Page 31 of Run to Me
“Anything else I should know?”
“N-no… I’ve told you everything. Can I go now?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say with a grin.
“But… but you said! You said you’d let me go! I told you everything I know, man,” he wails, and I roll my eyes at the sheer fuckingaudacity of him as he struggles against the ropes binding him to the chair like he’s going to somehow get free and make a run for it.
Like that’s ever gonna happen.
“You put your motherfucking hands on my girl. You scared her. Hurt her. Threatened her. You don’t get to do that and still live.”
I nod my head to a couple of the guys standing in the corner of the empty room and they take their cue, cutting the ropes to free him before grabbing a forearm each and lifting him up to stand. They keep a firm hold on him as he struggles while whimpering like the little pussy he is.
Did Robyn whimper like that when he had his hands on her? Did she cry and beg? Did she have the same fear in her eyes that he currently has?
I won’t voice my questions. I don’t want this asshole thinking about my girl more than he already has.
Instead of speaking, I decide to complete this whole process in silence, losing my mask of indifference and letting my anger show.
His body trembles as I take a step toward him, he flinches as I raise my arm and take hold of his hand.
His face is already marred with bruises and dried blood from our little alteration earlier on, and if he thought that was painful then he’s got another thing coming.
Once his hand is in my grasp, I take my time bending his fingers and breaking each one before I move onto the next hand.
Breaking his fingers for daring to touch her with them. For leaving fucking bruises on her.
I stay silent the whole time, listening to his cries and rejoicing as his screams filter through the air.
Next, I pull a knife from my boot and cut his jacket and shirt from him, letting the fabric fall to the floor while he’s still being held up by my men.
I take hold of both of his wrists and twist, snapping both in one quick go.
I don’t even register his howl of pain; all I can hear is Izzy’s voice in my head from when she told me about the bruises she had seen on my angel.
Then my mind wanders to when Robyn gave me the details of that night.
“He shoved the door open, and I somehow ended up falling to my knees. They were a little bruised but it’s not too bad now. I’m fine, Enzo. You don’t know me; you don’t need to worry about me.”
Her voice echoes around inside my head and I give it a shake to bring myself back to the present.
I stare at the man in front of me. He’s finally given up fighting and instead is crying, begging me to let him go, promising that it’ll never happen again.
You’re damn fucking right it’ll never happen again. He’ll never get close enough to hurt her again. He’ll never lay eyes on her again.
I turn my eyes to the two men holding him and flick my gaze down to his feet.
Luckily, they’ve worked with me before and can understand what I’m trying to say without me needing to voice it.
They reposition themselves, still keeping a hold on each of his shoulders but placing their feet behind his so he can’t take a step back.
I drop the knife to the floor and make big show of stretching my limbs as though I’m about to run a fucking marathon before I bring my leg up and kick his left knee using every ounce of strength and anger I have. The feet behind him stop his legs from staggering backward and the force of my kick bends his knee backwards and breaks his kneecap. A crunch sounds and I bounce on my feet, fucking loving the pain I’m inflicting on him.
He cries out in agony and the sound is like music to my ears.
I repeat the same on the other leg and nod to my men to release him. He drops to the floor in a tangled heap as both men walk away and resume their stance in the corner of the room since I don’t need them anymore. It’s not like he can go anywhere.
His cries quieten, silent sobs taking their place as he lies face down on the floor.