Page 130 of Torn
“I want you to think about it anyway. It’s a big decision. And we still have a lot to get through. I just wanted you to know that’s what I want.”
I walk her to her car and watch her drive down the dark street, then go back to bed to wait for her to send me a text letting me know that she’s home. This is definitely a part of our relationship that’s driving me crazy because I don’t like her having to leave every night. I want us to be able to fall asleep together and stay together in the same bed until morning.
When it comes to her and what I want, my patience is getting thin. Now that we’re together, I want the freedom to be able to move the relationship forward as we want it to, and it’s getting harder and harder to have to wait and hide from everyone.
CHAPTER 30
Kenzi—age eighteen
Tor—age thirty-two
“Wait here.” He steps out of the truck and shuts the door before I can say anything. He saunters across the dirt parking lot to an old warehouse and bangs on a dented silver door with peeling paint. I’m not quite sure what we’re doing here, but I have a bad feeling.
Soon a man opens the door and they begin to talk. Tor is doing a lot of pointing to the other side of the warehouse, and he looks pissed.
Furious, actually.
The man is also getting visibly agitated, shaking his head and yelling. I can’t hear what they’re saying from where I’m parked, but it definitely doesn’t look friendly.
I sit in shocked silence when Tor grabs the man by the throat and literally drags him away from the door to around the side of the building, out of sight.
Shit.
My hand clutches the door handle till my knuckles hurt. I want to run out there and see what’s going on, but he told me to stay here in his most serious voice. It’s the voice he’s always used when he expects me to listen, no questions asked.
A few minutes go by and I breathe a sigh of relief when Tor appears from around the corner of the warehouse and is walking toward the truck holding something in his hands that looks like a burlap bag with a chain hanging off it. My blood chills as he gets closer and I realize he’s holding a small dog that isn’t supposed to be small. It’s severely malnourished.
I jump out of the truck as he nears and run over to him.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Get the door for me.”
I run to open the back door of his truck and quickly spread a blanket over the seat, and as he gently lays the dog on it, I notice the chain is deeply embedded into the dog’s neck, the flesh raw and ugly, oozing blood and yellow pus.
Bile rises in my throat and I cover my mouth. “Oh my God…”
“Fucking douchebag has had this dog chained to the back of his warehouse, with no food or water for who knows how the fuck long. The chain’s been wrapped around his neck for months slowly strangling him.”
“I think I’m going to be sick.”
He pulls me into his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Angel. I should have warned you about this one. Let’s go. We have to get him to the vet.”
We climb into the front seat and I can’t help but peer in the back seat as we pull out of the parking lot. The dog is so weak he can barely move, and his eyes are lifeless, glazed and defeated. Tears roll down my cheeks as I say a silent prayer for him. This is the worst abuse I’ve ever seen.
“I think he’ll be okay,” Tor says reassuringly, putting his hand on my leg. “I know it looks nasty as hell, but once they get the chain out and clean it up, get him on some antibiotics, and get some food and water into him, he’ll start to slowly recover.”
“You really think so? He looks bad, Tor. Really bad.”
“I know. But I think he’ll pull through. That fucking asshole was warned a year ago when he had another dog chained up back there that another rescue pulled.”
“What did you do to him?” I ask. He dragged the guy away by his throat and I didn’t see him come back.
His eyes shift up to check the rearview mirror, his jaw clenching. “You don’t want to know.”
“Tell me.”
“I cut the chain to free the dog and then wrapped that end around his fucking neck and left him there, chained to the ground like he had this poor dog.”