“With you not having a father around… I always thought you’d be against being a dad yourself.”

I watched his face carefully. I didn’t want to upset him. The topic of his father was never something he enjoyed touching on.

“Having a deadbeat father abandon mom and me before I was even born has been more than enough incentive for me to be the best dad ever when the time comes along, Sara,” he explained with a soft, reassuring smile.

I nodded. “I’m glad.”

“The same goes for you, though. You had the crappiest childhood with the most piece of shit father I’ve ever seen and a mother who cared about her alcohol more than her own daughter. You sure that isn’t going to leave you any scars?”

I shook my head adamantly. “No. How they treated me will never affect who I am. I could never become them and I never will.”

I shook with the certainty, revisiting every evil thing they’d done to me. The words they’d say, always blaming me and hating me, and calling me a life wrecker. As I grew up, I figured it was because Mom was young when she had me, and she’d endured a crap pregnancy that resulted in my premature birth. If I ever did anything wrong around the house, I was called a “birth defect little thing.”

No child of mine would ever feel the mental pain those words created.

I turned my brain off and rested into Jaxon’s arms, feeling the protective warmth of him and knowing I would never be treated badly by him.

*****

I felt Remy’s hand running along my hip, and then a few strands of my hair were tucked away from my face and behind my ear. My first coherent thought upon stirring from my dream was, how odd he’s touching me for once.

I knew his hands well. I’d sought them out more times than I can count in the night. They were always hot and smooth, not what I expected from a big Jackal like him. I could place them anywhere on my body and I was guaranteed warmth – and no, I never placed them anywhere intimate. My skin leeched off his heat and spread it head to toe.

The hand now touched my collarbone, and then it trailed up my neck. The cold, callous feeling jump started my heart immediately.

That’s not Remy’s hand.

Instinct had me opening my mouth to scream before my eyes even opened. Nothing came out. Harsh, heavy tension pressed against my neck, and I tried aimlessly to flail my body around, to get away from him. He was staring down at me – a large, heavy set man with pale blue eyes and a thick brown beard. I’d never seen him before in my life, and he was here, inside the bunker, killing me.

Where’s Remy? I could see nothing except for the round face before me and his black clothing inches away from my face.

I’m going to die! This is how I’m going to die.

Pain erupted around my face, and the pressure of life being sucked out of me built until my chest constricted painfully. My vision blurred as a veil of darkness began to form around the edges.

All I wanted to do was scream, to cry, to beg for mercy, but this man was intent on killing me, and I was beginning to stop the fight. If death was inevitable, I may as well accept it.

They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. Load of bullshit, or maybe I wasn’t as close as I thought. But there was one thing that did flash before me, and it was Jaxon’s face. I wish he knew how much I have always loved him. I wish it didn’t have to end this way… It’s shocking how much thought can span one second in time; remorse flooded me at all the horrible things I’d done, and then pain at knowing I would never have the opportunity to correct my mistakes. I’m sorry, I kept thinking, I’m sorry I never made it right.

The pressure immediately lifted off of me, and in the dizziness the room spun repeatedly while I opened my mouth as wide as possible and inhaled all the air I could into my lungs. Deep breaths came in and in and then out and out, over and over again until my senses were back and I could hear the sounds of heavy grunts only feet away from me.

Vision spotty, I blinked rapidly and sat up, watching in horror as Remy’s wet, naked body tackled the man. It was an uneven fight – the killer so large, he had Remy by his own neck and slammed against the wall. Panicked and fear stricken, I watched like a coward on the sidelines waiting for an outcome.

What the fuck are you doing?! Get up!

Get up!

GET UP!

I practically fell out of the bed. My legs felt loose, unable to function properly. Adrenaline and trepidation merged into one, and I found myself jumping on the killer’s back. My hands scratched wildly at his face, and one of his arms let go of Remy’s neck and grabbed at me from behind, pulling at my hair and ripping chunks right out of me.

I screamed from the pain but continued digging my fingers into his face. He growled loudly and abruptly jerked to his side, knocking me swiftly off his back. I collided into the oval mirror in the corner of the room and it crashed to the floor beneath me. Sharp pain erupted from my hip.

I’d helped enough to loosen the killer’s arms against Remy’s neck. He was fighting back now, but they were still tumbling around, heavy grunts in the air, fists against flesh. What the fuck could I do except try again? I painfully got back up and jumped back on him, screaming wildly as I dug my fingernails into his face again. One went into his eye and I could feel a squishy, wet sensation as I continued to bury it in there.

He hollered loudly and I felt him take several heavy steps back. Cold hands grabbed at my own and twisted them roughly off his face. A force knocked against him and he fell back, me along with him. Air escaped me as I fell to the cement ground with him on top of me. I could hardly breathe and flailed wildly beneath him, searching once again for air.

I saw Remy suddenly hovering over him, lifting him to a sitting position. There was a piece of mirror in his hand. I backed away just as he slashed him deeply into his throat. Loud guttural noises erupted from the killer, and I shut my eyes as Remy continued to work the mirror into his neck, moving it from ear to ear. The look on his face pierced me to the bone – the flat pressing of his lips, the anger in his eyes, the calmness in which he commanded the piece of mirror he was using to kill him.

Blood splattered everywhere, over his body and over mine. I wasn’t even aware I was still so close until Remy let go of the man, and he slumped to the ground a foot away from me, a river of blood flowing from his almost decapitated head.

This wasn’t like Brett.

No tears escaped me. Just wild shakes from head to toe, my eyes now wide as saucers, taking in the sight before me – of a man that had taken merely seconds to die at the hands of the man I’d been seeking warmth from all night.