Strike ( Book 4: Stronger Series )

42. Distraction

It was a day later, and I still couldn't get the sound of Paolo's screams out of my head. Even with the deafening effects of the gunshots and explosions, the echoing capabilities of that vault did nothing to silence the screams that never ceased to end. I kept my headphones in constantly, the volume of my music drowning out all outside noise, anything I could do to keep myself distracted from those screams. But no matter how hard I tried to distract myself, there wasn't shit I could do about the images that just wouldn't go away.

What was worse was that after a while the screams started to morph into someone else's, and soon, all I could think about was Jason and the idea of him enduring something as horrific as that. And it was almost enough to make me regret encouraging him to fight back for me. Because there was a good chance he wouldn't survive. How would I live with myself if something happened to him? The thought made me sick, and I knew I wouldn't survive it. I'd probably just off myself right then and there. I'd rather die than live with that nightmare in my head. But ultimately, even if I told Jason to turn around and never think of me again, he would have just fought even harder, and not having any of the information I gave him would have put him at an even greater disadvantage. He'd be as good as dead at that point.

Fuck, I was going to drive myself crazy with worry now, wondering where Jason was, what he was doing, and if Darren was still keeping tabs on him. At least he didn't seem to notice my turmoil as I sat like petrified wood in my seat on the plane. He was busy making plans with Scott in the back where they wouldn't be disturbed. I was so pissed at him for making me watch Paolo's end, but based on what he'd said after, I didn't want to fight. For once, I preferred an attempt at just forgetting instead, which I was currently failing at miserably.

I couldn't tell what was more distressing – witnessing that or being attacked by a bunch of gunmen and fighting for my life. I decided I'd rather fight the gunmen. At least I could almost choose how they died. I felt traumatized all over again, paralyzed with disgust and horror. Yes, Paolo had assisted in my attempted kidnapping and the attempted murder of my dumb fuck babysitters, but holy shit – there had to be limits. I felt as if Darren had crossed some imaginary torture treaty line somewhere, but I knew in this world, he made the rules, and he could make them as gruesome as he wanted.

I'd barely said a word to him as we made our way back to his estate, but thankfully, he was too busy strategizing his revenge with Scott. He was still pissed at Clive and Owen – one for Clive getting injured and two because I'd been temporarily taken – but they were the most capable guards he had, and if it had been anyone else, we all might have been killed instead.

As I rode in the back seat of the car, my stomach clenched as we passed the gate to Darren's estate. We'd been away for nearly two weeks, and after everything that had happened, I didn't know how I was going to force myself to walk through that front door again.

Once the car pulled to a stop, Darren got out, and the guard who was sitting in the front passenger seat opened my door for me, giving me the silent boot. Keeping my groan to myself, I stepped out, which was as far as I got before Darren swept me up into his arms and began carrying me toward the door.

"What are you doing?"

"Carrying you across the threshold," he replied lightly as if my question was stupid.

"Seriously?" He still had marital traditions on his mind?

The smirk on his face told me he was serious as he walked through the opened front door and continued up the stairs.

"Okay, threshold has been breached. You can put me down now," I protested as I started to squirm.

"When I'm good and ready," Darren replied, clutching me tighter.