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I always come back.
Pick me.
And I did. I was almost sick with the thick taste of guilt as I turned away from him and to the camera, where I voiced my choice.
I chose him.
“My heart isn’t made of gold. I choose him.”
Something clicked. The fine hairs on my body floated into the air, drifting from my body and the danger I faced.
Two men barreled into the room, the heavy door crashing into the concrete wall. They were dressed in black suits like they were fucking undertakers.
“Don’t,” I begged again, Mercer’s hand finally leaving me as he stood, his height rivaling theirs.
One moved in, and the other filled the doorway, preventing my hopes of escape. I didn’t move. The man in the doorway was taken from my view, Mercer’s legs replacing him. He stood in front of me...protecting me.
The man neared, a hood hiding everything but his eyes. Blood-red paint distorted every other feature.
A blade dropped between the invading man’s knuckles, cutting through the ropes holding my fears in place.
“Mercer!” No one heard more than a croak from my dry throat.
The man in black moved closer again, the light above dancing on his blade. He was almost on us.
“Mercer!”
Limbs moved quickly, a flurry of fast fists and knees flying around. Mercer tried his luck with a punch, knocking the man to the ground. He straddled him, sitting on his chest, when the sharp little blade dragged across his chest. My scream ripped into him, deeper than the knife, and feeling all the threats in the room, his feet pulled him back before real damage could be done.
He darted from the man to me, scooping me up and placing me in a corner. I didn’t want to let him go. My hands tried desperately to hold on to him as he eagerly tried to break away. Thin nails left dainty imprints on his skin where I tightly clutched him.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I reached for his hand, but he pulled back, using it to reach for the bigger knife.
“Ah, ah,” the robotic voice rang out as his hand covered the silver handle. “Don’t do that. You had your chance to use it earlier. You chose not to. If you use it now, Feebee will be punished, too.”
Mercer visually tensed, all his frustrations seeping out as his hand moved away from the blade. The rage stayed, and he vibrated with it.
“Good. Now, stand up, and like a good boy, walk to the fucking door, and they’ll leave with you. One more attempt at playing the hero, and I’ll show her just how little you can do to protect her.”
He looked back at me, his shoulders dropping, his pretty blue eyes glossed and apologetic.
I couldn’t beg him to stay. I understood why he had to go, but it still hurt, watching him stand tall, his back straightening. Watching each slow step as his sock-covered feet moved him to the door.
The man with the blade walked behind him, stopping as they approached the door. I didn’t protest when he stopped dead, his head turning before his body as he moved in my direction to retrieve the blade. If I could have, I would have kicked it to him, wanting him nowhere near me, but instead, I stayed still, stayed silent, in the corner with my legs tucked awkwardly.
He grinned at me on his exit, an unflattering smile revealing stained teeth. And then the door closed, and everything I felt rushed out, and I screamed.
I fucking screamed.
Chapter 5
Feebee
Mercer’s smell was still around me, rich and intoxicating. Manly, even with his power stripped. I pulled the lapels of his shirt to my nose and inhaled deeply.
My body weakened from carrying too many emotions. The hard wall held me up as I wrapped my arms around myself.
That darn clock ticked. Ticked. Ticked. And I went crazy.
