7. Chapter 7

7

I don't think I've ever run this fast in my life. My legs burn, my feet hit the concrete, and my heart pounds against my rib cage.

I want to look behind me. To see what Jace is doing.

But I can't.

He told me to run. So that's what I'm doing. Running like my life depends on it.

Because it does.

I don't want to think about that. The last time I put my life into someone else's hands— someone who was supposed to protect me—I almost didn't survive it.

I'm still barely hanging on.

Even Mom, how could she do that? How could she go behind my back? She knows what happened.

But she doesn't.

That little voice reminds me. I don't know why I couldn't tell them. I just couldn't. None of them would understand. I know Gabriel went through his own personal hell when he was growing up. I've heard the stories. He's told me some. They even said I could talk to Izel, Gabriel's sister. She was kidnapped and held against her will.

I can't speak.

I can't.

Something broke inside me. I'm not sure if it was when they cut off one of my toes. Or when Henry touched me.

No one heard my voice then. Now wouldn't make a difference.

So as much as I want to look behind me to see where Jace is and what he's doing. I don't. I run down the stairs, finding the exit door. I glance to the left and right as soon as I break through—nothing but an empty alleyway. How am I supposed to find a bathroom? There's nothing here. Absolutely nothing.

Biting my lip out of habit, I turn left just as another gunshot rings out.

I freeze.

The inner battle is to help Jace. I was taught how to fight, use knives, and guns. I was trained by my father, brother, my damn uncles and…Salem.

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

Before I know it, I'm turning around and running back up the stairs, taking two at a time. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I don't hear anything—no tires squealing, no guns.

Yanking the door open, I see dead bodies.

Five to be exact.

Growing up with the family that I have, burning flesh, bloody guys, and dead bodies don't phase me. Nothing bothers me, but I don't understand how one man could have killed this many people, not with his bare hands.

I don't even know how many people were after me. I also don't understand why Antonio wants me so much. I'm a mute girl with baggage.

A grunt pulls me out of my thoughts.

I snap my head to the right. A man stands there, his knees wobbling before I notice the knife that protrudes from his throat. He falls face first when my eyes move back up from the dead man lying there on the ground. Jace's eyes meet mine; his filled with relief and anger, and mine filled with worry. It's then I see three men dressed in tactical gear appearing behind Jace .

"Run!" Jace shouts, turning around towards them.

I freeze, unable to take my eyes off the madness in front of me. I'm drawn to watching Jace move around like second nature. It might as well be. He moves around fighting off three assailants like they're not the same size as him, or even close enough to the same size.

"Run, Blake," Jace shouts once more. I don't know why I'm not able to move my feet, why I'm fighting against my basic survival skills. I need to run, I never should've come back up here, but a small part of me was worried about him. Jace somehow wiggled his way into my head with him showing me the smallest amount of kindness.

Another grunt pulls me back, and a painful cry echoes around the parking garage. The urge to run toward him is strong, but the realization that I wouldn't stand a chance against any of them stops me. They'd kill me without a second thought—or kidnap me.

I retreat a step back, feeling foolish for coming up here. My heel bumps into something before I fall back. I know what I fell over, but that doesn't stop me from glancing over my shoulder. One of the men lies underneath me, blood coating my hands. My eyes drop down… crimson covers them…

I can feel their hands on me, the knives pressing against my skin. I can feel every little thing, even if my body feels numb. I can feel Gabriel rubbing his thumb against my shoulder, and it should bring me some sort of comfort but all I feel is pain. I can't stand to be touched anymore, but I can't stop him.

So, I silence myself. Shoving my fingers into my mouth, I hold them there. I know Gabriel wants to question, but I can't bring myself to speak. I can barely think.

Not when he pulls me into his lap, and not when he starts to hum low in his throat. Everything might as well be vacant. I don't want to breathe anymore; I want them to end it. But I can't beg because that's what they want.

I lay here, breathing slowly, my eyes trained on the door, waiting for them to come back.

Because this is my hell.

So, when they open the door, his evil smile peering down at us, I don't make a sound when he yanks my arm forward. I'm sure they pulled my shoulder from its socket.

"Let her go!" Gabriel yells. I should tell him it's not worth it. I'm not worth it. I'm not worth the fight or the beating he's going to receive. But the words don't form, the words don't come. And worst of all when I see his head roll to the side, I almost wish he was dead. Being dead means no more pain. It means peace.

"Damn, this was almost easy."

When I open my eyes, I'm staring right into a pair of bright blue eyes. The depth and warmth spreads through my chest into my heart. He stands next to two bodies…wait, where is the third? It's then I realize someone is standing next to me. So fucking stupid.

"Let her go," Jace's icy voice fills the stand-still silence between the two killers.

"No can do," the Italian voice comes from above me. I blink upward, finding Joe, the Italian's enforcer. I've met him a couple of times; he and Zane fought a few times when Zane would do underground fights. That was until Aunt Salem put a stop to it. "Come on, man, she's not worth it." Joe chuckles, knocking his foot against my leg. I flinch, expecting more kicks to follow, only his arm wraps around my neck pulling me to my feet. My eyes widen for a second, watching Jace breathing heavily, his eyes searching around finding something he could use against Joe. But there's nothing, there are no weapons. I close my eyes; this is how it ends. I knew I was going to die sooner rather than later.

"I promise," I hear moments before a gut-wrenching, searing pain explodes in my shoulder. The guy behind me screams into my ear, shoving me away. I fall forward, my hands barely catching me before I roll over. Jace stands next to me, holding onto his chest.

"I told you to let her go," Jace mutters right before he grabs the knife from the ground and plunges it into Joe's stomach over and over. Finally, he drops him like a sack of potatoes, crouching down beside me.

"I need to do something, and it's going to hurt," he warns, nodding towards my shoulder. I glance down, watching my blood seep into my sweatshirt .

Nodding, I grit my teeth waiting for the pain to start.

"Blake, I need you to take your sweatshirt off, I can't get to your tracker with it on. And I don't want to leave here with it still in your shoulder."

I can't look at him. Taking my sweatshirt off means he'll see my body, and no one has seen that since the hospital. I refused to wear anything but baggy clothes and sweatshirts since then. I'm afraid of what Jace will think. And I don't know why. I don't want to be nervous around him, but I am. I shouldn't care. But I do.

"If you don't feel comfortable taking it off, we need to at least get that arm out so I can fish the tracker out, Sunshine."

I bite my bottom lip. I know he needs to get it out, I can't believe that the thing is even in me. But at the idea of being vulnerable, bile rises in my throat, threatening to spill from my mouth. I hate Mom for putting it in me, and I hate Dad for putting me in this situation.

I should've died.

"Sunshine," Jace whispers.

Glancing up, I frown when I see the pain in his eyes. There's no reason for him to be sad, not for me. I'm a job to him and I'm acting like a lovesick teenager right now worried a man she's crushing on will think her body is ugly.

"You're safe with me," he says again, handing me the knife that he used to stab Joe. I shakily take it from him before he signs "promise." Butterflies swarm around my stomach, reminding me that besides Gabriel and Tobias, no one has been this dedicated to learning the way I speak until now.

Giving him a sharp nod, Jace grabs my sleeve and slowly removes part of the sweatshirt from my shoulder. Thankfully he can't see much of my damaged body due to the blood coating my skin.

"This is going to hurt," he warns, right before he shoves his fingers into my shoulder. A part of me wants to scream, but I don't. Not when the tears roll down my cheek. Instead, I bite my hand. I bite hard enough that I begin to bleed.

"Blake," Jace pulls me out of my head. "Bite my arm," he says .

Glancing down, he pulled his long sleeve up. I shake my head; I won't bite him just because I can't scream.

"I'm serious, I almost have it, but I won't just let you bite your hand. So, bite my arm."

I should fight him on this, but the look he gives me says he won't take no for an answer. So when he starts digging into my shoulder once more, I don't think twice before latching onto his arm and biting down. It's harder than I did to my hand, but Jace doesn't even flinch or stop working on my shoulder.

His blood coats my mouth and against my will, I feel myself getting slick between my thighs. I'm ashamed and hate myself for it. After everything I've been through, I shouldn't be getting turned on by this pain, especially not from inflicting it on Jace. But I do.

Thankfully, it's not much longer before Jace pulls a small piece of metal from my shoulder. "Fuck," he grunts.

Pulling back, he yanks his shirt off, holding it against my shoulder. I feel my head beginning to grow dizzy, and my vision blurs.

"We need to get going," he rushes out. I glance down at the bloodbath around us. Eight bodies lie around, blood coating the concrete.

And for the first time, I find myself wanting to laugh. Not sure if it was due to the number of bodies lying around us or because I once again found myself in the middle of blood and mayhem. Only this time, I'm slightly glad Jace is here with me. The one who kept his promise and protected me from harm. My shoulder screams in protest, or at least very little harm.

Jace helps me to my feet before wrapping his arm around my waist and practically carrying me as he searches for another car to steal, I assume. Keeping my eyes down on the ground, it does nothing to stop the thoughts of how he feels against my side. Here I am hating physical touch yet craving his like a moth to a flame. How fucking cliche. Why does the one person who was sent here on a job, someone ordered to protect me, bring the neediness out in me? I don't want to need him.

"Come on," he says, leaning me against a car. "Stay here. "

I shake my head. I couldn't go anywhere, even if I wanted to. I wouldn't make it two feet before Jace would find me face flat on the ground. Glancing up, my eyes trace the blood spot trailing from where we were to where I'm currently standing.

That's a lot of blood.

"Blake?"

I slowly raise my head, and Jace frowns at me. I can't move my hands to sign, not with my shoulder, so I try to convey what I want to say. Though I probably just look like I'm constipated. Definitely not a look someone wants to have when they think their bodyguard is hot. Thankfully, I don't speak, because old me would have said that out loud.

"Fuck," he mutters. I'm not sure why, but with the way he rushes forward and tries to move me into the passenger seat, I must not be looking too good. "We're going to fix you up, it'll be okay," Jace mumbles. I'm not sure if he's trying to convince himself or me. If I could sign and he'd understand, I'd tell him to just leave me here. I'd probably just bleed out or let the crows eat me alive.

My eyes grow heavy the moment he gets inside and pulls away. Something about being around him and in a moving vehicle has me calm enough that I'm getting sleepy. Or the fact he was just digging in my shoulder, and I might actually bleed out.

"Blake," Jace calls. "I need you to stay awake, baby, stay awake for me."

I blink them open, not realizing I had closed them. I haven't felt this tired, not in a long time. Not since I was taken. Sure, I've been tired. Sleeping becomes hard when they do certain things to you. But this is different.

My body is close to giving up. And I find some sort of peace in that.

"Blake, I swear to God, stay awake."

I almost chuckle. If I die, he will have to answer to my family and he won't get paid. Of course, he's freaking out. I wouldn't get on my father's or brother's bad side if I were him either. But that doesn't stop others from doing it. Most of them that is .

The car jerks to a stop, and my eyes snap open. Well, shit. I must have closed them again. The car sits in darkness, with not a single light. For a moment I think Jace has left me until he starts speaking.

"You don't listen very well," he hisses before the car starts moving once more.

I go to shrug, only to stop the moment pain radiates its way down to my fingers.

"I suggest not moving your shoulder or moving much in general. I'm not a doctor but I believe that it could cause more damage if you do. But I also could be talking a load of shit. I've stitched plenty of people up in the military. Even myself. I mean, you stabbed me, and I had to stitch that up." Jace sighs, glancing over at me.

I roll my eyes causing him to chuckle. "Listen, I was just making sure you were still awake, and if that means I talk and tell stories about the time I was in the military, well, I guess that's what I'm going to do. I'm also decent at annoying others. Should ask my good pal, Ryker. He thinks I'm the most annoying bug on this planet. Granted, he thinks everything is annoying, but I'm the least."

I tune Jace out. I know he's trying to keep me awake. He's been nothing but kind, and for the most part, caring. Aside from the few hiccups we had, he's spent most of the last twenty-four hours saving me.

So even if I wanted to tell him to shut up and shove a stick up his ass like most men that bother me, I don't do anything. I pretend to listen, trying to at least nod my head to what he says.

"Blake?"

I jerk forward, and my heart races as I drag the knife from my pocket. I don't think or look before I stab whatever is near me. The pain in my shoulder is the only thing that reminds me of what happened and to who…

My eyes snap up to Jace, pain radiating off me. I look down to where my hand is still gripping the knife… firmly in his thigh. I go to yank the blade out when Jace grabs my wrist, bringing another round of panic through my veins.

"We talked about this, but apparently, I need to stress it even more. Stop stabbing me," Jace grits out. "I'm not going to touch you or hurt you. So, stop fucking stabbing me." He glances up at me. "Please. "

I smile at him saying please. I never thought I would see a Viking man, a hired hitman, my bodyguard, use that word. It makes my stomach flip and my heart race in a way I don't want it to.

"Wonderful, now we're also going to talk about the fact that you can't just pull a knife out, not if you want them to survive." Holding a finger up he stops me from saying something. "Don't pull the said weapon out. Not if you're not prepared to start working on them to stop the bleeding. Second, we're going to talk about how you had that on you, and you didn't use it when the guy had his arm wrapped around yo—" Jace is cut off when someone pounds on the door.

My hand jerks the knife once more, forgetting what he had just said. I know it's logical not to remove it. Jace would bleed out. And I would not survive without him. The sudden realization hits me. The moment I stepped outside my parents' house, I placed my life in his hands.

"Blake," Jace warns.

I nod my head, and remove my hand from the knife, feeling naked. Jace opens the door, stepping out. I want to crawl after him, but I don't. I keep myself planted exactly where I'm at, fighting the need to be near him. It's getting ridiculous, the feelings for him that are growing inside me.

I can't see much outside, between it being dark and I'm pretty sure the windows are tinted. It grows on my nerves the longer Jace stands outside. Mind the fact my shoulder is burning, and I'm bleeding all over this poor soul's car. Though I doubt they would ever get it back.

The passenger side door swings open, and I snap my head over, ready to claw out the eyes of whoever it is until I realize it is Jace. I release a sigh of relief.

"Come on, a friend is going to help take care of that shoulder and my leg," he mutters while holding a hand out. Cocking my head, I bite my inner cheek. Hating that one minute I'm okay with him touching me and then the next it feels like my skin is going to melt off my bones.

"Blake, as much as I would love to be outside the car door, on my knees begging you to trust me, my leg hurts, I'm hungry, tired, and in desperate need of a shower. So this is as good as it's going to get. Take my hand, and let me help you inside this nice woman's house. She's going to stitch that shoulder up. "

Jace hasn't hurt me, but I still fear for the moment he does. And I hate that I feel that way. That I wait for the moment he snaps and hurts me. He's been caring in his own way, and I doubt my father would place my life into someone's hands that would hurt me again. But the memories are there, and they never stop.

Swallowing my fear, I take his hand and let him pull me out. I don't miss the wince or the pain in his eyes as he leads me towards a small house. The outside sits in pitch darkness except for a small light next to the door. Jace leads me inside, and I'm hit with the aroma of warm, baked chocolate chip cookies perfuming the air. We step into a small living room, connected to an even smaller kitchen. The lights are dim but comfortable. The cabin is messy, but it feels homey with the place being littered with plants.

"Let me go get the medical stuff," the woman mutters before rushing off behind the door to the left.

It crosses my mind that Jace has yet to let go of my hand and the fact I don't mind the touch of his rough calluses against my skin. His hands may not feel soft, but this is the nicest someone has touched me and I'm not sure how to handle it.

"Who am I stitching up first?" the girl asks the moment she steps back into the room.

"Her," Jace says with no hesitation. I frown down at his thigh, watching his light-colored jeans become soaked in his blood. Nope, I shouldn't be the one going first. Jace is going to bleed out right here now.

I shake my head, trying to drop my hand from his. Only Jace doesn't allow that. He tightens his grip and nods his head towards me.

"She goes first, I can do my own," he says, leading me towards the kitchen. He pushes me into the chair at the tiny dining table. Glaring up at him, I use my right hand to flip him off. At least he'll understand that.

Jace only smirks, which makes me even more irritated. How dare he just stand there with my knife in his leg and demand my shoulder be fixed first. I've stopped bleeding for the most part, and I don't mind the pain so much anymore.

"Come on, Jacey. Move," the girl mumbles.

Excuse me?

I snap my head towards the girl, the blonde, who stands off to the side with some medical bag over her shoulder. I have no reason to be jealous of her calling him Jacey. He's not mine. But fuck, does it hurt that she can speak and call him pet names.

"Stitch her shoulder so she can shower," Jace says, backing away. I watch him head towards the room she had disappeared into.

He's leaving me.

He's dropping me off with this girl and leaving.

Why is he leaving?

Am I too much?

My breathing picks up and I can feel my heart race. Sucking my lip in between my teeth, I can't think straight. Why is he leaving me?

"Hey, Jace?" Blondie calls. Her voice grinds a certain nerve inside me.

"What's wrong?"

"I think you should uh, stay in here?"

"Why?" His voice brings some sort of calmness. I can breathe a little better, and my skin no longer feels like it's going to melt off my bones.

"She's either going to murder me or you, and since I'm the one who has to be near her right now, I'm guessing she's going to stab me."

She's not wrong. If I had something on me, I'd probably stab her. First, because she called him some stupid pet name, and second, because if she thinks she can just touch me, well she better think again. No one can touch me.

No one.

Except Jace.

His touch isn't so bad.

"Blake?" Jace suddenly fills my vision.

Tilting my head to the side, I wait for him to continue.

"You're freaking out," he says. Jace seems to know me better than those whom I call family. Besides Gabriel, Jace is the only one who's noticed when I panic in silence. "Tap once if it's because I was leaving or twice because she was going to touch you. "

Reaching forward, I place my palm against his chest.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Jace frowns, looking down at my hand. I go to lift my hand, maybe he doesn't like being touched either. This was the first time I initiated touch and now that I think about it, I might have messed up. Jace slams his hand over mine, our gazes meet, and I nearly melt on the spot. He has got to stop doing that or I'm truly going to place my trust in him.

And when he breaks my heart, it's going really break.

"I… I'm not sure…" he trails off, searching my eyes for the answer. I hate this communication. "It's both," he finally says.

Slowly blinking, I give him a smile and a nod. Maybe it wasn't so bad, it just took a little longer for him to understand me.

"I'm not going anywhere; you know that right?"

Do I?

I would like to think I know this, but I'm not entirely sure I do. I've trusted those sworn to protect me before and got bitten in the ass.

"Blake, you look at me right now." Gripping my chin, he forces me to look at him. I can feel the blonde's gaze on us, and I can't say I don't mind it. "I'm not going anywhere; I'm not leaving you."

I try to nod, not fully convinced, but needing to be done with this conversation.

"I'm not having that. You don't trust me, but I will gain it. You will trust me; you will learn that when I say something, I mean it. So here I am, telling you, I'm not leaving you, not now and not later on. Now, my friend over there, her name is Luna, she's a good person, and I promise on my life that she won't hurt you." He never once glances away. "She won't, and if for some reason she tries to, I'll snap her neck."

I'm not sure who was more shocked by his words, her or me. While the blonde, Luna, gasps, I find myself smiling at his words. Knowing that he would kill his friend if she were to hurt me.

Promise, I sign.

Promise, he signs back.