Brooke Roberts

The crash of the iron door being opened grabs my attention; my neck is so sore that lifting it takes a superhuman effort. My first thought is that I must have fainted again and this is a dream, because standing in the doorway are Kyle, Raffi, and Seth.

They came! My heart starts to beat with renewed strength; they are going to get me out of here, I’m going home!

Then I notice their hardened expressions and the aggression that seems to radiate from them. Seth's hands are stained with blood, and when our eyes meet, I smile. My swollen cheek hurts, making me stagger. His expression worsens, and his posture shifts; it takes me a few seconds to realize that the bestial sound came from his throat.

What happens next seems to be in slow motion, a distant part of my mind remembers that this could be an adrenaline reaction pumping through my veins. Seth moves toward me with a wicked blade in each hand, slicing through one of my captors as if they were mere sheets of paper, not even bothered by the blood splattering on his skin.

Behind him, Raffi and Kyle fire their weapons, each shot hitting its mark. I don’t know if my captors knew they were coming, as there seems to be an even higher concentration of them today, but this doesn’t seem to bother my friends. I see a mercenary approaching from behind Seth and open my mouth to warn him, but a bullet hits the mercenary before I can make a sound. My gaze follows the bullet’s path and finds Raffi, his long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, and his face also smeared with blood. I search for Kyle, who advances from the opposite side, taking down every scumbag that gets in his way, and like his friends, he is also covered in the red liquid.

The carnage around me should disturb me. The level of violence my men demonstrate and their mastery in creating such destruction should scare me, so why do I only feel pride and love? Perhaps even admiration. I know they would never hurt me, and for the first time since becoming involved with them, I have no doubt about what I feel. I’ve fallen in love with them, all three of them, who, in their individuality, complete me in different ways.

I see my torturer pull the gun from his back and aim it at Seth; my heart tightens. The sound of the shot so close makes my ear ring. NO! I scream mentally, but no sound leaves my mouth as I watch Seth zigzag, a feral smile on his lips as he advances on the man who looks like a lion.

His movement is too fast for me to understand, but one second my torturer is aiming the gun, and the next, he’s screaming and holding his wrist, blood running through his fingers. The sound of Seth’s body colliding with his seems to resonate within me; they fall beside me, with my friend pounding the face of my attacker.

Someone grabs my arm, and this time my voice works, and a terrified scream escapes my throat.

“It’s me, Sunshine.” Kyle’s voice instantly calms me. I feel a sob rise through my body, making me convulse; my ribs protest, and a groan of pain escapes my lips. “Shhhhh, it’s going to be okay, it’s over.” He runs his hand through my hair, holding my face and wiping my tears.

I realize the gunfire has stopped, and when I look to the side, Rafael is there. I’m going home; this is real.

He crouches and picks up one of Seth’s daggers, which he continues to use on my tormentor, though he seems to only strike non-vital points. With swift movements, Raffi releases me and pulls me into his arms. My legs are numb, and just standing makes me dizzy, or maybe it’s me.

“Sorry for the delay, babygirl,” he murmurs, embracing me. I ignore all the pains that flood my body like a Christmas tree's blinking lights. I feel another person's warmth at my back as Raffi slides his arm over one of my shoulders for support, and Kyle takes the other side, guiding me slowly toward the door.

Silence falls, followed by the agonized groans of my captor. We all turn to see Seth standing with a foot on the chest of the bastard who seems to be struggling to breathe. Good, I think, and the cold voice that emits the thought is one I’ve never heard before.

“Brooke...” Seth calls me, his voice trembling. Looking closer, I see his entire body seems to be vibrating. “Should I offer you the chance for revenge? The opportunity to end this yourself?”

He walks toward me, ignoring the man on the floor, and pulls a pistol from his holster, offering it to me. For a moment, I thought he would give me one of the daggers he used to gut the others. I don’t remember giving the command, but I wrap my trembling fingers around the gun’s handle.

“It’s heavier than all the times Raffi took me to practice,” I think.

“You don’t have to do this, Brooke,” Kyle says. But my gaze is fixed on the man who has tortured me for what feels like an eternity. The one who threatened to rape me, kill me, accused the men around me of vile things, and said I was just a warm hole for their pleasure. The one who tried to obliterate my hope of ever seeing the world beyond these stinky walls.

“He’s right,” Raffi agrees, and Seth turns to them.

“You don’t understand.” He shifts his attention back to me. “We’ll end this now. When we leave here, you’ll be sure he’ll never touch you again. You can take your revenge now, or I’ll be happy to execute it for you, Abelhinha.” His eyes shine incandescently under the warehouse’s yellow light.

I take a deep breath, which is a terrible idea as it sends a sharp pain through my ribs where the bleeding man kicked me relentlessly. My tormentor’s eyes are pools of hatred. I know he will terrorize me forever. No, when I leave here, he will have no more of me or my time. I refuse to give him any more power, to let him deprive me of my life. I’ve survived him and all his cruel ministrations. He’s stolen enough from me.

Kyle starts to say something, but I shut off the part of my brain that listens. Seth’s hand wraps around my waist; his warmth is an anchor, a reminder of what still awaits me outside these walls.

I straighten myself as best I can through the pain. I square my shoulders, adjust my fingers on the gun’s grip slick with Seth’s blood, and face my torturer one last time.

Maybe I should let Seth do this; I can’t go back now.

“Are you going to kill me, bitch?” he taunts, spitting blood at me.

“I said they would come for me,” I declare and pull the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. Just like Raffi taught me: two to the chest, one to the head. It wasn’t exactly in the middle of his forehead, but it does the job, and his body falls backward with the impact, blood spraying on me in the process.

I killed a man.

I killed a man.

I’m a killer.

My breathing quickens, the only sound in the abandoned warehouse. My arms still firmly hold the gun, my shoulders tense. The muted echo of the gunshots continues to ring in my ears, as if I'm still pulling the trigger. Warm hands caress my arm until they reach my hands, gently moving my finger from the trigger and securing the gun before handing it off to someone behind me.

My eyes remain fixed on the lifeless body, on the blood pooling around it, on the way his chest remains still. A pair of blue eyes replaces the morbid image as Seth stands in front of me, wiping away the tears I hadn’t realized were streaming down my face. He smiles tenderly before pressing his lips against mine, claiming not just my mouth but my shattered soul.

“From now on, whenever you feel lost in the dark, reach out and I will be there,” he whispers in my ear as he breaks the kiss, pulling back and locking his penetrating gaze on me. “Nothing you become can push me away from you, Abelhinha. Not anymore.”

His words feel like a promise burned into my skin, my heart, my soul.

“Come on, babygirl, let’s go home,” Raffi announces, and a third hand touches my waist.

Home.

I’m really going to leave here. The enormity of this realization hits me, my muscles relax, and with that, the adrenaline fades and all my pain returns with double the force.

My knees give way, and Seth supports me. His eyes searching for the source of my pain.

“Maybe we can stop at a hospital first?” I suggest.

“I’ve already informed Dr. Young that we’re on our way,” Kyle says, and I feel his touch on my hair.

All my men are covered in blood, Seth being the worst of them. I raise my hand to touch Kyle’s face and notice the dried blood on my skin. For the first time since everything between us began, I feel that my place is with them. My head has finally understood what my heart has known for a long time: I belong to them, as much as they belong to me.