Page 152 of Dark Tangled Truths
Evan meets my eyes with regret, like she’s already lost. But we’re not lost until we’re dead. And that’s not happening. Not here. Not tonight. Not by this asshole.
I wipe the blood from the side of my mouth and look at it on my hand, buying us time. He didn’t go through all this hassle just to kill his obsession now. He wants Evan too much to kill her.
Me? He could probably kill in a heartbeat if he could get the upper hand. But to do that, he will hurt Evan to make me heel.
“So what, you’re going to kill her?” I hedge that bet.
“No, but you will if you take a step toward us.” Jackson’s voice is cold. “Haven’t you ever heard the sayingif I can’t have her, no one can?”
Evan holds perfectly still, but there’s a world of words in her eyes. Things we’ve shared. Things we still need to share. A life not lived yet.
I need to keep her breathing, keep her whole. He won’t take her from me. Even if I have to let her go with him. She’ll still be alive, and that would be enough until I get her back. Because he might have been Evan’s monster, but I’ll be his.
“What do you want?” I ask, tearing my gaze from her to him.
He smirks. “Fucking my girl while you watch could be amusing. I’m sure I could make both of you scream.”
I narrow my eyes, unable to control the rage inside me, but keeping my anger out of my voice. “Not happening.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t have plans for if you decided your whore was worth your time and effort?” Jackson laughs but there’s no joy in it. “If you want her to live, sit in that chair.”
He gestures with his head to the wooden armchair in the corner of the room.
“Slowly,” he says with a sly grin. He turns his eyes to Evan and looks at her with undisguised longing. “I’d hate to make my pretty girl bleed.”
Holding my hands up in surrender, I move to the chair without taking my eyes off Evan. I can’t tell her help is coming. I can’t tell that help to be careful, because he might kill her if hehears them coming. All his focus is on me and Evan. I need to keep it here. I left the door open.
It’s the best I can do. Cam and Hawk aren’t stupid. I didn’t signal the all clear. They won’t come in guns blazing. Mostly because we don’t have guns.
“So what? You’re going to kill me and Evan and run off to live happily ever after in jail?” I sit in the chair almost belligerently, like I haven’t a care in the world. Slouching with my legs spread, leaning back.
“The handcuffs on the end of the bed.” He nods toward them. “Put them on, threaded through the arm of the chair.”
I lean forward to grab them, slowly. If he so much as knicks her skin with that knife, I will make sure he’s in ribbons when this is over. The handcuffs are linked together with about a foot of chain.
“You don’t want to do this, Jackson,” she says as I attach my first wrist and slide the chain under the arm of the chair before attaching the other side.
“Why not? Are you not having fun, pretty girl?” He lifts the knife to her jaw and slides the flat of the blade over her skin without cutting. “Worried your perfect guy won’t want you with a scar on your face? I’ll still want you, pretty girl.”
I hold Evan’s eyes, trying to give her the strength to make it through this. There’s nothing he could do to her that would make me stop loving her. Nothing.
“You know what I don’t get?” Jackson slides the knife back down to her heart. “Why him?”
“What?” Evan is stalling.
Jackson smirks and moves out from behind Evan, taking the knife with him. He stabs the knife into the mattress beside her, and I flinch, jerking on the handcuffs. She gasps in a little breath, but tries to remain calm.
He looks at me with a wicked smile. He wanted to test me, to make sure I was truly bound.
He takes her ankle and tugs her down the bed. He ties her foot to the footboard before going to the other side to bind her other leg. “Why Damon over me?”
She’s lying down, spread eagle, but she’s still clothed and breathing. I don’t like this, but we shouldn’t have to wait for long. The guys will assess the situation and pick the right time to take him out. Preferably when the knife isn’t in Jackson’s hand.
Jackson grabs the knife and sits on the end of the four poster bed between her legs. He studies me like he’s never looked at me a day in his life. Like he truly doesn’t get it.
“We’re practically the same when you break it down.”
I arch an eyebrow, but don’t say anything. Fuck this asshole. We’re not the same.
