It takes mere seconds until my head is flung backwards. A clump of my hair tugged hard. My body follows. He drags me down. I try to twist away. He readjusts his grip and pulls my splayed and aching body along the ground. A huffed sound expels from my lips. I lie there, gasping, when he again straddles my waist.
“No. Fuck you, Morgan.” He smiles, with his hands grasping either side of my lengthened neck, before he applies pressure to my throat. “You will die like Falcon. He hung himself, you bitch, and you’ll face the same strangling death.”
His hands tighten, choking me. I can feel the blood pooling in my face as I desperately scratch at his arms. Colours dance in front of my eyes as my vision is obscured, all bar his eyes. I can’t breathe. I’m dying.
“Morgan. Nooooooo!” The roar of my name pounds in my head before the crazed eyes that bore down at me disappear. Strong hands remain firm, pressing harder into my neck. My head spins, then fogs. Black. Everything turns black.
I gasp frantically. I scratch at my neck. My mouth is wide. Get off me. Get off me.
“Run, Morgan. Run.” Pure urgency comes with these words.
I can’t run. I’m trying to get Logan off me, but soon I realise he’s no longer on me at all. I roll onto my side until I flip onto my stomach. My cheek digs into the ground. I draw one loud, gurgling breath before darkness swallows me.
I hear scuffling, but I can’t open my eyes.
“You need to run, Morgan. Get Morgan. Get Morgan.” Reid.
Thump!
I flick my eyelids open. Two blurred objects roll in my direction.
“Move, Morgan! Go!” More words are yelled at me. “Get Morgan. Get her out of here.”
I cry hearing the voice of my husband yelling.
“Reid.” I make no sound.
Relief washes over me before it’s replaced with a gut-wrenching panic. Is my husband now in the hands of the wolf?
Reid
“Cruise, get Morgan out of here.” I’m desperate as I’m pulled under the shirtless man who I saw strangling my wife.
“I can’t leave you,” Cruise yells.
Fuck!
Blue eyes, light blond stubble, and hair—it’s Greg, the reporter who came into our home and conducted an interview about the disappearance of Morgan.
“You fucking prick.” I swing my fist only to wince from the pain shooting up my side.
He spits in my face before he jerks away from me. I jump to my feet, clutching again at my side, just in time to see his fist connect with Cruise’s jaw.
“I’m going to kill you.” I throw myself at Greg who towers over Cruise with his chest puffed out. My head turns as wide as the arm swinging towards it, but I manage to duck quickly as I suck air in through my teeth.
Bang! Bang!
Two loud gunshots fill the air. I still.
So does he.
“Get on the ground and put your motherfucking hands behind your back.” Cruise’s tone is not laced with fear. Instead, it’s full of control and confidence.
I look in his direction, briefly, just long enough to see the rifle he has pointed into the sky. “Do it now.”
Where did he get a rifle from?
Sirens sound, and as they do, white flashes of anger make me growl like a tiger about to devour his prey. I whip my head and watch as Greg lowers himself until he’s perched on his knees.
“Holy shit, Reid, you’re bleeding. You’re bleeding.”
“Get Morgan out of here. Leave this to me,” I yell.
“No. Brother, you’re bleeding from your stomach.”
I turn my eyes downwards. There’s a slash in my T-shirt. Blood covers the material surrounding it. I look to the ground. There’s a knife with blood staining its blade. The fucker cut me.
“We walk out of here together.” Cruise is stoic in the way he says this.
I take two steps towards Greg, whose eyes connect with mine. I grind my teeth as I swing my leg backwards and then kick it straight into his jaw. He falls onto his back from the force. I pant as another rip-roaring pain splits my side. “He leaves in a body bag.”
“No,” Cruise barks. “I have a gun to protect us, and the cops are coming.”
I hover over Greg. Blood drips from his lip. He launches himself upright, so I drop onto my knees until my weight presses against his chest, knowing full well Cruise won’t shoot me. I mimic the position I found this pig in when I came racing towards him and he was on top of my wife.
I shift my eyes to Morgan who lies on her stomach, with one side of her bloated, bloodied face dug into the earth. Her eyes are sealed shut. Her hair is matted and singed. She’s not moving, or speaking, or reacting. A tear rolls from the corner of my eye and skirts my cheek.
This bastard is leaving here in a body bag.
Greg swings his fist, but I pull my head back in time. Without thought I wrap my fingers around either side of his thick neck.
“Reid. Let him go. Get off him.”
I can hear Cruise’s panic. However, I feel none. I’m completely void of thought or sensation.
A blast of gunfire sounds. I don’t even jolt.
With all my might, I drive my weight against Greg’s airway. His eyes bulge from the immediate pressure. His face quickly fills with blood and becomes the shade of a ripened cherry. I glare at him through animalistic eyes. I want his last breath. I want him to pay for what he’s done.
“Reid. Get off him.” This time it’s not my brother who demands this of me, it’s Constable Max Maloney.
I don’t search for him. I don’t shift my position either. Instead, I keep my eyes glued to the man who has tortured and maimed my wife. Morgan’s beaten and bruised, lying lifeless on the ground not far from me, and the sight of her has me picturing a woman I met laid out on a table inside the Rockhampton morgue. This man is a murderer. A torturer. A villain. He’s worthless and shouldn’t get the privilege of life. I must take his life to save others. To get justice.
“Get on the ground, Reid, and place your hands behind your head. Do it now.” Maloney’s wasting his breath. I’m not leaving here alive, not if Greg does.
“RK-147, we need all units. All units.” Dusty. I recognise his voice immediately. “We’ve found Morgan Banks. We need all units.”
An anger I’ve never known swirls in the pit of my stomach, forcing itself into my heart before exploding through my lips in a tortured sound.
He gargles. He’s trying to pry my fingers from his throat, but I keep forcing my weight down until I no longer feel Greg’s chest rising beneath my legs.
“Cruise, drop the rifle. Reid, get off him, and get on the ground or I’ll shoot,” Max shouts.
Another gargling sound exits Greg’s throat, and then his body falls limp beneath me.
Pride warms my skin, and as I slowly release my grip, I breathe. It strikes me like a harsh spark of electricity that I can’t remember taking a single breath while I strangled the devil now lying motionless.
“Reid. Get on the ground and put your hands behind your head.” Maloney is shouting so loudly it beats across my brow.
I hear his instruction and lift my body until I reposition myself, kneeling on the ground beside Greg. He doesn’t move. His chest doesn’t rise.
I killed him. He’s dead. And I feel calm.
I place one hand, two hands to the back of my head, linking my fingers, and I breathe like a weight I’ve been carrying for days, one too heavy to carry in the first place, has been lifted from my shoulders.
“What have you done?” The worry in Max’s tone doesn’t extinguish the pride that fills my core. An eye for an eye. He had to pay. I made him pay. I’ve no guilt, no remorse burdening me. I’m free.
Heavy footsteps approach from behind. I don’t look in that direction. Instead, I shift my eyes to my wife lying unmoving on the ground. I defended my family and got revenge for Morgan, and for the woman who laid in that morgue, unrecognisable. I’m not a sinner. I’m a saviour. I did the right thing.
A weak cough has my eyes widening.
“Morgan, open your eyes.” Cruise kneels down behind her. He gently brushes her cheek with the back of his hand.
She coughs again.
My heart sprints. My head whirls. Morgan’s alive.
“She’s breathing.” Cruise isn’t facing me when he says this. He’s looking past me. Why isn’t he looking at me?
My heart launches into the back of my throat. My body trembles. Tears flood my face. “Morgan.”