"You are stronger than you think. You have gotten through every bad day in your life, and you are undefeated." – Unknown
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Chapter 87
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Maggie

I still hadn't grasped the situation in a way that helped. Any idea or answer in how this, him, was real. 

My father was dead. He was supposed to be dead.

I could admit it; my mental health wasn't exactly squeaky clean, but I knew for a fact that I wasn't imagining this. I had spent the past decade trying not to.

Denial didn't change a thing, though. My father was here.

In front of me, sitting in a chair with a gun in his lap, and one of Luke's beers in the hand hanging over the arm of the chair.

My vision was blurring around the edges, I started to realize once the image became nebulous.

My father caught my incredulity, and returned it with glee. "Surprised to see me?" Chuckling, he tapped the gun against his knee with a shrug. "I'll say, I'm real surprised to see you. You've been hard to catch, Maggie."

My lungs had to work extra hard to keep me up. I wasn't even sure about the rest of me, because just opening my lips seemed like too much of a task.

"How..." I stumbled back on heavy legs. "How are you..."

"How am I what? Alive?"

My dumbfounded expression answered for me.

He pointed to the sofa, a smirk hanging off the corner of his lips. "Before you start asking questions, I suggest you take a seat." Crossing his feet at the ends, he shrugged, tilting his bottle at the exit. "And, you can try getting to the door. In fact, I'd love to see it. You won't even make it to your car before you're getting dragged right back in, though." Another shrug as he lifted the beer to his lips. "Pick which one will be easiest, sugar."

Regardless of his warning, my eyes darted over to the exit, where the door was shut. It was getting dark outside , so I couldn't tell if anyone else was out there. I didn't trust him enough to take his word for it, so I had to rely on my own guesses.

I knew he wasn't alone. As I said, half of his goons were men involved in my case. They were just as set on getting revenge.

I wasn't sure how many my father brought with him, nor how many were already inside of the house with us, but I knew without a weapon, it was enough to lose.

Dreadful pebbles made my heart sink. I couldn't get out.

The only option was to fight. I could do that.

If I went down, then I was taking some of these dirty sons of bitches with me. I would do anything in this world to stop other children from suffering that same torture I did by leaving these types of people alive.

I needed to get back to Luke and I's room, by any means necessary. That was where my gun was. In order to do that, I would have to feed the monster until his claws came out.

Just sitting down on the church made my skin crawl in a way it had never done before. I didn't know how long my father had been here, but just his presence alone was enough to turn any positives into evil, corrupted negatives.

My father watched me with a smile that I recognized as trouble. It was the one he always wore before another client came in, and after he or the others had finished with me. After I was left with another part of my soul bloodied, while they left satisfied, and my dad paid.

I never thought I'd see it, again.

Yet, here it was.

The fear made my limbs go stiff as I felt him observe me over. His eyes did enough. Even without voicing it, I could tell at least one of his many intentions for me.

I could vow one thing. I wouldn't let it happen. I would have a hole in my fucking chest, before I let it happen, again.

He had been in jail for a decade, now, and I could see that not much had changed. Physically.

Emotionally, though, the build of the anger in him made him appear older.

His body appeared thinner than I remembered, which would have pleased me under different circumstances, as it suggested he hadn't been properly nourished. A jagged, aging scar traced a path along his long face, starting from the underside of his chin and ending in the middle of his left jaw. It was barely noticeable beneath the long, dark stubble on his face, which almost resembled a goatee. His brown, nearly black hair had been buzzed short, making his receding hairline more pronounced. His dark eyes, coal-black and soulless, were rimmed with red streaks, undoubtedly a result of his years of drug and alcohol use.

Those same eyes jerked up to mine, and it nearly startled me back into hell before I pushed it back down.

Despite how terrified I was, I couldn't let it show in my actions, nor in my words. I forced my quivering lips still. Marked my expression with nothingness, and remained quiet.

Never again. Even in death, I would never let him think that he won, or that he took something else away from me.

He was the first to break our eye contact, diverting his gaze to his beer as he delved into thought. "That young man, shit, what was his name..." he began to mutter a series of guesses before dismissing it. "I can't remember, but he's William Ryder's boy. Kade, I think. Jesus, he's all William whined about when we were cellmates, always bitching and crying about him never answering his letters or visiting. I should have known better than to trust the soft son of a bitch, because the moment I was told by an old friend that one of the guards heard talk from William that his son reached out to him after a decade? After all of the shit William did to that boy and his mother and brother? And, after I find out that you somehow made close friends with three of the most wealthiest men in this city, and one of those men just so happens to be Kade Ryder, the best friend of the man you've been fucking for the past couple of months? I knew something was up."

My expression crumbled as the pieces of realization slowly fell into place, revealing the puzzle my father had been crafting all along.

"I have to give it to him, though," he mused, glancing over his gun with a sigh. "Whoever he hired was pretty good at finding me, but not good enough, apparently." At the lost of color in my face, his smile grew from ear to ear. "They got the wrong man. One of my men, actually, which was a lost on my side, but better him than me." Shrugging, he added, "I slipped away just in time. I won't bore you with the rest of the details, but just know: money makes the world go round for a reason. It even helped me fake my death with the mayor's help. It only made it even easier to lie and discard of the body, too, because the one that was killed, the wrong one? It's been a pile of ashes for months, now. Who would check identification for that, especially after Ryan Vaudest demands otherwise?"

My mind was spinning. Everything had changed so quickly, yet it all seemed to be moving to the speed of a snail.

The man that Luke and Kade hired got the wrong man. My father and Luke's father had been working together, for only god knows how long. Probably since the beginning of Luke and I's relationship, maybe even during our friendship, if I could guess.

Oh my god.

Luke wasn't here, and there was no way he was aware of what was happening here, so he wouldn't be coming back here. My father had known all along, and waited until he could get me alone to strike.

The sound of a shrill-like laugh made me jump. It sounded like the gates of hell being scraped open.

"I have to give it to you, though, sugar," he emphasized, shaking a finger at me. "You're a clever little slut, Maggie. You, somehow, survived every single attempt my men threw at you. You fought this entire time, even though it was all, inevitably, a losing game." A pleased sigh came from him. "It nearly makes me teary eyed knowing that I raised such a strong-willed woman."

I bit into my trembling lip to stop it from giving me away. My everything was worsening the longer we continued on. Every wall of strength I had built was beginning to tumble just from his presence.

This person, this monster had taught me weakness and vulnerability before I could even spell either word. Ten years of trying to unlearn it, half that of faking it, and only one real year of actually doing it was all going to shit around him.

"And, this..." His expression was full of pride as he waved the gun around the house. "You managed to get a Vaudest. A Vaudest, Maggie. Do you know how impressive that is?" He motioned toward the door. "I saw that nice ride just outside, too. And, this place, Jesus. You really had Luke wrapped around your finger, baby." His laugh was short. "What did you do to get him hooked on you the way you did?"

My fists clenched in my lap. I could hear the harsh words dipping in my ears like hot candle wax before they were even said.

"Let me guess..." he tsked twice. "The mayor, his first guess was a little Vaudest baby in your tummy." The taunt in his voice grew. "So, you tell me. Did Luke knock you up, Maggie? Is that how you got all of this and why you've two been so close?"

He wanted to see me break, again, since I had apparently gotten the nerve to forget how to do so when the person who helped put me back together saw me break, yet still thought me just as beautiful.

My father watched me with a mocking eye. I kept my face still, but I couldn't lose the tears in my eyes. To avoid showing them, I kept my gaze on my lap.

"Silly me." The drawl of his chuckle was slow. "I forgot that's not really an option for you, is it, Maggie?"

My hand was already itching for the gun I would hopefully soon hold in it.

"I'll take another guess, then," he said. "This one's obvious. You must have really been satisfying the man in order for him to—"

"Don't say that," I whispered.

His grin widened at my reaction. "I'm just saying. All of those lessons I gave you must have really paid off in order for you to bag all of this just from scratch. I hope I receive the appreciation I deserve—"

My temper hit its peak. "Appreciation?" I hissed. "Are you serious?"

"Watch your mouth, Maggie—"

"You watch your goddamned mouth," I cut over him. How fucking dare he? "Because, if I hear it, ever tell me that I should be appreciative of you doing what you did, of you letting other—"

My words were halted at his next move. All I saw was a flash of him raising up from his chair, then he was looming over me.

My back went against the cushions until it no longer could. He leaned in until his hot, peppermint and beer drenched breath hit my face.

"You wanna know what I've always hated about you, Maggie?" Evil mirrored eyes narrowed at me. "You've always been an ungrateful little bitch. I made you into a woman before the cruelty of the world could, Maggie. I taught you how to cater to a man early, so that you could have a better chance at life—"

"Is that what you call it?" I hissed back, glaring back into his eyes. "Is that what you call being such a sick, twisted fuck that you take a little girl's innocence before she can even sing the fucking alphabet?"

The anger made his eyes go wide, just for a second. He slammed a hand onto the cushion right behind my head, making that exact limb bounce before it settled back into place.

"I needed that money. We needed that money. Me, your brother and mother, you. It was a last choice, something that broke my heart to do to my only baby girl, but I had to. Why can't you see that?" he hissed, baring his teeth like a dog. "It was something I did to make sure that we all survived. You were a solution to everything, and if you would have seen that, if you would have been grateful, then we wouldn't be here, today."

He was already spiraling. He was too close. Just a couple of minutes of being in the same space as him felt like suffocation.

I searched my mind for a solution, but tried my hardest not to let it show. My fingers dug into the sofa until the material burned my skin.

The sofa.

My knives. The night Luke moved me in, he had placed knives in several spots around the house, like I asked. It had been so long ago, though, I wasn't sure if he kept them around. I could only hope.

My father was still spewing bullshit. I had tuned him out in order to save a bit of sanity, but I forced myself to return.

"...And, of course, you went and cried wolf," he sneered at me, a familiar rage in his eyes. It was the one I'd seen before he tried to attack me at court after hearing his sentence. "You sent me to prison for ten years. Ten fucking years, Maggie. Do you have any idea what happened to me in there?"

Slowly, I let my hands relax until my palms were flat against the cushions. I had to make it look neutral.

Despite the fear being so strong, I couldn't show it to the monster any longer. I wouldn't.

"Let me guess." I mirrored his rage to the last detail. "You still didn't manage to become half of a man?"

His scowl shifted to something darker. His hand raised to strike me, and that was all I caught before my body was being against the hard floor.

My vision blurred as I recounted the last seconds, but the sharp, pulse in my jaw did it for me. It followed up with an ache, as well as the taste of blood from his punch.

As soon as I shifted, my father swung, again. This time, his fist smashed into my nose so hard, I thought it broken for a moment. It sent me back to the ground with a splatter of blood to my side. Fuck.

"I won't tolerate disrespect, Maggie, you know that I never have." The echo of his footsteps stopped in front of me. "I'll always get it out of you, one way or another."

The ache had grown from not only my jaw and nose, but my entire face, it seemed. The hits hurt like shit, but I wouldn't cry about it. Not in front of him.

"What?" my dad chuckled at my attempt. "Is there something you wanna say—"

I spat at his feet. The blood mixed in made his shoes go red.

"Is that it? Ten years in prison, and those weak ass punches are the best you can come up with?" I swept a hand under my nose, catching some of the crimson droplets with a finger as I chuckled. "Your crackhead of a wife hit harder than that, bitch."

His eyes filled with rage until I saw pure malice. Hate contorted his face, and then he swung his foot back.

I felt the impact before it was even given. His heel struck my side, and I crumpled. Three more brutal kicks followed, the last one ending with a painful stomp, likely leaving a shoe imprint on my skin.

My body throbbed with pain, despite my feeble attempt to shield myself with my arms.

He paused, his huff the only sound I could register amidst the agony coursing through my body. I wasn't certain, but judging from his kick, I could guess he'd already broken a rib.

Struggling to draw in air, I forced myself back up, as I always had throughout my life, and as I vowed to continue even in the face of death.

"Beg and I'll stop."

I stayed quiet, other than my spasms of gasps.

My father marched forward. "I said, beg!" Another kick to my stomach that nearly made me throw up the bagel Jax forced me to eat.

I doubled over, again. I knew for a fact that a rib was definitely broken, now.

Get up, Maggie.

That voice was what willed me on. It took me a moment to collect myself through the pain, but with all of my strength behind it, I raised my head, again.

"I'll..." My chest continued to punch in and out while I breathed out, "I'll beg you to keep going before I ever beg you to stop."

He wouldn't break me, again. I would break myself first, before I ever let him, or anyone else break me, again.

His glare burned into mine. The challenge of my defiance was ticking at the last of his sanity, but I didn't let it back me down.

Unhinging his jaw, he gave a chuckle that made my stomach hurt even more, despite the hits.

"Did you know that I visited Kayla the same week I got out?" At the mention of my mother, my brain crushed to pebbles. My father ran a hand down his face, shaking his head as he chuckled. "You should see her, now. The woman's a church-going, all mighty saint, now."

Through the pain, I managed to grit out, "Did I give the impression that I actually gave a fuck?"

"I just wanted to tell you that she sends her apologies," he said. "She even tried to tell, beg me, to call this off, to leave you alone, and let you live. Can you believe that shit?"

I didn't respond, because there were no other emotion for me to string off of. I didn't feel anything.

My mother had known what my father and the others were doing, yet she hadn't stopped it. She drowned herself in drugs, but on the rare occasions she was sober, she was jealous and vengeful that her husband was giving me the attention I never even fucking wanted.

I didn't care to know that she changed, or that she was sorry. Someone changing and seeking your forgiveness didn't always mean that you had to give it. The only person you were responsible in giving it to was yourself, not them and definitely not their conscious.

"But, just like her..." my dad continued, a sick smile painting his face. "No one's going to save you, Maggie. Not Luke, and boy..." he paused to chuckle, shaking his head. "I've seen the man fight, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I would hate to have to go against that shit. The guy's batshit crazy when it comes to you, but luckily, we'll be gone soon and I won't have to worry about it." Shrugging, he continued on with, "You're alone, Maggie. Not a soul's gonna stop this. Not Luke. Not your friends. Not yourself. And, for damn sure, not the brother you nearly got killed—"

"Don't say that," I hissed, but it was weak with the ache buried in my side. "Don't you ever say that, again."

"Mhm?" he returned, innocently. "Jax. My son." A fond expression followed up as he sighed. "I always regretted hurting him, but when I came to and realized that he almost died for you?" A dry laugh left him. "It made me sick to my stomach. You nearly killed your brother—"

The anger made my vision labor for a moment. "You nearly killed your son."

"I'm not about to go back and forth with you, Maggie." He glanced over the house with a small smile. "As I said, though. He's not coming to help you. No one is. Not even that adorable little Rottweiler I hear the Vaudest boy is fond of."

My heart fell to my knees. Fang. "What did you do to him?" That was why he hadn't come to the door. Because, he was possibly...

Panic grasped me. "Did you kill him?"

"God, no. I'm not a monster, Maggie," he chuckled. "The son of a bitch nearly took my hand off, but Ryan warned me so I came ready for the little shit with a sedative. He'll be asleep for the next couple of hours, long enough so that I'll be able to get you out of here easily."

Relief made my bruised lungs a little lighter, but barely. The barely being the end.

He sighed. "Retake your seat, though." He motioned to the sofa. "I'd like to finish our little conversation first. Preferably without your interruptions this time, too."

I didn't want to do shit he said, but it would be more beneficial for me since the knives were probably in the cushions.

As soon as I was sat, my father leaned in even closer. While he did, my fingers dug into the spaces between the cushions.

I nearly burst with relief at the cool, sharp tip of the knife against my fingers. It wasn't large, or small. It was enough.

I kept my eyes on him. "Did you come here to disappoint me with your punches, or for something else?" The more I talked, the better chance I had at getting the knife.

"No..." he muttered to himself, completely oblivious to my doings. His eyes swept over my figure, then returned to me with a grin. "I'm not gonna ruin this pretty face of yours, yet. It'll make me a fortune, now. I'll even make sure to keep you all nice and dazed with heroin to make everything easier on you this time. The boys are gonna need it and this new body of yours for the next couple of weeks, too. I wanna see what made that Vaudest boy so obsessed with you after I left you as damaged as I did."

That familiar panic that that little girl had been endured to rushed into my lungs until they felt like they were full of cement.

I wasn't her, though. She was me, but I wasn't her.

I was going to be honest, though. I was tired of everything. I was scared. I wanted to cry until I couldn't any longer.

I wouldn't, though. Being a crybaby, little trembly bitch was something that I wouldn't ever be for the man in front of me.

My fingers grazed the handle of the knife. All I needed to do was get a good grip. "How did you get in?"

"You tell me." My father shrugged. "You broke Luke's heart, his love and only god knows what else. You left him. Why would he give a shit about you after that?" His snort made my stomach clench with disgust. "I can't even blame him. Why would he settle for someone as low, as used, and as fucked as you, Maggie? You were dumb to consider otherwise." Leaning up from me, he turned to face the door with amusement, but his speech was meant for me, "Maybe he got bored of you, though. Maybe he was the one to give me a key because he wants revenge for his broken heart. Who knows?"

His words ran me over like a train, but I didn't remain on the tracks for too long.

Luke wouldn't do that. Luke wouldn't ever do that, no matter what happened between us. A deranged monster wouldn't make me think any differently.

With his back to me, I found my grip on the handle of the knife.

I needed was to get him close, again. He had left his gun in the chair, so all he had was himself. I could work with that.

"I hope you know..." My grip tightened around the handle. "I'm not that same little girl, anymore."

At this, he turned on a slow foot. The amusement made his eyes shine back at me.

"I'm counting on it," he countered, a smile on. "And, so are the others." My wrist moved just enough to avoid the knife getting caught on the material of the couch. My father retook his position, leaning over me until I wanted to throw up at his nasty everything. "I'm not the only man you've pissed off with your actions, Maggie."

My free hand clenched into a fist. "My actions?"

"Your actions," he repeated with malice. "You, Maggie. You lied. You cried to the judge, and to everyone else about how much of a monster I was, when I've known the truth all along..." Leaning closer, he didn't stop until he knew I couldn't avoid his gaze. "You enjoyed every fucking bit of it."

My body went rigid, and for a second, I thought my soul had detached from my body.

There were many things sexual abuse left behind physically, especially for children: the bruises, the bloody sheets, underwear, and thighs, the fatigue, the early physical development, the hot, scorching baths to help the soreness and the raw skin that followed, because no matter how much you scrubbed and washed at the skin they touched, it felt as if you would never be clean.

This, though, it was one of the many emotional aspects a victim was forced to build off of. It was what allowed a lot of abusers to get away with what they'd done, especially with children: the manipulation they leave behind, both mentally and physically.

When confronted, they deny the allegations, while twisting and marking their own lies out as truths to the victims. It was all a mind game, where they were able to make victims feel as if maybe it didn't happen, or maybe they had overreacted, even with literal proof of the crime being done. The abuser knew the words, the tricks and techniques to turn their victim's minds into one that fit their narrative.

It was what what had silenced me for so long as a child. It was what silences a lot of children, especially with a relative: manipulation. Whether it be the abuser coaxing the child with games or gifts, threatening another family member, the victim themself, or a million other things that children, who are most reactive to fear at that age, will listen to.

It was unfair to ask why a victim stayed quiet, especially as a child, who had been taught and coaxed into being that way. It was something that always lit a different type of fire inside of me. Hearing someone blame a victim, rather than the abuser themself.

It's an entirely different thing when you're actually inside of the glass box that others love to observe and judge from. It was a different type of agony that made the glass around you cut skin you were already losing.

My father's taunts were hitting me from either direction, now. As I had for the last fifteen years, I found myself asking if it had really happened, if my mind had made everything up, if I were actually crazy and had overdramatized it, despite there being evidence, physically and mentally. The psychological imprint my father had left behind managed to make it all go to shit, though.

It was something my psychologist had helped me confront and control long ago. It was something I was so ashamed of admitting, along with much else. It took me an entire year just to open up to her about this part so that she could help me with it.

Despite how painful it was, I recounted the past two decades, and erased the parts that my father had tried to make fit his own narrative. And, I was back.

My father was still talking, I realized at the sharp piece his words left behind in my ears. It wasn't until I felt his hand on my thigh that I was forced back to reality.

"You should have just accepted it," he offered a sweet smile that was everything but that. "You lost, Maggie. You lost before I even stepped into this house."

His words made the rage ignite inside of me from the bottom and on up. It controlled my next actions.

My hand wrapped around his goatee until he winced, and by it, I yanked him closer until we were to eye level.

My eyes narrowed at him. "Look at me when I say, swear, this shit to you." My hiss was low so that the words would only pierce his ear, "No matter what happens today, you didn't win. You didn't. Not then, not now, and not ever."

His dark eyes felt like looking into an endless cycle of evil. "Are you sure about that, Maggie?"

I was. I was more sure of it than anything else in this world.

I never dropped my eyes from his as I inhaled. It was the most freeing breath I had ever experienced.

"I lived," I said my words steadily. The honesty in them and my heart were identical. "And, I loved. I was loved. I lived, I loved, and I learned in a way that you and your fucked head could only dream of." My words only bit at his glare. "I want you to know that nothing you do, nothing you have done, and nothing you will do, will change that, or anything else."

Images of Luke, and everything he had found in me, and the appreciation I had of him letting me see and love them in him. My grandmother. My brother. My friends. They were the reason I only had honesty in swearing that to the man who had thought he took my ability to say, do, any of this.

If he were to take my life, right now, then that would be it. My soul and my heart, though. The ones that I had rebuilt from the ashes, with the people, the man and the soulmate that had loved the worst pieces even harder...they were mine. I wouldn't lose that.

I released my father's beard with a shove, causing him to stumbled back. His façade cracked right along with it.

In between the lines, anger and frustration struck him, because he knew that no matter how this day ended, he would never win if I didn't let him. And, I wouldn't.

I nodded to confirm it, a mocking smile settling on my face. "You lost." I gulped down the swell of emotion in my throat to mark the most honest thing I knew, "I won."

I took his shock as an opportunity. I had a decent right hook already from my self-defense classes, but Luke had taught me his own ages ago, something that was deadly with the right wrath behind it.

My free hand tightened into a fist, and I swung as hard as I could. It wasn't the best with my position, but once I heard the pop, I silently screamed a thank you to Luke for it.

He stumbled back, a hand to his nose. "Shit!"

Before he got too far, I lunged, again, this time with the hand holding the knife. Aimed at his side, I tried my fucking hardest to let it sink as deep as it could.

From his scream, I knew that it worked. I had stuck it deep enough to make the fabric of his shirt stain red in seconds.

I shot up from the sofa, despite the sting in my body, and slammed a hand in the same spot I stabbed him. His screams nearly turned into howls, but I couldn't wash in the satisfaction, right now.

Curving around his body, feet probably gained blisters from how hard they slammed against the floors, but I made it to the front door in seconds.

I forced my legs to still in order to get the door open, my hand going to the handle. Just as I took my first descent onto the stair, I was being stopped.

A tall figure towered over mine as he stepped forward. Amused eyes stared back into mine, ones that knocked me back before his shove did.

"Well, aren't you lovely?" he cast a grin behind me, to my father, but when I turned, I didn't see him, so I guess he was tending to his wound in one of the bathrooms. The man turned his blue eyes back to mine. "You're just as pretty as Owen mentioned."

Panic surrounded me as he grew closer. He didn't stop until my back was against the wall.

A tiny smirk followed as he stared me down. "I'll be polite and wait for my turn, but a peek doesn't sound too selfish." He chuckled. "Make it easy on the both of us, got it?"

Just as his fingers grazed the hem of my shirt, that same action was being stopped before it could go any further. I heard a thump, then a curse that only one voice could change to be their own.

I blinked, confused at the shift. Regardless of however the fuck it happened, though, I was grateful.

Then, I looked ahead of me and everything seemed to change.

Luke had thrown the man off of me and to the floor, and in that same moment, stomped the man's face in until the bottom of his shoe was darkened with blood. The man wasn't moving any longer, either.

Luke slammed his foot into his face a final time, the action so hard that some of the man's teeth fell out.

At my sharp intake of breath, those same dark, homely eyes met mine. The rage behind them slowly shifted into something much lighter the longer we stared back at one another.

The familiar string in between our souls retied the second we locked eyes. It had never left, and neither did our hearts, which were rejoicing like old friends. They had finally been returned to their rightful places.

My body was trembling at the sight of him, resisting against the familiar pull his own brought on. We had bigger priorities right now, though.

Luke was having the same realization. Past the relief in his expression, he let it settle into action. It was the same one I had seen the days we talked about this moment.

"Come here. Now." A hand went around my arm in a grip that couldn't be broken. Leading us to the hallway, his demeanor started to still over with a mission. "There's more outside. They're about to come in."

I nodded, quickly. "My gun is—" My words ceased as I caught the silver glint from Luke's side, where one of the room doors were open. The panic caught up to me as I yanked on Luke's arm. "Luke, watch out!"

His head turned in that direction, but it was too late. The man had rushed out from the room, and swiped his knife at Luke's side.

Shit.

Luke's curse came in the form of a hiss, but because of my yell, he had moved just enough to avoid the blade going into his skin. It was enough relief to sustain me, but it was still worrisome.

Luke grabbed the man before he got too far, and the same arm he used to stab him was the one that Luke broke until the man's screams made me flinch. At its pop, I thought him done, but he went back for the next one until both arms were broken.

Luke, unfazed by nearly getting stabbed to death, kept his stone-faced cover up as he tossed the man back into the room. "I'll handle him later." With that, his grip went around my arm, again.

My rambles of concern were nothing to him. He ignored them until we were in front of our bedroom door.

As soon as we were in, he locked it behind us, then pushed the dresser, which was right next to the door, in front of it with ease.

He jerked around, and made his way to me, quickly. Gentle hands cradled my face in them.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" he rushed out, eyes wild as they searched me over. At the blood from my nose, and the bruise I was sure was forming on my jaw, rage made his expression shift into a dark promise. "I'm gonna fucking kill him." A hand stroked the side of my head as he let the rage settle for me. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, Maggie. I had no idea. I tried to get here as quick—"

My hands lowered to his shirt, which was stained with red. It wasn't much, but it was still enough to make my concern hit the roof.

"Are you okay?" I tried to lift his shirt, but he wouldn't let me. "Luke—"

"It was just a graze, baby. I'm fine." His hands lowered to my cheeks, eyes latched onto. A million messages were sent through that alone. "We'll have time for this part, later on, yeah?"

I nodded, hurriedly. As badly as we wanted to make our reintroductions after a long, tortuous month apart, this was the worst possible time to do so.

Luke pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, my lips, then my forehead, again. They were shaky, but so effective, too. Despite the past couple of minutes, that alone did me more comfort than anything else.

Determination concreted him over, again. Nodding to himself, he released me to turn to his dresser, where his guns were.

While I loaded mine, I could hear Luke getting his ready to an impressive pace. There were thumps against the door as they attempted to get into the room, then curses when they couldn't, but that was it.

I looked to Luke. "How did you find out?"

"My dad," he muttered as he shoved another magazine into the pistol. As soon as he had it, he placed it on top of the dresser to look at me. "He gave yours my address, and a key. Xander and Quinn helped trace you, too. They've all been working together the entire time." His next words were dark, "The check. The attacks. All of it. It was all their planning."

I had to stop my jaw from dropping. My father had told me himself that they were working together, but now I knew it run much deeper than that. I shouldn't even be shocked, though, but hearing that, as well as Xander and Quinn's involvement in this did it for me.

"He's taken care of, though, and Xander and Quinn will be too," Luke added in a mumble as he moved toward the door to move the dresser. "Just like the rest of them. My dad told me there's eight, plus your dad. I snuck up on one on the outside in order to get in, and the one inside."

"Seven left. Okay..." I grabbed my gun; there were enough bullets between us to end it. "Let's go."

"No."

My movements stilled.

I raised my gaze to Luke. "What?"

"You're staying here." He motioned to the bed with a head flick. "Stay in our room, keep away from the windows and the doors, and let me handle it."

My eyes nearly bulged out of my head. "What? No—"

Turning, he shook his head with a mumbled, "I'm not arguing about this with you, Maggie."

Disbelief swiveled in with my anger at his stubbornness. "No, Luke." I marched toward him, and jerked him around by his arm. "I'm helping you do this. It'll be easier."

"Maggie." His voice lacked any argument as he trudged toward the door. "It'll be easier if you're as far away as possible from the danger—"

"Luke!" I snapped, still following after him. He wasn't listening. "I'm not letting you get hurt over my shit—"

He jerked around, and long gone was the patience he was barely hanging onto. Anger lit like balls of fire in his eyes. "And, you're mine, Maggie!" he bellowed so loudly, it boomed through the room until I thought the walls were shaking. His gaze bore into mine with hardness. "You're mine, and I'm not letting shit happen to you. I'll be damned if I ever let you step into this shit and get hurt."

"And, you're mine, Luke!" I attempted, my frustration growing. "What difference is there—"

His feet were quick as he marched himself over to my position. He didn't stop until our chests were grazing, but I didn't move.

"The difference is that you're going to stay here, and you're going to let me go out there to finish this shit for good. I'm not listening to any type of argument," he hissed so low, it made my ears hum. His gaze bore into mine, darkness clouding it. "You won't come out of this room, and you won't risk hurting yourself. Not while I'm here." When my lips parted, he shook his head, adding in a near growl, "I'll tie you to the bed, right now if that means keeping you safe. You can do and you can say whatever you want, but that shit still won't change, do you understand me?"

I felt like screaming. Stomping my foot, and having a childish fit for the books. The frustration was making me even more fucking frustrated.

It began to build until the tears in my eyes did, too. I couldn't stop them.

When Luke caught them, his glare began to melt around the edges until his expression did the same.

"You can't leave me here." The first tear burned my cheek, my words turning into a plea, "You can't. Not while there's a chance of you getting hurt, and not coming back—"

"Hey, hey," Luke whispered, his icy mold melting to pieces until the softness was left behind. "Maggie, I'll be fine."

"We don't know that." I didn't even care to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "Please. Please, Luke. I've gotten so many people hurt, but you..." My head dipped as the pain threatened to tear me in half. "I can't think of you getting hurt, or worse and..." I couldn't finish. Just the image of it sent me into another headspace.

At my next tear, Luke moved closer to cup my face. Shaking his head, he lifted mine to his.

"Norris, baby," he consoled, softly, moving strands of my hairs back until he had a view of me. "It's going to be okay. I'll be okay. We'll both be okay." At my sunken expression, a frown drooped his lips before he set it in a straight line. "Do you remember what I told you the night you moved in, baby?"

I sniffled, and barely forced out the words, "I'm untouchable."

"Mhm, and that shit, and a whole lot else rubbed off on me," he attempted, but I couldn't find the comfort in anything other than knowing that he was safe. That he was here with me forever. He caught it, and brought his hand to the back of my head. "Maggie."

"Luke," I croaked out, slowly raising my eyes to his. My soul ached at the thought of never seeing them, again. "Please."

Conflict crossed his expression quickly, but at my own, he sighed and shook his head at himself before meeting me, again.

His acceptance was quiet, "Fine."

A different relief filled me as my shoulders slumped. I didn't know what made his decision shift, but I wouldn't question it. We could end this together.

"Now," he muttered, earning my eyes.

I saw his chest shake under a breath. "Look up, angel."

It was an odd request, but slowly, I did.

"Come on, smartass, you know this shit already." I got it, then. At my choked laugh, Luke smiled, his eyes gleaming back at me so heavily. "Shit, you know how those eyes of yours get me, Norris." My expression softened, then melted altogether when his did. "Down this time for me, baby."

I looked down.

"Now, look right at me." His finger tipped my chin up, his gaze hugging mine softly. "See it, yet?"

My heart pounded harder and harder the longer I reflected on how far those words had brought us. How far we had brought the other. They, and him meant everything to me.

Through a sniffle, I shook my head, my chuckle weak as I rolled my eyes. "See what, you idiot—"

The words were taken by his lips in a kiss. My own reacted as if they had never gone without his, yet they took and returned the same fire as if we'd never burn out, because we never had before. I never wanted to break it, nor did I want to lose it.

The connection did wonders, from the tingles in my body, and to the significant difference in myself from being around him compared to an hour ago. It settled enough of the chill inside of me to remind me of the warm possibilities.

That was all I wished for, right now. Us. Forever.

We leaned back once the reality set in. Even then, I felt my body urging me to seek out another entrance just to savor the perfectness.

Luke's hand stroked through my hair as he leaned forward. My body did the same without my mind, until our foreheads were against the others. Both skins were hot and flushed, and just that alone made the air around me turn pleasant, again.

His eyes said the words before he did. "I love you, Norris."

My heart nearly tore from my chest at him, and I knew I'd let it. I hadn't heard those words in weeks, fucking weeks, and it felt like I hadn't heard a single thing else ever since then.

They were the ones that mattered to me most. Him, my Luke and my soulmate, was all I cared about, right now.

I cupped his jaw in my hand, my sniffle soft as I kissed his cheek. "I love you—"

My words came to a halt as the air was rushed out of my body. It was moving before I even had time to stop it.

I landed on a soft, fluffy surface that I soon recognized as the mattress. I was so startled, I couldn't even make the realization until the sound of our lock on our door clicking shut did it for me.

Luke had pushed me back onto the bed to stop me from following him. It wasn't even enough to barely hurt, but it still knocked me back and caught me off guard. Then, he locked me inside of the room so that I couldn't leave.

This motherfucker.