CHAPTER 7 - HOPELESS JUMP
602 Words
“I’d rather have a broken heart and a broken body than be married to a monster like you!” Rachel’s scream was a jagged shard of defiance that cut through the thunder.
She didn't look down at Fabio’s outstretched arms. She didn't look at the red dots of the snipers dancing on her skin.
With a final, agonizing surge of strength, she shoved off the wet stone, leaping blindly toward the darkness on the other side of the wall.
It was a hopeless jump. Her foot slipped on a patch of slick ivy at the last millisecond, stripping her of the momentum she needed to clear the jagged glass shards embedded at the top of the masonry.
A sharp, guttural cry escaped her as her shoulder clipped the top of the wall, sending her spiraling into the void beyond.
She hit the ground on the other side with a sickening thud. The world turned into a blur of mud, pain, and spinning shadows.
Breath escaped her in a sharp, ragged gasp. Her lungs seized, protesting as she clawed at the dirt, but her legs felt like leaden weights. As she collapsed, the oppressive darkness of the outer woods began to swallow her consciousness.
Above the ringing in her ears, the heavy iron gates of the estate swung open with violent, clattering speed.
“Dammit... Dammit!” she wheezed, the bitter taste of failure more suffocating than the shadows. A sickening, white-hot pain flared through her shoulder as she tried to shift. A broken cry tore from her throat, lost to the night.
Fast, heavy, and purposeful footsteps crunched through the undergrowth. She tried to drag herself an inch further, her fingers digging into the dirt, until a pair of hand-made Italian leather shoes appeared in her field of vision, now splattered with Chicago mud.
Fabio dropped to his knees beside her. He didn't grab her roughly. He slid one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, hoisting her up against his chest. He was radiating a terrifying heat against her shivering, soaked skin.
“You have a death wish,” he hissed into her ear, his voice thick with a dark, twisted kind of wonder.
“But you’re forgetting something, Rachel. I’m the King of this city. Even the Reaper has to check with me before he takes what’s mine.”
He swept her into his arms, the heavy iron gates of the estate groaning shut behind them like the jaws of a trap. As he carried her toward the mansion, he looked down at her pale, battered face.
The moonlight caught the crimson smear on her shoulder and the grime staining her cheek. For the first time, the "Punisher" felt a sharp, unfamiliar pang in his chest—a jagged twist of emotion that had absolutely nothing to do with business or blood.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against her cold, trembling ear. The scent of pine and rain clung to her skin.
“Fight me all you want,” he whispered, his grip tightening until it was a bruise-deep promise. “It only makes me want to keep you more. Every struggle just proves you’re alive.”
“Let me go! Put me down, you devil!” she hissed, her voice cracking as she thrashed against his chest. Her small fists weaky struck his shoulders, but he didn't even flinch.
He only tightened his hold, a dark, possessive smirk tugging at his mouth. “Go on screaming, mia cara. Let the whole valley hear you. It won't change a thing. You are mine.”
- Writer
