I opened this new one to see that it was him asking me to text him again because he was worrying. The message had been sent while I was in the bath; it was almost eleven in the evening now. I opened up a new message and texted him back that I was fine and thanked him for the gift, just so he would relax.
After I sent it, I rolled over, trying to get comfortable. He didn’t text me back, so I assumed maybe he was asleep, or working nights, or maybe even that he just didn’t want to text me. The last thought hurt the worst.
Six agonising weeks had passed since I’d sent him away and, if anything, it only got worse. The dreams that I had every night were terrible. Every night I saw him die in front of me, and every night I would wake up screaming and sweating, with my heart trying to break out of my chest. Dean would look at me sympathetically, not knowing what to say or do. He was doing a good job of being near guard, living in the bedroom next door, but I preferred my own miserable company, so I hid in my bedroom most of the time, only coming out for school or meal times.
Ashton still called and texted me every day. He sent me a bunch of white roses every Friday morning with a little poem or limerick attached. He sent me music for my iPod, books, chocolates and stuffed animals. Every weekend I would get an emailed love letter, begging me to reconsider, telling me how lost he was without me.
I knew that he contacted Dean a lot too. Thankfully, I’d made a deal with Dean: he wouldn’t tell Ashton how much I missed him, and in return, I would behave and do everything he asked me to without question.
I was so incredibly tired every day. Once I’d had the nightmare of Ashton being killed, I refused to go back to sleep, so I had on average about four hours sleep a night. I went to the gym twice a day and threw myself back into my old training method of exercise until I dropped. I wanted to be able to protect myself if Carter did come after me. It was my hope that if he did, that this time I’d be able to kill him. Then I’d be free to beg Ashton to forgive me for pushing him away and ask him to give me another chance.
What with all the exercise I did and the fighting training I’d received, I thought I would be prepared for the day he would come for me again. Unfortunately, I was wrong.
Chapter Forty-Six
I was yanked from my sleep by a loud bang in the hallway outside our apartment. My heart leapt into my chest as Dean ran into my room and over to my bed. His hands closed around my upper arms so tightly that I was sure to have finger-shaped bruises there in a few hours. I squealed as he pulled me from the bed, shoving me against the wall. My mouth popped open, shocked at the abrupt wake up and the force he was using. Wordlessly, he grabbed the heavy reading chair from the corner of my room and dragged it over to me, placing it in front of me as he grabbed my hand and made us both duck down behind it.
“Dean, what’s-”
“Be quiet!” he interjected. My eyes widened as he pulled out his cell phone, frantically dialling someone. “Shit,” he hissed, before he tried another number. This one must have connected as he spoke words that sent a mortified chill down my spine. “Someone’s here. Get in here, now!”
Someone’s here…
That was when I heard gunshots. I screamed and quickly clamped a hand over my mouth. Dean dialled his phone again, his eyes and gun both trained on the door to my bedroom. “It’s Agent Michaels. The jewel’s in trouble, send more people, now!” he growled as he snapped the phone shut quickly.
I couldn’t breathe. Silent tears were falling down my face as Dean positioned himself between me and the door, with his gun pointed there ready. I heard more shots and then the bedroom door swung open quickly, slamming against the wall. Dean let off a couple of shots and the intruder immediately jumped back against the door frame, out of sight.
My breathing was coming out in pants as panic made my head swim. I tried my hardest to count my heartbeats so that I didn’t have a panic attack. I needed to remain in control in case we needed to run or get out quickly.
“Put your gun down!” the guy ordered from outside the door. I whimpered, and Dean shushed me again. “Put your gun down, and you won’t get hurt,” the guy tried again. A cold trickle seemed to run down my back. I recognised that voice, I couldn’t remember the guy’s name, but he had dark hair. He worked for Carter. “We have one of your agents. We don’t want to hurt him, but we will if we don’t get what we want. All we want is Anna,” he continued.
My blood ran cold in my veins. One of our agents? Oh God, please let us get out of this, please!
Hesitantly, Peter stepped into the doorway, looking terrified, his hands up in an ‘I surrender’ fashion. I immediately saw the reason for the pose. There was a gun to his head. His eyes found us immediately, his jaw tightened, and he seemed to be holding a silent conversation with Dean. I had no idea what the intense look on his face was; all I could see was panic and fear. The dark-haired guy stepped close behind him, using Peter’s body as a shield as they both stepped into the room. The gun pressed harder into Peter’s head, making him wince.
“Come on out, Anna,” the guy sang, his tone amused. “You don’t want him to get hurt now, do you?”
I didn’t know what to do. I was always told to stay behind the agent, keep quiet, don’t answer, stay small and alert and do as I was told. But that was Peter standing there. He was a friend of mine, and they had a gun to his head…
I whimpered, knowing that I couldn’t do as I was always told. I shifted and Dean clamped his hand around my wrist, holding me behind him tightly. “Please don’t hurt them, please!” I begged.
“Shh!” Dean ordered again.
The guy laughed quietly, sending a shiver down my spine as I recognised the laugh too, I definitely knew this guy. “I’m going to give you to the count of three to step away, Anna, or this one dies,” he instructed. I groaned, not knowing what to do. Dean’s grip tightened on my arm; it looked like he was trying to find a shot that wouldn’t hit Peter.
“One,” the guy called.
I shook my head. “Please don’t,” I begged. My heart was hammering in my chest.
“Two.”
I couldn’t let him hurt Peter, not because of me. Another person didn’t deserve to get hurt or killed because of me, I’d already gotten Jack killed, I couldn’t take another innocent life. I shoved off Dean’s hold and jumped out from behind him, holding my hands high. “Don’t hurt him, I’m here!” I cried desperately.
“No, Annabelle!” Dean shouted as he lunged for me again.
I saw the guy behind Peter smile as two others stepped through the doorway. I watched, seemingly in slow motion, as one raised a gun, pointing it in the direction of Dean. I realised too late what I’d done. I’d taken away his only leverage; with me out in the open, there was no reason for them to be lenient on him. The sound of the first gunshot echoed in my ears, it seemed to reverberate around the room, making my ears ring. I didn’t want to turn and look, but I couldn’t stop myself. I turned just in time to see Dean’s body slam back against the wall; the shot had hit him right in the face, leaving almost nothing recognisable behind. His blood stained the wall in an arc-shaped streak as his body slumped to the floor.
I heard screaming, and some part of my mind vaguely registered that it was me doing it, but I couldn’t stop. I fell to my knees and gripped my hands in my hair as I sobbed. Something moved near me, a kind of scuffle, I glanced up just in time for the second gunshot to go off. I whimpered and flinched as my heart broke. Peter’s eyes met mine for a second before he crumpled to the floor, clutching at his stomach as he groaned.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I whispered, my body hitching with sobs. He made a strangled gurgling sound in response. His pain-filled, frightened eyes locked on mine. Before I could reach out and help him, a shadow fell over us both and another gunshot rang out, followed by another and another. Each time a bullet hit him, Peter’s body jerked slightly; by the time the fourth shot came, he didn’t even flinch.
“Well hello, Anna. Long time no see.”
I registered the voice, but I couldn’t respond. I was so scared that I couldn’t move. My muscles seemed to be made of rock. I couldn’t take my eyes off Peter’s body. He was dead because of me, and so was Dean. This was entirely my fault. Maybe if I hadn’t stepped away then they would still be alive. I thanked God silently that Ashton wasn’t here; I couldn’t see him get hurt. I knew I had made the right choice sending him away.
A hand closed over my elbow, hauling me to my feet. I swayed, my legs almost not supporting my weight. The only thing that kept me upright was the vice-like grip on my arm. I looked up from Peter’s dead lifeless body, to see Jimmy, one of Carter’s men. I remembered him from Miami. Jimmy didn’t like the way that Carter treated me and would always try to help me when he could, which wasn’t very often.
“Hi, Anna,” he said quietly, looking at me almost apologetically.
“Hi, Jimmy,” I choked out. Internally, I desperately fought for control of my emotions. If I had to do this on my own then I needed to snap out of this. I’d grieve later, but right now I needed to focus on trying to get out of here. I took a few deep, calming breaths.
Jimmy smiled sadly and dragged me out into the lounge. I swiped at my face quickly, wiping away the tears, trying to stay strong. “Watch her while I get her some clothes,” Jimmy instructed as he left me in the lounge. I looked around desperately, expecting to see Carter, but he wasn’t there. Instead, there were eight of his men. I knew all of their faces but only a couple of names. These guys weren’t like Jimmy, they were mean and heartless.
“Well, well, well, haven’t you grown up nice,” one of them purred. His eyes raked over me slowly, and my skin crawled. I wrapped my arms around myself, wishing I’d put on more than boy shorts and a tank top to sleep in last night.
One of the other guys quickly stepped forwards and punched him in the jaw. “Don’t look at her like that! If Carter saw that, you’d be dead,” he growled angrily.