47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

Kayla

I stare at Benjamin Adams, too terrified to move. There's a million questions on my mind, but I start with the most pressing one. "W-where's Georgia? What did you do to her?" It doesn't seem like anyone else is here besides the two of us, but Adams has her phone.

"Pfft," he snorts, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't bother myself with white trash. I just paid some lowlife to steal her phone because I knew you'd come running when she called, like the stupid, pathetic bitch you are."

The relief I felt from the first part of his statement vanishes almost instantly. Panic takes over when Adams pulls a gun out of his hoodie pocket. He's not pointing it at me, but given the glint of madness in his eyes, that can change any second.

Time. I need to play for time, to stall. Ethan is coming, and he'll deal with this insane bastard. I just have to survive a few more minutes.

"Can we talk about this, Doctor Adams?" I say in the calmest and the most professional voice I can manage at the moment. It comes out as a desperate whimper. "I understand that you're angry and—"

"Angry?! I'm fucking livid, you stupid bitch!" he bellows. "You destroyed my entire life!"

Terrified by his outburst, I take an involuntary step back. Adams immediately points the gun at me. "No running, cunt. I'll shoot your fucking knee caps if you try to run. And if you're hoping that fuckbuddy of yours is coming to rescue you, think again. He's probably dead already."

"Dead?" I gasp. "What did you do to him?"

"Aww," Adams snickers. "You really like him, don't you? I should have let him come here and killed him in front of you. I thought you were just using him to hide from me. What's the deal with you two, anyway? I saw him stalk your house. I fucking saw him carry your unconscious fat ass out of your house in the middle of the night. I thought he kidnapped you and was going to rape and torture you before killing you. But here you are, kissing him like you're in love or something. What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bitch?"

My back hits the wall as I take a stumbling step back when he approaches me. The gun is in my face, the cold metal digging into my cheek.

"Are you into rape? That's what it is?" Adams snarls, his spittle landing on my face. "Will you enjoy it if I bury my dick in your ugly cunt? Will you moan and beg me for more? Or should I use my gun? Shove it inside you? Pull the trigger? I bet you'd love that. I bet you're one of those whores who get turned on by pain."

He grabs my throat, pinning me against the wall. The gun moves against my shoulder. "Let's test the theory, shall we? I'll shoot you and then check if you're wet."

Whimpering in terror, I try to squirm out of his grip, but he's too strong. But when I squeeze my fists, I realize—very belatedly—that I'm still holding the can of pepper spray in my hand.

Should I use it? Will it stop him? Or just make him more angry?

Since he's about to shoot me anyway, I raise my hand and press the plunger on the top of the can. Nothing happens.

What the fuck?

Adams frowns. "The fuck?" he mutters, his thoughts echoing mine.

It takes me a precious second to realize there's a safety on the fucking can and that I need to slide it to the side. When I do, the plunger finally works and the liquid squirts out of the can in a wide arc over Adams' head. Before I have a chance to aim the damned thing properly, he twists my wrist so painfully my fingers release the can.

"Fucking bitch!" My head snaps to the side, and sharp pain blooms on my cheek from his slap. He raises his hand again, this time balling it into a fist. I close my eyes, wincing in preparation for the hit, but it never comes.

"KAYLA!" Ethan's scream pierces the air. A gunshot follows, the noise deafening in the enclosed space.

"NO!" I shriek, shoving at Adams' chest. He stumbles back, releasing me, and I dart over to Ethan, crying out when I see the dark stain rapidly spreading over his abdomen. "No! Nonono. Ethan!"

He slides down onto his knees, one hand clutching his bleeding stomach. The other caresses my cheek, then pushes me away. "Run, Kayla," he rasps out.

Before his outrageous request even registers in my mind, Adams yanks on my hair. I scramble up, desperate to escape the blinding pain that feels like he's about to tear off my entire scalp. Then a fist lands in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

Dry heaving and gasping for air, I find myself on my knees, just a few feet away from Ethan. Before I can gather my bearings, something hard smashes into my temple. Stars explode in my vision, the world around me a twisting blur.

I'm on my back on the filthy floor, a heavy weight pinning me down. My struggle is weak, my mind unable to focus over the ringing and whirling. A wave of nausea hits me, and I retch again. What's happening?

Something is squeezing my throat. I can't breathe. I can't do anything.

"Stop it!" That's Ethan's voice, weak and trembling. "It's not her you want, it's me!"

The pressure on my throat eases ever so slightly, and I suck in a wheezing breath. I try to call Ethan's name, but all that comes out is a rasp.

"You?" Adams sneers. "I think not, Mr. Bennett. If you could just shut the fuck up and die quietly, that would be great."

Ethan coughs and groans. "Me. I was the one who put the cameras into that pretentious burrow you call a home. I was the one who made the video. I was the one to publish it. To show it to everyone. It was all me."

The weight lifts off my chest. "Are you fucking serious?! You?!" Adams stands between me and Ethan, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if uncertain which of us he wants to hurt first.

"Oh, yes," Ethan says, smirking. "I really enjoyed watching you lose everything: your son, your job, your friends. You're nothing now. What does that feel like?"

I whimper as Adams' attention switches to Ethan. What is Ethan doing? Why is he making the already unstable madman even angrier? Then Ethan's eyes briefly meet mine, and it all clicks into place. He's drawing Adams' attention so that I can run.

My head is pounding, my vision refusing to focus, rendering me nearly useless. Even in my prime, I would never be a match for Adams. And he has a gun. A gun that's currently aimed at Ethan.

I could run. I fucking should run. But I'm not going to.

I quickly consider my options, but the ever-spinning world around me doesn't offer many. Just one, really—the can of mace I so spectacularly failed to use. I really hope there's more pepper spray inside because if not, I'll write a terrible product review and post it everywhere. I'll probably be posting it from my grave, so they better have Wi-Fi there.

My stomach protests as I roll over. My head protests. My entire body protests.

I crawl several feet forward, cringing at the filthy floor. It should be the last thing to worry about, but the way my skin crawls is proving more difficult to ignore than my concussed brain or churning stomach.

I reach forward, my fingers touching the metal of the can. I have it!

A hand yanks on my ankle. "Just where do you think you're going, bitch?" Adams spits out. "Did you think you could run away from me?"

"N-no," I whimper, hiding the can in my hand. He hasn't noticed it. He thought I was just trying to crawl away. I still have a chance.

"Oh, yes, you did. It doesn't matter, though. You can never escape me!"

A pool of blood of alarming size surrounds Ethan, his hand dark red as he raises it. "Me," he rasps. "You want me. Not her."

Adams cackles. "How noble. Worry not, asshole. You'll bleed out soon enough. In the meantime, I'll have some fun with this meddling bitch. You might have posted the video, but she talked back to me. She dared to challenge me in my own hospital! ME!" He turns back to me, nearly frothing at the mouth. "Do you even know who I am? I own this fucking town! I can do whatever the fuck I want, and you just shut your fucking mouth and take it!"

Vertigo nearly overcomes me as I shake my head. "You don't own shit. You're just a fucking bully."

Pain flares in my side when he kicks me. Yeah, that one's on me. Should have kept my mouth shut.

Ethan's voice is quiet, but there's an icy edge to it as he whispers, "I'll kill you, you know that?"

Adams chuckles. "I'm sure you'd love to, but you won't. You're nothing but a small-town playboy pretending to be a detective to score with chicks."

"I've killed one hundred and seven people." Ethan's smile is haunting on his pale face, like a mask of death. "And you'll be one hundred and eighth."

Ethan's quiet admission makes Adams hesitate. He senses the truth in Ethan's words, but his bloodshot eyes stay fixed on me.

I shift the can of mace in my hand and flip the safety to the side. I just need Adams to come a little closer so I can be sure I'll hit him fair and square, and then—I actually have no idea what to do next. I could run, but I can't leave Ethan behind. I could—

My thoughts scatter when Adams aims his gun at me. I freeze, not even daring to breathe, certain that if I even flinch, he'll pull the trigger. I could still try to use the pepper spray, but that won't stop a bullet.

A siren wails in the distance.

"Game's over, cunt," Adams sneers. "I thought I'd have more time to toy with you, but I guess I'll just have to do it the fast way. Say your prayers."

I don't know any prayers. The closest I ever came to praying was calling out to god when Ethan was fucking me. Tears gather in my eyes as I watch Adam's finger move on the trigger. Is this how it will end?

A weak cry interrupts the moment. "Hey, Adams!" Ethan shouts, groaning in pain as he shifts his position. "Catch!"

The second Adams turns his head in Ethan's direction, Ethan flicks his hand. Something whizzes through the air and buries itself in Adams' eye with a wet schlunk . I catch a glimpse of something gold and red before it falls out and clatters on the floor.

A dart?

The sound that comes from Adams' mouth is inhuman, a howled shriek like from a rabid animal. He brings both his hands to his face, smearing the clear, gooey liquid streaming from his eyeball all over himself in the process.

"Run, Kayla!"

I'm sure Ethan meant to shout it, but he's so weak it's more of a hoarse whisper. I try to get up, but a sudden flare of vertigo sends me back onto the floor, so I crawl over to him instead. "Ethan!" The floor is slippery where he lies in the pool of blood, his eyes half-lidded. "Don't you dare to die on me, Ethan!" I threaten through my tears. What should I do? There's so much blood!

Adams' shrieks suddenly sound much louder as he staggers closer. He stumbles onto his knees and grabs my arm, his hand disgustingly sticky with whatever came out of his eye. He tries to tug me away from Ethan, but his grip is weaker than before.

Fortunately, he seems to have dropped his weapon. Unfortunately for him, I haven't dropped mine.

I raise the mace, my voice feral as I scream at him, "Just fucking DIE already, you filthy bastard!"

I empty the can point blank into his face, hitting both his functional and injured eye. The howl he lets out completely drowns out the noise of the sirens outside.

"POLICE!" someone shouts. "NOBODY MOVE!"

"Over here!" I call out, relieved beyond measure when uniformed figures holding weapons fill the room. "Please, help! Ethan needs an—an ambulance." My voice breaks as I turn back to Ethan and see that his eyes are closed. "NO!" This cannot be happening! "You're not dead. You're not dead!"

My screams turn into sobs as multiple hands pull me away from Ethan. Someone wraps a blanket around me, then lifts me up and carries me outside. My head spins, the red and blue blinking lights all around me stabbing holes in my brain. "Ethan," I whimper weakly, trying to squirm out of the man's hold. "Where's Ethan?"

"They're rushing him to surgery," the man responds. "You need to go to the hospital too, you…"

I stop listening.

Surgery. They wouldn't do surgery on a dead person, would they? That means Ethan isn't dead. He can't be dead. He just can't.