“No.”
“I need you to know that I will always protect you,” he says, his words reminiscent of my father’s when I was younger, and when I pull away to look in Declan’s eyes, I can see the truth behind them.
“I know,” I tell him. “Trust comes hard for me, but I’m trying.”
“Love that.”
I smile at my manipulations as they come so easily with him. It’s like I don’t even have to think or try; I just speak and he’s putty in my hands. Eventually we fall asleep before waking a couple hours later. Declan orders up some food, and I lie, telling him that I need to be home because Bennett wanted to video chat later and he would know if I wasn’t at our place. Declan is frustrated but we agree that we will get together tomorrow and spend these next two weeks together as much as possible. Truth is, I have to go to Pike tonight.
Before I leave, Declan installs an app on my cell phone that will allow us to text without anything being tracked by phone records. His possessive ways make me laugh, but I’m curious to know why he is the way that he is.
IT’S NEARING MIDNIGHT and my stomach is in knots when I pull up to Pike’s trailer. I turn the car off and sit for a moment; the sounds of the sharp wind blowing over the snow-covered ground fill the silence. My nerves keep multiplying the longer I sit here. I’ve known that this day would eventually come, but the realness that it’s finally here pangs in my gut.
When I get out of the car and walk inside the trailer, Pike doesn’t say a word when he comes over to me. My face is stone as I stand there.
“Hey,” he says in a gentle voice.
“Hey.”
“So . . .?”
“So . . .” I begin and then tell him with a nod, “This is it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Pike places his hands hesitantly along my jaw, asking, “So we’re doing this?”
“Yes.” My voice trembles, but I muster up my strength, resisting all the emotions I feel swarming around the two of us.
“Are you scared?”
I nod my head, giving him my honest answer through my hardened fa?ade, and he nods along with me, letting me know I’m not alone, but we both know it’s up to me to pull this off.
“Don’t be scared. Remember what we’re doing this for,” he tells me, his eyes burning with intensity. “This is for your father. This is for you and everything you were stripped of. You wanted a new life; we’re almost there, Elizabeth. Can you taste it? The fairytale?”
“Yeah,” I breathe.
“So we fight the monsters first,” he says and then softly presses his lips to mine, and when he pulls away, I slip off my coat and toss it aside before looking up at Pike, swallowing hard, telling him, “I’m ready.”
“Say it again.”
“I’m ready.”
“Close your eyes,” he instructs, and I do.
I stand here and feel the warmth of Pike’s hand brush down the side of my cheek as he whispers to me, “This is for you,” before taking his comforting hand away.
My heart crashes inside my chest as I wait, and then it comes, Pike’s hard fist barreling into the side of my face and over my eye. A blast of pain singeing across my cheek and down my nose as my body collapses to the floor. Pike then grabs ahold of my wrist, moving my hand that’s covering my eye away from my face and hammers down another powerful fist across my cheek. My screams are strained as I cry them out, and Pike instantly covers my body with his, holding me in his arms and cradling my head against his chest as I cry in agony. My face is hot, tingling as I feel the immediate swelling.
Pike continues to hold me, rocking me back and forth, reminding me over and over why we are doing this, but he doesn’t need to convince me; I know why I’m doing this. As my tears dry, the pounding of an oncoming headache dulls out the piercing throbs down my face.
I don’t even need to say anything when Pike picks me up off the floor and carries me to his bed.
“I’ll be right back,” he says and then walks out of the room, only to return a few moments later with a glass of water and two Tylenol. “Here. Take these.”
Swallowing the pills, I set the glass down and lay my head back on the pillows.
“How bad does it hurt?” Pike asks.
“I have a really bad headache.”
“Your eye?”
“It all hurts, but it’s okay. I don’t want you to feel bad or apologize,” I tell him as he lies down next to me. “How does it look?” I ask.
He reaches out to touch the tender skin, and I flinch back at the pain.
“Sorry,” he mutters. “It’s really swollen and pink right now. It’s starting to bruise. You’ll have a nasty black eye for sure by the time you wake up tomorrow.”