I focus on the sound of her breathing to remind myself she’s alive and here—safe is another question entirely. It doesn’t matter what I say or how many times I say it, she doesn’t respond.
The only form of communication I’ve gotten from her is a scathing glare that could end a nuclear war when I slipped into the bathroom with her. But I barely noticed it. Or the wound on my arm that’s bleeding through the bandage. She can look at me however she wants because all I see is the patchwork of blue and red coloring her cheek. A chill strips another layer of warmth from me every time I see it.
I’m not letting her out of my sight for a second. From this day on, there will never be a moment where we aren’t breathing the same air. I’ll never make that type of fuck up again.
I’m tempted to step into the shower, carry Bella to the car and get as far away from Chicago as we can get. But first, we are in a silent agreement that she needs to wash that fucker’s scent off her.
Just thinking about that asshole’s face makes my blood boil.
Vargas.
I can’t believe I was so stupid. The warning signs were right there, and I ignored them. I can’t for the life of me think of excuses for why I did. I’ll never forgive myself because Bella has paid the price for it.
Vargas needs to be taken out, but I won’t do it at the expense of losing her.
The shower tap turns off, and the curtain opens, showing off her naked body, dripping in water and steam. She doesn’t acknowledge me when she steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body.
“Bella,” I say, standing from the seat.
She passes me without a second glance.
Fuck.
“Please, talk to me.”
She doesn’t, getting dressed in a new change of clothes as if she’s decided we’re leaving the city tonight.
I sigh at her back. “Damien will be here in ten minutes to drop off our IDs.”
Nothing. No response.
“Bella, I love you,” I whisper, reaching for her chin while holding a bag of ice. “Please, just look at me.”
Without turning, she elbows me in the jaw when I touch her. I let her hit me. I’d let her kick me and punch me all she likes. I deserve it for putting that bruise on her face. I don’t let her move far away from me. After several careful maneuvers on my part, and several hits on hers, I manage to get her on my lap until her wiggling stops.
She winces every time the bag of ice moves on her face, and I feel every flinch like her pain is my own. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her—making everything I’ve ever done wrong up to her.
My heart sinks below the earth when her stare grows blank, as if she found a spot within her consciousness to disappear into where I can’t follow her. I hold her tighter, both wanting her grounded back with me and wanting her safe, wherever her head is at.
I kiss her forehead and inhale her scent, rocking us slowly, which does nothing to make her relax. We stay like that until a knock on the door has Bella leaping to her feet and scurrying behind me. The guilt that hits me hurts like a motherfucking bitch.
A knock made her jump out of her skin. A single knock.
“It’s just Damien,” I assure Bella.
Her gaze bounces to mine, giving me a single, tense nod. I open the door and Damien holds out a brown paper package.
“It’s all there.” He nods behind me. “How is she?”
What the fuck do I say to that? It’s none of your business? She’d be alright if you actually watched her? She was scared of your knock because of how badly I fucked up?
“Fine,” I settle on.
“The rest of your cut is in there.”
We both stand in silence, then I ask, “Vargas?”
“I’ll deal with it,” he answers simply.
“How?”
He crosses his arms. “Word is they hijacked Alvarez’s shipment last week. Boss is waiting for proof before taking Vargas out.”
I raise a brow. They’ve been around, what? Three years, and they’re already going to be wiped off the map? What kind of idiot thinks he can steal from a cartel triple its size? Bella shouldn’t have been dragged into any of this shit.
“There’s a kid,” I start. “His name’s Jeremy. Lived with Bella.” I don’t need to explain any more than that. Even though it’s a closed adoption, Damien would be able to dig up information.
He nods. “He’s under our protection.” Damien gives me one last look. “Keep her safe,” he says before disappearing down the street.
I look inside the bag he handed me, ignoring the sour taste in my mouth. This is blood money. I’ve never had an issue with it before, but that was when the only blood on it was mine or another person willingly signing up for it. This has Bella’s blood on it now, too.
If we didn’t need the money and Bella didn’t go through hell just to get here, I would get rid of the cash without a second thought.
But this is us now, on the run from everyone and everything. As long as I have Bella, I don’t care where we go or what we do. She may not feel the same about that right now, but she will. She doesn’t have a choice.
When I’m back in the room, she goes back to doing everything possible to avoid looking at me. I want her to let all her frustrations and anger out on me. I want her to cry, scream, or sob—anything other than this grating silence.
Maybe we just need a change of scenery. Maybe getting some sleep and food will get her to actually look at me.
We pile everything and ourselves into the car without a word, and then get the fuck out of Chicago.
What a load of shit.
Maybe some sleep and some food will fix it? That’s the biggest bullshit I’ve ever told myself.
Bella has had plenty of sleep; I heard her little snores while her back was to me in the car. At this rate, I will know the back of her head better than I know my own hand.
I dragged her to the grocery store—yes, dragged. As I said, I’m not letting her out of my sight, which, in hindsight, was a terrible idea. She’s still all bruised up and didn’t wear any makeup to cover it, so the sight of me forcing her somewhere would be enough for someone to call the police.
I got her all her favorite snacks and takeout food—I even got her a teddy bear hugging a pillow that says, I love you.
Bella happily took what I had to offer her, then shoved it in my face. She accepted the teddy bear, but not without mutilating it first. She literally ripped out the cotton from inside with her bare hands and threw it in the back seat, then turned onto her side so her back was to me. Again.
And people call me a psychopath.
If I weren’t driving and we weren’t trying to get the hell out of dodge, I would’ve pulled off the road and put her over my knee for being such a little brat.
Yes, she’s traumatized over what happened, but keeping it bottled up won’t help any of us.
It’s been twenty-four hours, and she hasn’t said anything other than, “I need to go to the bathroom.” I saw it as an opportunity to blackmail her into speaking to me; talk, and I’ll pull over in exchange.
Did it work?
No. The stubborn princess held it in for almost a goddamn hour before I was the one who relented.
This girl really does have me by the balls.
I even tried saying things I knew would piss her off. Did she take the bait? Absolutely fucking not. Talk about giving a guy the cold shoulder.
Now we’re here, in a shitty motel. She’s still giving me her back—which is fine, because she’s trapped in my arms, and her hips are pressed against mine like the perfect little spoon. She still hasn’t said another word—not even when I stepped into the shower with her—but I’ve decided that she has another twelve hours before I go down the extreme route.
“Bella,” I say into her hair.
Silence.
Fucking hell.
“You better start talking real soon, or else you might regret it.”
Nothing.
“This is me giving you space. If you think I can’t get any worse, you have a whole other thing coming for you, baby girl.”
Zip.
Nada.
I sigh and pull her tighter to my chest. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Isabella.”
Soft light filters through the curtains, illuminating dust motes specked through the air. The stale air is aggravating my nostrils, but the faintest scent of something sweet is settling my nerves.
Jesus Christ, what time is it? I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. Based on how bright it is, it’s too early for me to be a functioning human. So, like, eight or nine o’clock in the morning, maybe.
I groan as I stretch my arms, reaching behind me to pull Bella into my chest. Instead of warm skin, my hands touch the flat cotton surface of the very empty bed.
My heart lodges into my throat as I snap upright. “Bella?”
I don’t wait for a response before throwing open the bathroom door.
Empty.
“Bella!” I yell, running to the front door and onto the walkway of the motel. The parking lot is empty; besides an old man, I can’t see anyone else.
Rushing back inside, I finally notice her shoes and coat are missing. So is Mr. Mouse. She’s on the run—she ran from me, just like I was scared of.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I spot her phone on the bedside table and our IDs exactly where I left them last night. My wallet is open on top of my jacket, but it’s still brimming with cash like she opened it and changed her mind, or only took a few bucks so I wouldn’t notice.
Throwing on a random pair of pants and shoes, I shove all our shit into the car and fire up the engine. I barely look back as I reverse out of the park and head onto the main street. The frost covering the windows slowly melts away from the blaring heaters.
My heart hammers erratically against my ribs as I speed down different roads. It’s a small rural town with two motels and a single grocery store. I park and check each and every building she might be in; she couldn’t have gotten far.
Unless she left earlier this morning and caught a bus.
I press my foot on the gas and fiddle with my phone to locate the station—any fucking station, bus, train, radio—I don’t care, as long as I find her.
I barely pay attention to the actual road, speeding along and heading to where my phone tells me to go. The tires screech to a stop in front of a brownstone building with only two bus stops in front of it. Bella isn’t in front of either one of them.
Running inside, I stop in front of a graying lady who looks like she’s never stepped out of the building in her life. She peers up over her glasses at me as I approach the counter.
“Tell me what buses left this morning.”
She scowls and opens her mouth like she’s about to protest.
“Tell me!” I roar.
She jolts in her chair, but raises her chin. “Manners.”
My lips peel back in a snarl. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
The old woman looks at me defiantly in an almost grand-motherly way. “Boys who don’t mind their manners don’t get what they want.”
“Fucking tell me!” I snarl, slamming my hand on the counter.
She blinks at me, bored and waiting.
For fuck’s sake.
“Tell me what buses left this morning,” I grit out. “Please.”
She scoffs. Without another word, she drops a pamphlet onto the counter and returns to reading her book. I snatch it up, running my finger and eyes over the information, matching times and dates with the route.
Only two buses have left this morning; one is heading to Chicago, and the other directly to Denver.
“A girl, pigtails, yay high. Which bus did she take?” I leave no room for negotiations with my question.
The lady stares at me for a moment. Just as I’m about to bark at her, she raises her hand to silence me. “Who’s she to you?”
I narrow my eyes. “Everything.” What is this girls stick together bullshit?
Sighing, she shakes her head. “She could only afford to go to Cheyenne.”
Where the fuck is Cheyenne?
I grunt and run back to my car, hearing the lady mutter, “No wonder she left you.”
Punching the place into my phone, I refer back to the pamphlet. Doing the math, I figure she’s got at least twenty-five minutes on me. Jesus fuck.
I can barely breathe as I speed onto the highway surrounded by nothing but greenery, a cold sweat covering my skin. Irritated and desperate, I tap my fingers on the wheel, trying to contain my scattered breaths and rapid pulse.
The silence in the car makes the voices louder, question upon question piling on top of each other. What if she catches another bus before I get there? What if Vargas somehow knows where she’s headed? What if she never went on the bus and hid in the city? What if that lady lied and Bella is on a bus to Chicago?
God, Bella, Bella, Bella. Please.
I can’t lose her. I can’t live without her. Fuck, what if I can’t find her once I’m there? I’ll spend the rest of my life looking for her if I don’t get to her in time. There’s no version that ends without Bella by my side.
I’m going at least ten miles over the speed limit. I’m not sure; I’m not paying attention to it, focusing on the arrival time dropping on my phone and the traffic. The minutes seem to drag on like hours, the drive going by in a blur. By the time I reach the exit for Cheyenne, I think I’m going to have a heart attack with how tight my body is.
I’m not sure how I make it in front of the Cheyenne station, but I do, parking illegally on the side of the road as I run inside. I don’t feel the chilly air on my bare arms or the drizzle slowly soaking my t-shirt. Bella would have arrived five to ten minutes ago, and who knows where she might have disappeared to in that time.
The sound of my thundering footsteps echoes through the station, but I can’t spot her anywhere. She isn’t lined up for another ticket or waiting for another bus.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I run back outside, searching left and right for even a glimpse of her. She couldn’t afford to go farther than Cheyenne. Did she even take enough money for a motel? Food? Fucking hell. I throw the car door open and slip inside, starting the truck without buckling my seatbelt. I’m on the road again, driving up and down street after street as the piercing pain in my chest amplifies to the point that I can barely breathe.
Twenty minutes later, pigtails catch the corner of my eye. I pull into one of the quieter streets and park in front of a driveway. A lump builds in my throat as I run in the direction I saw it as the rain falls harder, turning the air frigid.
Then I see her. Bella.
My Bella.
Walking along the street, staring straight at the ground, not noticing the boutiques and offices she passes. She looks so sad. Broken. I caused it.
I narrow the distance, pulling her into my arms and beneath the awning of a cafe, nuzzling my head against hers to inhale her scent. At once, all the voices quieten. I found her. She yelps and tries to fight me, but I ignore all of it because I can breathe again. My heart no longer feels like it will be ripped out of my chest.
“Fuck, I thought I lost you.” I wrap my arms around her tighter, ignoring the people running past who are trying to get out of the rain. “Don’t you ever do that again.” I’m meant to sound stern, maybe scold her a bit. But all I sound is desperate.
She can’t leave me.
She’s never allowed to run away from me.
“Get off of me!” the princess hisses, pushing against my chest.
I don’t listen, squeezing her against me. “I was so worried.” I should be angry at her for sneaking out when I was asleep, but I can’t bring myself to care beyond the fact that I have her back. “I almost lost you twice this week. I won’t let there be a third time.”
She shakes her head against my chest. “Let go of me, Roman!”
Bile lurches in my stomach from the sight of her red-rimmed eyes and the fading bruises when I let her pull away.
“I’m not going back with you,” she says, choking back a sob as a tear falls down her cheek.
“Either I follow you, or you follow me. There’s no version of this where we go our separate ways.”
Bella tries to squirm out of my hold, while also gripping onto my shirt like it might kill her if she lets go.
“Miss, are you alright?” We both snap our attention to the cop standing a couple of feet away, who has his hand conveniently close to the weapons at his hips.
It kills me to step away from her, but I do it, keeping one hand on the small of her back. I’m not going back to jail, but I can’t tell him that she’s fine when she very clearly looks like she’s not fine. In fact, my ruined knuckles probably make it look like I’m the one who caused her bruises.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to step away from her,” the cop says slowly, wrapping his fingers around the taser.
I grit my teeth, but do as I’m told, staring at Bella, pleading with her not to send me away like this when we haven’t talked about what happened. The only thing I can imagine that’s worse than being put in a box, is if Bella is the one who sends me there.
“Miss, I ask again, are you okay?” The cop slowly inches forward, muscles tense like he’s gearing up for a fight.
“I…” A shiver rips through her and she hugs herself tighter, glancing from me to the police officer as her bottom lip trembles.
Please don’t do this, I think, even though she can’t hear me.
The silence stretches for a long moment. She can tell them that I kidnapped her and held her against her will, that she had nothing to do with any of the murders. They’ll send me away for a long time, but I’ll still do everything in my power to make sure nothing bad happens to her. Then once I’m out, I’ll come crawling back to her, because since the day I met her, the only thing I’ve known for certain is that I’d die for her.
Her throat bobs with her swallow. “It’s fine,” she breathes out, staring straight at me. My shoulders sag in relief. “He’s… a friend.”
I curl my fingers into fists, but keep my mouth shut.
“Are you sure?” the cops asks.
She nods and gives him a forced, reassuring smile.
“Okay.” He narrows his eyes at me and gives Bella a comforting smile that she doesn’t need as he backs away to the other side of the street, out of earshot, but perfectly in his line of sight.
“I won’t come with you,” Bella whispers.
“Princess—”
“I was so scared, Roman,” she cries. “I was scared all my life, and you were there to protect me, but what if you’re the one I’m scared of?”
I reach for her, and she steps away. “I would rather kill myself than intentionally hurt you.”
“You got me out of the life I know, and however shit it was, I still had Jeremy. Now? What do I have? A life where I’m constantly at risk of getting killed? Where I don’t have Jeremy? All I have is the unknown, and you don’t know what we’re doing. Hell, you don’t even know what you’re doing.”
I shake my head. “Neither of us has known what we are doing ever since we were kids. When have we ever had a solid plan on anything? Everything we did was spontaneous, but we didn’t give a shit because we had each other.”
Tears fall down her face and I want so badly to hold her again. “I don’t want to go back to hiding and being scared. What if something happens to you while you’re fighting or going around killing people? What if you’re dead? What am I going to do then?”
“What you’ve always done, Princess. Survive. And I told you, there’s going to be no more fighting, no more gangs, no more killing—unless absolutely necessary.”
Bella hugs herself tighter. “I’m not safe with you.”
She’s right, but she’s also never been more wrong.
I reach for her again, and this time, she doesn’t fight me when I pull her into my arms. “You’re safer with me than without me.” Her chin trembles, wiping her tears away with her shoulder.
“That’s clearly not true. Should I list all the times I’ve ended up hurt with you around?” She looks at me with a mixture of sadness and fury, like she wants to curse my name and then kiss me after.
“I have a better idea; how about you list all the times you were hurt when I wasn’t around.” She shakes her head. “That wasn’t a suggestion, Isabella. Look at me and tell me every single time you were hurt because I wasn’t there, and the people who will never hurt you again because I stepped in.” I cock my head at her silence. “No? Alright, how about I start with the ones I know about—because I know you like to keep quiet about what happens.”
“Roman, don’t—”
“Greg. Marcus. His friends.”
“Roman.”
“Maxim and Mikhail. Mitchell.”
“I get it.”
“Skinny and Ugly. Those fucking customers at your work. The fucker that followed you from work the night you found me,” I list.
Her eyes widen. “That wasn’t you?”
“I stopped him before he could. Should I keep going?”
She shakes her head, and I watch the heavy rise and fall of her chest.
I continue anyway. “Troy from biology, who kept putting dead animals in your bag. Maddy from Phys-Ed, who would cut your bra straps. The postman who kept pressuring you for your number…” I tilt my head to the side. “How weird that he suddenly wasn’t interested anymore? Last I heard, he’s now mute.” Her eyes widen. “Aaron, who slapped your ass whenever he did his weekly trips to the store—you hadn’t seen him around lately, had you? Pity what happened to his house.” I continue, my gaze locked on hers. “What about that guy who works at the grocery store who likes to corner you? I wonder how he broke both his hands.”
She’s completely frozen, teeth chattering and staring at me with her mouth ajar.
I lean forward until our foreheads are a hair away from touching. “Now riddle me this, Bella; why did all those people stop hurting you?”
She sucks in a sharp breath as her lips quiver and drops her gaze to my feet. “I hate you.” She sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
“That’s fine, Princess. You can spend your life searching for a reason to hate me, but the truth is, you hate that you can’t live without me. And you know what? I would rather die knowing you wish I were dead than for you to feel nothing toward me at all.” I tip her chin to get her to look up at me. “Maybe I haven’t made this clear: You have never been just a phase to me; you’ve always been the whole picture. Without you, I am incomplete.”
“But your heart is already full,” she whispers, searching my eyes for something I can’t see. “My leaving won’t change that.”
Wiping away her tears, I kiss her cheek. “My heart has only ever belonged to you, little Bella. You. Are. It.”
“What if…” She wets her lips. “What if something happens to me again? We’ll be spending the rest of our lives running from them.”
“It won’t,” I promise. “I’m going straight.”
“But… you want to get back at Vargas?” Her voice breaks as she talks.
“What happened once Damien dropped off the envelope?”
Bella chews the inside of her cheek. “We left.”
“That’s right. You and me, we drove off and got far away from Chicago. Far away from Vargas and Damien.” I cup her cheek. “Do you see what I’m trying to tell you?”
More tears spill from her beautiful brown eyes. The cop behind her shifts, crossing his arms as he watches us. If he tries to ruin this moment, I’m going to lose my shit.
I answer for her. “Ask me to give up anything, and I’ll do it for you, Isabella. As long as I have you, I don’t give a shit about the rest.”
Her eyelids fall close as another shiver racks through her tiny body. “Then prove it,” she says as she opens her eyes.
My lips tip up at the corner. “Always. For the rest of my life.”
“What about Jeremy?”
“Damien will keep an eye out. And once things settle in a couple more weeks, we can go see him.”
Taking a deep breath, she nods and doesn’t run when I drop my hold to her elbows. “Where’d you park?”
Bella’s coming with me willingly.
Bella trusts me to keep her safe.
Bella wants to be with me.
“On the road.”
She sniffles, wipes away her tears, and starts moving in the direction that I came.
“Hey, no, get your ass back here.”
“What?” she frowns, looking back at me.
“I’m mad at you, too.”
Her eyebrows hike up her forehead. “Excuse me?”
“It’s cold.” I pull her hood over her head, button up her jacket, and wrap her scarf around her properly, all while she gawks at me. “And for God’s sake, Bella, if you’re going to run, at least take some money and the IDs with you. This isn’t amateur hour.”
