Page 77 of The Quiet After The Fall

He slams his fist against my cheek and I go down, my head slamming on the hardwood floor. Darkness creeps into my field of vision, threatening to pull me under, but his boot on my chest tugs me back.

I groan, trying to move, to stand…anything.

“Stay down,” he says, voice flat, like this is nothing to him, just another day on the job.

Pain blooms against my sternum, sharp enough to steal my breath again.

“You’ve been busy tonight, Knox.” He crouches, grabs a fistful of my shirt, and hauls me up just enough to look me in the eye. “Driving all over town. Making calls. Visiting your little girlfriend.”

My mouth’s full of blood. I spit it near his shoe instead of answering.

He laughs, short and cold, and drives another punch into my side that folds me in half. I hit the floor and stay there this time, arm curled around my ribs, gasping.

“This is a courtesy,” he says, straightening his jacket. “Next time, there won’t be a conversation.”

He steps over me and doesn’t look back. The door shuts and I finally register the pain. My ribs scream and blood fills my mouth as I try to breathe normally.

I flip onto my hands and knees and crawl until I reach the bed, pulling the blanket until I hear my phone thunk onto the floor. It takes three tries to unlock it, with my shaking hands and blood trickling into my eye.

I don’t bother trying to get up. Not yet. I lean against the bed and call the one person I promised myself I’d never go to, the one person who might be able to help me tonight. I barely recognize my voice when he picks up on the fourth ring.

“You woke me up. This better be good,” my father says, voice deeper from sleep.

“I need you to do something for me.” Every word is agony, my ribs screaming with each breath. “I need you to drive to Sawyer’s apartment right now. There might be someone watching her building. I can’t go…one of Moretti’s men just jumped me in my own bedroom. I can’t be seen anywhere near her tonight.”

There’s dead silence on the line.

“What did you do now?”

“Doesn’t matter.” I press a hand to my cheek, feel the wet warmth of blood coating my fingers. “I need you to go. Right now. Please.”

“What—”

“If you ever cared about me,” I grit out, “if any part of you meant it when you used to carry me on your shoulders, or take me to little league, or just be a goddamn father. Before everything…this shitstorm—Dad, you’ll get in the car right now.” I spit out more blood and go on. “Do it for Helen. Do it for Owen. He’d never forgive either of us if something happened to her and we just let it.”

The quiet stretches so long I’m sure he’s hung up.

“Text me the address,” he finally says, voice low and rough in a way I haven’t heard from him in years. “I’ll go. I’ll sit outside till I’m sure it’s clear.”

My chest shudders in relief. “Thank you.”

“Knox.” He stops me before I hang up. “This is the last time. Whatever this is between you and her…you end it. Tonight, tomorrow, I don’t care how. It’s not safe for her. It’s not safe for any of us. You understand me? Look what’s already happened.”

“Yeah.”

I don’t mean it. We both know that. But the lie will get him in the car, and right now that’s the only thing that matters.

I text him the address, then drag myself up onto the edge of the bed, ribs on fire, and press some tissues against my face to soak up the blood. I don’t want to scare Sawyer, but I have to call her. Let her know that this is real, that she needs to take the threat seriously.

My phone’s slick with blood when I click her number. She picks up right away, and I immediately hear the slur in her words.

“Knox? What’s the matter?”

“Listen to me.” I try to keep my voice even but fail miserably. “Not safe. Stay away from the windows, keep the door locked, and don’t open it for anyone but my father. He’s on his way.”

“Wait, what—your father? Knox, what happened, you sound⁠—”

“I’m fine. Just do what I asked, please.”