Unmistakable (27 page)

Luke did write me a song. He just never meant for me to hear it.

I
have endless options, but it comes down to two—stay or leave. Face the fear or run away from it.

Never has the enormity of choice seemed so impossible.

If I’m strong enough, I can find Luke somewhere in the crowd and I can force him to tell me the truth—about the song, and his lies, and that night. I can ask him why ours can’t be a love story.

Something tells me that I won’t like his answer.

Or, I can cower in fear and leave here without confrontation. I can leave this all behind me and I can watch the years go by. Maybe the pain of loving him will lessen. Maybe I’ll find a way to forget.

When the music begins to thump again, a strangled cry escapes my throat. I don’t want to hear some stranger singing some silly song. All I want is to hear Luke’s rough, beautiful voice in all of its contradictions and indecisions.

Blindly, I move to the side of the building, hoping that the noise will be blunted by the wind. I lean against the brick wall and bury my head in my hands.

“Stella Granger.”

The sound of the voice is a knife to my gut. Instinctively, I reach for my stomach, and I feel the edges of the ridged scar under my fingertips.

I know that voice. I’ve heard it in nightmares and daymares, in crowded rooms and empty ones, but it’s never been as clear as this.

“Conniving, stupid little bitch.”

I search the parking lot frantically for the source of the voice, but all I see is shadows dancing across the wall. My feet move. This time, I’ll use that burst of speed. I start to fly back towards the club, back towards the door, back towards safety.

I’m too slow. Out of nowhere, his fingers catch a handful of hair, and his rough, thick hands wrench my head backwards.

I let out a single, solitary scream that pierces the air. It isn’t like before, I tell myself. Someone will find me. We aren’t alone.

The beat of the music thumps on, and I correct myself—Holden will come looking for me, but by then, it might be too late.

I throw my body against the man and jab his shin with a swift kick. I know he will retaliate and I prepare myself for the slicing pain when he snaps my arm or my neck, but nothing comes. I kick again, with more force this time.

I don’t know if it’s adrenaline or the fact that there’s only a fractional chance that I’ll make it out of this alive, but I’m not afraid of the repercussions. I want to hurt him.

“Keep kicking, baby. I like it when you do that.”

His words, and the glint of steel at my throat, silence the movements of my limbs. He spins me around, twisting the point of the knife against my skin as he shifts his body. I feel the tiny drop of wetness fall onto my jacket and try not to remember that he’s spilled far more of my blood.

Although the rest of his face is hidden beneath a mask, his familiar, glittering eyes are just as cold as I remember.

“I couldn’t believe my stroke of good fortune when I got the call. The princess finally left her castle and entered a grimy lair. That means I get the chance to finish what I started. Believe me, I’m going to enjoy it. This time, it’s not for the money. I can do every last little dirty thing that I want to do to you.”

The first shiver of fear runs up my spine.

He glides the knife up and down my jaw. “No more screaming, princess. Not until we get out of here. Then, you’ll scream.”

If nothing else, I’m not going to let that happen. I will not be afraid of him and I will not scream.

I see the rough outline of a large rock lying in the dirt below my feet, and as he starts to drag me away, I slide down against his body and yank the rough edges into my palm. I ignore the shock of pain when he snatches my head back up.

He’s momentarily distracted by something in the distance. I wrench one of my arms free, knowing that I can’t miss my chance. Not this time. I smash the rock into the side of his face, again and again, feeling a victorious tremor at each yelp of pain.

He loses his balance, and I hit him again, not caring that the rock is cutting into my skin, only knowing that I need to give myself enough time to run for help. I raise my weapon over and over, until he’s writhing on the ground, seemingly lost to the world.

With the dust and haze of revenge blurring my vision, I run for the entrance of the club, but before I can get there, a pair of powerful arms encircle my waist.

He’s caught me.

It’s the same as before.

I brace myself for the pain.

Instead, Luke stares down at me with a thunderous expression, at least until his frantic questions come in wild bursts and gasps.

“Is this blood? What happened? Are you hurt? Stella, talk to me.”

I raise desperate eyes to his. “It’s him. He came.”

Understanding dawns immediately, even though I can’t get any more words out. Of course Luke knows who “he” is.

His face flashes with menace when he sees the man, who’s still writhing on the ground. He shoves me to the side and bolts across the parking lot. I cry out to warn him about the knife, but he doesn’t hear, not in time.

The steel rises against Luke, cutting through his arm, but he bats it away with one swipe of his hand. He’s on top of my attacker in a second, straddling his chest and pounding his face into the dirt, his fists rising again and again until there’s nothing but a mass of tangled blood and skin on the ground beneath his feet.

“Stop,” I scream, running towards them. “Luke, stop. Stop it!”

He’s blind with anger. I stop screaming, because I know he won’t hear it, not when he’s like this. It’s more than that—I stop screaming, because there’s a part of me that wants Luke to smash the man’s skull into the ground. I want to see the life leave those glittering black eyes. He watched my brother die. An eye for an eye.

But I can’t let Luke carry that weight on his shoulders. I should run for help, I should call the police, but every instinct I have wants to save Luke from more pain, so I slide my hands over his taut muscles before he can lower another blow.

His enraged face begs me to leave it alone, to let him finish, but I can’t do that.

“Please, Luke,” I beg.

His eyes shimmer and he lets out a defeated grunt, picking me up from the ground and cradling me into his arms.

“I wanted to kill him. I might have.”

His face has been drained of all of its color, and I know that he’s afraid, although I don’t know the source of his fear. I look down. The man, the source of all of my demons, is motionless. For a second, I think he’s dead. I hope he’s dead.

I have to force myself to focus, and when I do, I see his chest rise and fall with sure signs of life. The same life he took from my brother.

“He’s not dead. Just unconscious,” I whisper.

Undisguised relief fills Luke’s face, but I can’t feel that. Not yet. I extract myself from his arms and bend down.

“Take off the mask, asshole. Let me see your face.”

He’s far beyond the realm of being able to hear, so I rip the fabric from his head.

All of the terror I’ve felt, every nightmare, is due to this monster.

Even though his face is coated in a layer of blood, I can make out his features. A mouth. Skin. Ears. Eyelashes. Like an ordinary person’s.

I feel no guilt, no anger, no pain. He doesn’t deserve my feeling. He deserves nothing.

Just like that, it’s over. I don’t have to be afraid of the dark. Or the light.

I turn to Luke, who watches my every movement with the kind of fear that I thought was mine alone. “It’s over,” I whisper into his chest. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

He clenches his eyes shut and his arms tremble around me.

“Oh, Stella. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

He’s slipping away, but I don’t have an answer to his question, so all I can do is hold on and pray that he won’t leave me again. He tilts my chin and catches me in his unshielded gaze. I’m so lost that I almost miss his whispered words.

“I’m afraid of you.”

I want to wipe away his fear, to laugh it off and smother him with my reassurances and my love, but I know what those words would cost both of us. Instead, I brush my fingers over the scratch on his cheek and hold his face in my hands.

“Try not to be. Please, Luke. Just try not to be.”

I want to say it: “
I won’t hurt you.”

But I don’t. I don’t make promises that I can’t keep. I love him, and I am not always kind to those I love. I will hurt him, even if I try not to, even if the last thing I want to do is to cause him more pain.

His smile is shaky. “I don’t know...” His words get lost in the wind.

“Stella! Stella!”

Luke steps back abruptly at the sound of my name, and at the sight of Holden rushing towards us. He pulls up short, a guilty expression on his face.

“I heard shouting, and I thought maybe you needed some help,” he says, breathing heavily.

“We need to call the police.” Luke slides his hand into mine, a possessive gesture that doesn’t escape me. I nestle my fingers into his palm, hoping to reassure him, but his eyes are intently focused on Holden.

Holden looks confused until he sees the trickle of blood on my neck and the gashes covering Luke’s arms and face. “Jesus Christ. What happened?”

Luke doesn’t answer, so I struggle for the words. “I was attacked. I think someone in the club might have known the man...the man who killed my brother. He knew I was here. When I came out for air, he was waiting for me. He said that...he said that he wanted to finish what he started.”

“Oh, Stella.” Holden hunches over, looking like he’s going to be sick.

“I’m fine. Luke showed up in time...” I sneak another look at his face, hoping that he’ll take the blame. The credit.

“You were doing just fine without me,” Luke says, quietly.

I shake off his words. “We need to call the police. He’s unconscious now, but I don’t know how long that’s going to last.”

Eric, who arrives just in time to hear the end of the story, crosses over to the limp figure and stands over him. “Holden, you make the call. Take care of the girl. This fucker isn’t going anywhere.”

“Stella, come inside. You can get cleaned up, and...”

“No.” The startling clarity of my voice shocks all of us. Especially me. “I need to watch them take him away.”

Luke shakes his head furiously. “Holden’s right.”

I refuse to allow them to stop me. It’s too important. “No. Not until it’s really over.”

They exchange a long look, and as Holden and Eric take over, Luke and I move towards a tiny patch of grass at the edge of the parking lot.

When we reach the soft grass, I lean against his broad chest, and while I would be perfectly content to remain in his arms forever, there are things that need to be said.

“Luke, I...”

He stares straight ahead, his profile more hawk-like than ever against the cool night sky. “Not now, Stella. We can talk later.” He silences my protests by sliding one of his battered hands into mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I’m not sure that I believe him. In my head, there’s a quick skirmish between hope and fear.

There’s a strong chance that I’ll come to regret it, but I let hope win.

H
olden transforms into a drill sergeant, barking orders and keeping the crowd at bay while chaos reigns all around us. I wait for Luke to join him, since it’s not in his nature to stand by and watch the action unfold, but he remains resolutely at my side.

“It’s okay,” I say quietly. “You should probably go help Holden. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Be quiet, Stella.”

When I see the grim determination in his face, I squeeze his hand. He winces, in obvious pain, but his grip only tightens against my fingers. He draws my body close to his, and I take shelter there and let the world slip away. I am safe. It is over. The glittering black eyes will no longer haunt my dreams.

I’m not entirely confident in that, but I try my best to believe it.

When the sirens begin to blare louder, I brace myself for the loss of breath. I wait to drown. I wait to recover.

I anticipate the inevitable. Five seconds.

Nothing comes. When neon lights invade my vision and drown out the chatter of the crowd, I breathe in and out. Even as the paramedics attach the man to a stretcher and the police secure him with handcuffs, I don’t let the waves of panic consume me.

With Luke’s hand in mine, safety no longer feels like an illusion. I don’t fool myself into thinking that I won’t have to think about the attack’s aftermath. The police will descend soon, with their sympathies and their never-ending questions and their friends who just happen to work for the local paper. But my chest no longer feels like it could cave in. It’s enough.

Holden is trying at best to keep the vultures at bay, but I know that he can’t hold out forever. As he talks to one of the officers, his voice rises in anger, and his protests trickle over the hushed voices in the gathering crowd.

“I can provide an accurate first-hand account. There’s no need to exacerbate the situation by dragging both of them through an inquisition. Give them some time to put together their thoughts. Maybe they can come down to the station tomorrow to make a report.”

The officer throws his hands up in exasperation. “She’s the victim.”

Holden’s eyes meet mine across the parking lot, and he shoots me a quick, apologetic glance. I can’t hear his next words, but I see the outline of his words. “Do you know who she is? Stella Granger.”

The officer’s voice is incredulous. “Granger? That Granger? The little girl?”

Luke takes my hand more tightly into his grasp. “It’s going to be okay, Stella bella. It’s over.”

“I don’t want to go with them.” I feel a little stupid, begging Luke for help, since I know there’s not a damn thing he can do about it, but I say it anyway. “I don’t want to answer their questions. I don’t want to go to the station. Please.”

“Then you won’t have to.”

Foolishly or not, I believe him.

The officer with Holden shoots me a dubious glance, and his expression only changes when an older man, wearing a suit instead of a uniform, approaches him and whispers something in his ear.