Ruthless Savior - Julia Sykes Page 0,46

me as though I was the most precious treasure in the world, and I melted into him, utterly intoxicated by the tenderness of this fierce, ruthless man. When he lowered his lips to mine, I welcomed him on a sigh, marveling at the complete contentment I found in his strong arms.

Chapter 15

Marisol

“Stay inside the bedroom!” My father’s voice cracked on the panicked command. His weather-beaten cheeks were pale, and the warm, molten chocolate tone of his eyes had been swallowed by the blackness of his dilated pupils.

Boom! The front door rattled on its hinges, and the wooden barrier that separated us seemed far too flimsy to withstand Gehovany’s assault.

“Marisol!” My abuser roared my name. “You think you can leave me? You belong to me!” His shoulder rammed into the door again, adding terrifying punctuation to his slurred declaration of ownership.

I’d seen him in drunken rages before, but nothing like this. I’d thought I could escape from his possessive cruelty, but he’d come for me. He wouldn’t let me go.

My little sister’s high-pitched squeal ripped my thundering heart in two. Despite the fact that I’d brought this monster to our door, Gabriela clung to me, her slight body shaking hard enough to make her teeth rattle.

A long, distressed wail exploded from my baby brother’s crib, and I cringed at the horrific cacophony. My mother lifted Mario in her arms, but her usual comforting crooning hitched on a sob.

I caught one final glimpse of my father grabbing his shotgun before he slammed the bedroom door, as though the extra impediment would keep be enough to Gehovany at bay.

“Leave my house!” Papá roared. Even through the door, the warning pump of the shotgun punched my gut harder than my abuser’s fist. “Leave my daughter alone!”

My pounding heart slammed against my ribcage hard enough to bruise.

Gabriela’s scream clashed with the splintering boom of our front door giving way.

Terror scrambled my brain, severing my connection with reality. I faded to nothing more than a helpless apparition, unable to do anything but watch the horrific events unfolding around me in slow motion.

My father’s harsh shout sounded just before the shotgun blast. My mother shoved past me with an anguished cry, pushing wailing Mario into my numb arms. She wrenched open the bedroom door, calling for my father.

Her back blocked my view of the living room, her bright yellow dress searing my retinas like a blinding sun.

A second blast rent the air, signaling another shot. My mother’s body jerked, even as she threw her arms wide to shield her children.

The impact of the shot tore through her chest hard enough to shove her toward me. She fell slowly, her body seeming to float down to the floorboards before hitting the ground with an awful, final thud.

I had one second to see the scene in the living room, but it seemed to stretch into an eternity.

Gehovany’s steely eyes were wide, and his tanned cheeks went waxy pale. The rage that’d driven his maddened assault seemed to melt from his muscles, and his arms dropped to his sides. The shotgun slipped from his limp fingers, clattering to the floor.

His jaw dropped, and he shook his head slowly. The shoulder-length, glossy hair that I’d loved so much swayed around his square jaw. His hands raised in an almost placating gesture, and he backed away. As soon as he reached the broken front door, he turned on his heel and sprinted off down the street, disappearing from the nightmare I was trapped in.

A low groan dragged my attention back inside the house. My father lay on the bright, patterned rug where I played with Mario every morning. His arm stuck out at an odd angle. It’d knocked down the colorful block tower I’d built with my baby brother only a few hours ago.

Blood trailed down his cheek in crimson rivulets, pouring from a gash that bisected his forehead. His mouth opened wide, and his hand extended toward my mother. The howl of a wounded animal reverberated through our house. It crushed in on my chest, shoving the air from my lungs.

“Mamá!” Gabriela’s wail shredded my insides, and my eyes moved to her as though drawn to a car crash; unable to avoid watching a horrific event unfold.

Her small hands clutched my mother’s shoulders, frail fingers digging into her dress as she shook her unresponsive body.

A colorful stain had blossomed on my mother’s yellow dress; deepest crimson at the center of her chest, blooming to bright red as its petals unfurled.

Our small,