“Hello, Isabelle. You think you can get rid of me that easily? Look at what your boyfriend did to my face!”

His nose has a bandage over the bridge, clearly holding the broken bone together. His eyes are both bruised and blackened and his lip has a small cut in the corner. If I wasn’t so scared I would smile, finally Brandon has had a taste of his own medicine.

“Don’t think I don’t know who he is either, Isabelle. You talked about him enough for me to know exactly who he was when I opened the door. You think you can threaten me? Tell my father and the board about my little extra-curricular activities? I don’t think so, Isabelle. And if you know what’s good for you, you will call off the trashy animals sniffing around in my business. You got your papers signed, but hear me, you will always be mine. Call them off, now.” He looks raging mad, so close to my face that the spit from his whispered words hits my face. I have no idea what he is talking about. “Answer me, bitch, you will be telling them to leave me alone, you understand?” He forces out, again spraying me with his spit.

I claw at his hand trying to get him to loosen up his hold; I can feel my lungs burning, demanding oxygen. My nails are clawing his hands and wrist, trying desperately to get some air. My lack of being able to breathe must have missed the mark with Brandon, his rage blinding him from his actions. My vision is getting black around the edges but not before I see him pull his arm back and bring his fist racing forward, meeting my right eye with unbearable pain. My head hits the doorframe, sending another wave of stomach rolling pain shooting through my head. He releases my neck and throws me down onto the porch, standing over my body with his feet on either side of my stomach. He leans down and whispers in my ear, “I will be in touch, Isabelle, but you tell those motherfuckers to stop fucking coming around and asking questions. I did what your boyfriend said and signed those papers, but I don’t need those fucking papers to prove who you belong to. You fucking hear me, bitch? You are mine. I will fucking kill him if he touches you, got that? I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Isabelle.” He gets off another punch to my right eye, finally releasing the scream that was trapped moments ago. Then he’s gone. The amount of pain my body feels is the only think keeping me from thinking I just dreamt this whole thing.

I can feel them, from my position on the porch floor, running inside the house. The front door is pulled open and strong hands lift me up. I wince in pain when my back meets a solid arm.

“What the fuck!” Greg, I think, says from somewhere behind me.

“Oh my God, Izzy! She’s bleeding, oh my God!” Dee screeches from the same direction.

My vision is blurry, I can only make out that the person holding me is male. If it weren’t for the deep scent of leather and cinnamon, I wouldn’t have known it is Axel who held me so tenderly.

“Coop, Locke go fucking find that motherfucker before he gets away.” He grates out, his tone is lethal. “Someone call the god damn police, now! Princess, are you hurt anywhere else other than your head?”

“Neck.” Gasp. “Back.” Wheeze. “It was…Brandon…was here.” I can’t make out his expression, my right eye is throbbing and swollen shut; I can’t even open my left eye because the movement causes more excruciating pain to blast through my skull like lightening. Belatedly, I feel what must be warm blood running down the back of my neck.

The arms holding me go rock hard at the mention of Brandon. Not what he is expecting to hear. But then again, he wasn’t exactly planning on football Saturday turning into this mess.

“Here, hold this,” Greg says, playing something over the back of my head.

Axel adjusts his hold on me and stands from his crouched position on the porch, I can feel him walking into the house, through to the living room. I can hear the sounds of people moving around the room. Axel sits down on the couch but doesn’t release me.

“Sit up Princess; let’s take a look at your back, yeah?”

He helps me lean forward, making my stomach lurch and I feel warm hands moving up my shirt.

“Fuck!” Greg yells, “How the fuck did this happen? You’ve got welts all the way up your spine, Iz!”

I don’t answer, because really what’s the point, I think it’s pretty obvious how I got like this.

I can hear the sirens approaching, making me snuggle closer to the safety Axel’s strong arms are providing. Just when I think I am finally free, what a joke that was…I am beginning to think I won’t ever be free of Brandon’s reach.

Dee is directing the police officers and the paramedics into the living room; I can hear Greg off to the side somewhere talking in low tones with Maddox answering back. I can’t tell where anyone else is, and I’m in no hurry to open my eyes and check.

“Ma’am,” a new voice joins the group, “ma’am can you open your eyes?” Axel shifts and moves me away from his warmth, placing my body in a way that allows this person to start touching my face. Immediately, I draw back into his body.

“Shhh, Izzy, let them look at you.” His warm breath tickles my ear and his arm tightens around my shoulders, reminding me that he is there and I’m safe. His head turns from my ear and he addresses the new voice. “I don’t think she can open her eyes without pain. She tried a second after I reached her but they snapped shut quickly. Hasn’t opened since. Her breathing sounds raspy and her voice seemed hoarse when she was able to talk. Hasn’t spoken since. Her back has, what looks like, a welt like bruise from tailbone to shoulder blades. I haven’t been able to take a good look at it. Neck injury and the source of the blood is from the back of her head, again I haven’t taken a good look.” He must be speaking to the paramedic because when he finishes I feel soft gloved hands start pressing into my face, around my neck, and up my throat.

“Ma’am, I need to lean you forward a bit so that I can look over your back and head, slowly and let me know if you feel like your--” He doesn’t get a chance to finish before I empty the contents of my stomach all over the floor.

“Okay, that’s okay. Do you feel nauseous?”

“Y-yes.” I answer back, again not recognizing my own voice. I sound like I’ve spent the last few hours screaming.

“Did you hit your head?”

“No…yes,” I whisper my reply, “I don’t remember. I was pushed into door frame before he grabbed my neck, I don’t remember much after that.”

“That’s okay; let’s check you out right now, okay?” His soft hands spend a few minutes taking my blood pressure, then continue to press and poke around my tender skin, earning a few hisses of pain from me and growls from Axel. They have me lean forward again, moving my hair around to check out the source of the bleeding and then he checks my back. I can feel the torn skin on my back stretching and pulling tight with every small movement of my body.

“Sir, I can’t be sure without taking her to the hospital but I’m willing to bet on a concussion, the head wound definitely needs stitches, her back is troubling but again I can’t guarantee the damage done is only on the surface; that isn’t even counting her facial injuries. I would strongly advise a trip to the hospital.”

“That’s fine, but I’ll be driving her. I’m not letting her out of my sight.” Even I can tell by his tone that there will be no bending on this. The poor guy trying to do his job attempts to explain to him that I would be completely safe riding in the ambulance but there is no use. Axel and all his stubbornness have spoken and there will only be one way for me to get to the hospital tonight.

Begrudgingly, he stops his protest and asks Axel to sign off that no further treatment by the paramedics is preferred. He gets my head cleaned and applies some gauze to my back, telling Axel he needs to keep pressure on my head until I get to the hospital. I get a few ice packs and hold one to my right eye and the other to my sore neck. After he has done all he can, the paramedics take their leave.

I start nodding off shortly after, listening to the voices around me explain the events leading up to me crying out from the porch. I attempt to answer the questions the officers have for me but my drowsy and confused mind keeps pulling me under. Axel rouses me a few times and I am able to tell them who attacked me but after falling asleep again, I faintly hear Axel tell them to meet us at the hospital with any further questions. Despite his calm and strong tone, I can hear a small tremor of fear.

He adjusts me in his arms and begins to stand. I don’t hear much after him telling someone to get the truck and drive him to the hospital. I let the safety of his strong arms and the comforting scent that only comes with Axel, carry me off to the numbing blackness.

I wake up to the annoying sound of beeping and the nauseating smell of antiseptic and cleaner. Death, I’ve always thought the hospital smelled like death. It’s a smell you never forget, and one I have always hated.

I try to open my eyes but they don’t obey my commands. I try to open my mouth and demand answers but nothing comes out. It’s like my body has decided to play dead.

“The doctor says there are no internal injuries other than some bruising; a lot of old broken bones badly reset. Home job the best he can tell. I looked at the scans, Reid, it looked like she has had every rib in her body broken at one point. I would gladly kill that motherfucker if I got my hands on him.” Coop. I’ve never heard him sound so pissed. He’s usually the fun loving one of the group. “Took ten stitches to close up her head, nothing too bad and should be fine. Her neck is swollen; fucker must have had one hell of a firm grip on her. The biggest concern at this point is her concussion, and assessing her vision after she wakes up.”

The warm hand holding mine flexes and tightens a few times during my grocery list of injury review. Even with my eyes closed and my mind hazy, I can feel the energy in the room grow heavy. It feels alive, making the hairs on my arms and neck stand on end.

“He’s fucking dead, you hear me? I’ll kill that sick fuck myself.” He releases my hand and I feel it return, pushing the hair back behind my ear. “It guts me to know she lived like this for so many years. Knowing this wasn’t even close to the worst…slices me fucking deep.”

“I know, Reid.”

“Where’s Dee, Greg, both—either, I don’t care.” He must have his head turned because it’s hard to make out his question. I’m shocked that Dee isn’t already by my side.

“Beck made her go get something to eat, said she wouldn’t stop pacing and was shaking something crazy. Last I saw Greg, he was about to pop some hemorrhoids he was holding it in so tight. You sure there isn’t more there? They seem pretty tight.”

“Just friends.” He says. “Doesn’t matter, he isn’t touching her.”

His hand returns to mine and he brings his lips down for one small kiss to my hand. So tender and unlike the Axel I’ve been dealing with for the last month.

“I feel you. I’m going to step out and see what Locke found.”