Although I still couldn’t make sense of what was happening, I started to fit pieces together.
Lena and I had been followed for months, possibly longer. There was a part of me that sensed we never truly broke free from Providence like we believed.
The email address Julian had been using to send Lena emails was also the same address Natalie had used to send Max her resignation letter.
Abby had lied about her business and about being in a relationship with someone. She used the excuse of having a relationship to avoid Max’s advancesbut told Lena something different.
Together, none of these situations were connected. But separately they made up a series of untruths. Untruths that didn’t settle well with me.
I start to make my way back to the front of the building when my phone pings with a text. Water is splattered across the screen and my hands are still shaking with fear. It takes me several tries but finally on the fourth, it unlocks.
Lena: Hey, I’m inside helping Abby. Sorry I didn’t answer. The back door is unlocked.
Momentary relief drapes over me like a series of waves crashing onto the shore. I breathe out then hold my breath, tightening my chest until my lungs begin to burn from the lack of oxygen.
I don’t wait a second longer before tugging on the door and opening it. Everything fades to black. The door closes behind me, shutting out what little light was able to filter through. As soon as I step in, I can hear Abby and Lena’s voices toward the front. I walk slowly, unsure of what I’m walking into.
I place my hand against the old painted brick wall, steadying myself. The paint is chipped, bubbling out from the surface. My skin grates against it like sandpaper. When my eyes finally adjust to the darkness, I look down at my feet. Old newspapers and travel brochures are littered across the floor.
I look back up, turning my attention to the front of the store. From where I am, I can see the two dirt-covered windows that line the front of the building. Every now and then a dark shadow flashes across the window. I assume they’re the shadows of the occasional car driving down the street.
The open space of the building is eerily quiet.
Chills prickle the back of my neck and my heart hammers inside my rib cage.
Lena’s muffled cries reverberate, the sound pulling me down the hallway. I emerge from the end of the hallway to a scene I never thought I’d see in my lifetime.
Even though I’d heard Lena’s cries, she isn’t the first person I see when I step into the room.
To my left is a woman tied to a small chair. Her head is bent down, long black hair shielding her face. It isn’t until I see a black chef jacket with white stitching that I realize it’s Natalie. She doesn’t move and for a second I fear she might be dead.
Fuck.
My gaze shifts to my right. Lena is sitting in a small wooden chair, her arms tied behind her.
My stomach climbs into my throat. I want to vomit. I want to run over to Lena and save her, but my feet are made of lead, rooted against the musty old carpet beneath them.
Tears stain her cheeks in thick lines and when she sees me they widen, stricken with a fear I’ve only seen on her once before. The night Julian nearly beat me to death. My heart shatters into a million pieces.
“Logan,” she cries. My name falls out of her mouth distorted, cracking with every syllable.
“Lena.” I rush toward her but stop when I hear a loud clicking sound behind me.
“Not so fast.”
Lena’s eyes shift to whoever is standing behind me. I raise my hands up and slowly turn to see Abby standing at the end of the hallway. Her violet eyes are narrowed, staring straight down her arm to her hand. Her fingers are clenched around the handle of a gun.
It’s in this moment that I realize this is worse than the night I almost lost my life at the hands of Julian. This time I might lose Lena too.
Twenty-Eight
Lena
When I was a child, I feared my father. His rigid posture matched his rigid personality. He wore his narcissism like a badge of honor, for all the world to see.
After I left Julian, sometimes I would lay awake at night wondering if I stayed with Julian because he was similar to my father. Other times I wondered if there was a piece of my soul that was broken, unable to weed out the decent men from the psychotic ones.
Most of my childhood was spent striving to be the opposite of the woman my father wanted me to be. Maybe in some way, my choice to stay with Julian was my twisted way of appeasing my father, making up for the disappointment I had become to him over the years.
It wasn’t until I’d met Logan that my life changed. He sparked a fire in me I didn’t even know existed. I began to see how my relationship was never mine and Julian’s. It had always been Julian’s.
But when I wake up and a sharp pain jolts the side of my head, I remember the words Logan had said to me the moment he woke up in the hospital after nearly dying by Julian’s hands.
He cracked open his eyes and held my hand in his. His left eye was still swollen. Blue, purple, and yellow stained his once flawless skin. Numerous cuts were scattered across his face. Some were small and intricate; others were held together by a few small pieces of thread. I cried, tears streaming down my face. If it
