Page 120 of Chained

Please. Help me.

The box I delivered here. Bile rises to my throat, but I swallow it down, using all my weight to drag the box from beneath the bed.

"Amora? Talk to me, Amora. Tell me you're here. Tell me you're alive," I say through gritted teeth until finally, the box is out. I don't hear her. I don't feel her moving. I tear open the box, throwing the lid across the room. Panting, I drop to my knees once more. Fingers brushing gently over her face. She's not awake. She's not fucking awake.

"Amora," I whisper, sliding my hands behind her shoulders. She looks more beautiful now than ever before. "I'm here. I'm here, Amora."

Her eyes part slightly through swelling, and I bite back every inch of my fury. I'll kill him. I'll rip his fucking heart from his chest and ram it down his fucking throat, let him choke on it for touching her.

"Jax…?" she whispers, her voice hoarse.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here."

"Are you real?" Her hand shakes as she touches my face, slow and gentle. "Is this real?"

"It's real, I'm real." I can barely breathe as every single fucking feeling floods to my chest. She pulls herself up, wincing through pain and slides her arms around my neck, crawling into my lap. Her body shakes, trembling under my touch as her sobs fill the room.

"I knew you'd come," she sobs against my chest, fingers twisted in my shirt. I hold her close, our bodies connecting like they've always done.

"I'll always come back for you, Amora. I'll always find you," I whisper, hand stroking the back of her neck. The bastard cut her hair; he beat her to a fucking pulp. I try to control the fury building inside, every inch of me alive with her in my arms whilst my insides are rotting with a rage I've never known before.

I pull away slightly, just enough to see her face. "We need to move, okay? We gotta get out of here. Can you walk?" My eyes search hers as she sucks in a breath. She nods, her gaze dropping as we find our feet.

She sways the second she's upright, her knees buckling before she catches herself on my arm. "I've got you," I say, sliding my arm around her waist, careful of the bruising I can see blooming beneath her collarbone. "Lean into me. We'll go slow."

She nods, jaw tight, and I watch her force herself to stand straighter than she probably can. Stubborn, even now. Even like this.

I ease the door open first, checking the corridor before I let her through it. Empty, but the air still smells wrong, that same dust and stillness pressing down on us both. Her hand finds the back of my shirt, fingers curling into the fabric like she's scared I'll disappear if she lets go.

"Stay close to me, okay? Whatever you hear, whatever you see, you keep your eyes on my back. Don't stop."

"Okay," she breathes, her voice barely there.

We move down the narrow stairwell first, her steps unsteady behind me, one hand braced against the wall, the other locked in mine. The gunfire's thinner now than it was, less constant, fewer voices shouting over each other. I keep us pressed to the shadows, checking every landing before I let her past it.

By the second staircase, the sound's changed again from a firefight to something quieter—worse. I can hear the guards calling out from below; they're clearing the rest of whoever attacked. It's over, fuck.

I try not to think of Adrian. He's down there somewhere, and I wasn't there to help him. I fight away every dark thought that tries to force me to crumble. He'll have made it. Fuck, he'll be okay.

We're close to the lobby when she stumbles, her breath catching hard enough that I feel it in my own chest. I pull her against me, both arms around her now, and she doesn't fight it. She just lets her forehead drop to my shoulder for a second like she needs to remember how to keep moving.

"We're almost there," I whisper against her hair. "Jarrod's got a car waiting. We're gonna make it."

She nods against me, and I feel more than hear the small sound she makes, somewhere between a sob and a laugh, disbelief that this might actually be real.

At the top of the last staircase down into the main lobby, I stop her with a hand flat against her stomach.

"I need to carry you through here."

"I can walk⁠—"

"I know you can." I cup her jaw, forcing her eyes to mine. "This isn't about whether you can walk, Amora. I need you to close your eyes for me. Can you do that?"

She searches my face, and I watch her understand what I'm not saying, because how can I tell her that the lobby is full of dead bodies that I don't want her to see?

Thankfully, she figures it out fast. Her throat moves as she swallows, and she slowly nods.

"Okay."