Her scream pierces the night, and blood curdles in my veins with a kind of fear that rips me apart. It’s deafening, a kind of scream that shakes you to your core, and I’m sure a piece of me dies.
Desperation grips me tight, and I pull the trigger of my gun, the bullet slicing through the air with an ear-piercing crack, splitting through the fucker’s skull.
Air explodes from my lungs, my gun slipping from my hand as the other asshole slams his shoulder into my gut while his brother’s lifeless body falls to the ground. Twins. Identical. Both equally ugly motherfuckers. It’s an inside joke, I’m sure of it.
My stomach muscles scream as he plows his fist into me, punching me over and over again, but my determination to find her has already killed this bastard. He never had a fucking chance.
I slam my knee into his face, sending him stumbling back, and I snatch a stick off the ground, swing my arm, and jab it through his eye. His cries of pain are like music to my ears as I shove it farther and farther into his skull, warm blood spilling down my hand. If this were any other day, I’d light myself a cigarette and watch this fucker die slowly, but right now, there’s no time. Mirabella is out there, and her scream still rings in my ears.
I launch forward, pushing him back with all my strength, using momentum to slam his back into a broken branch that tears straight through him. When I step back, the fucker stays in place, attached to the tree with a bloodied, sharp-edged branch protruding from his stomach.
My gaze frantically searches the area around me, the sounds of my rapid breaths shattering through the silence, but it’s only a moment before I hear her scream again.
“Mira!” I shout. “Mira!”
I weave through the forest, my heartbeat hammering against my ribs. My feet pound across the dirty, snapping branches off the trees as I run. “Mira, where are you!”
Her tormented shrieks split the night. It’s filled with terror and desperation that makes my knees want to crumble beneath me.
“Mira!” I reach a clearing between the trees, and my hand tightens around my gun. The sound of shuffling draws my eye to a flash of white in the distance, and my feet can’t carry me fast enough as I run toward it, almost tripping over small stones and rocks scattered throughout.
The closer I get to the source of white, the clearer it becomes. Naked legs kicking, arms flailing, a large figure holding her down.
“Mira!” I yell and point my gun, but before I can shoot, the man stills then falls to the side, blood gushing from his severed throat. There’s a split second that my mind freezes, my thoughts silenced as I take in the scene, but her cries pull me back.
“Hummingbird.” I run over to her, her body wracking with vicious sobs, and all I want to do is take her in my arms. But when she sees me, she scurries backward, the fear in her eyes rupturing my soul into pieces.
“Mira, it’s me.”
“Stay away!” she cries, her hands, her face, everything covered in blood. Jesus Christ. Is that her blood? Dear God, tell me she’s not hurt.
I crouch in front of her and hear her teeth chattering as she shivers violently. Seeing her like this is unlike any pain I’ve ever experienced before.
“It’s me, baby girl. I’m here now. It’s okay.” I try to reach for her, but she flinches, and my heart fucking breaks.
“Baby, please. It’s me, Nicoli,” I say in earnest, desperate to touch her and make sure she’s unharmed, but she moves back more, her eyes wide and bewildered, as if she hardly recognizes me. “You’re safe.”
I slide my hand into my pocket and reveal the white ribbon in my palm. “Please, baby.”
A heavy frown settles around her tired eyes as she glances from the ribbon to me. “Li,” she whispers, and it’s both the most beautiful and pained sound I’ve ever heard in my entire goddamn life.
My heart constricts. “Yes, baby. It’s me.”
“Li?” Tears stream down her face, and she sits for a moment longer, watching me with dread until she slowly inches forward toward me. Her hand goes for the ribbon in my palm, and I’m doing everything I can not to grab her, to press her hard against me.
She fumbles with the ribbon, her eyes downcast and tearful, then takes the ribbon, slowly wrapping it around her ring finger. “Nicoli.”
“You’re safe, Hummingbird. You’re safe.”
She slides her hand up my shoulder, trembling as she clutches me, and buries her face in my neck as she starts to weep uncontrollably.
My arms encircle her shaking body. Everything hurts when she cries like this. It’s a flood of anguish that fills my soul, pain that drowns out everything else. It’s crippling, and I’ve never felt so weak in my life, helpless and wounded by her agony.
I pull back an inch, needing to see her, wanting to make sure she’s okay. But her nails claw into my shoulder as she pulls so tight as if she’s afraid this isn’t real.
“I’m here, baby girl,” I murmur, burying my fingers in her hair. I’ve never been a religious man. I’ve never given much thought to whether God is real or not. But now, while I’m holding my wife’s trembling body, listening to her cry, I choose to believe that there’s a higher power because I have to thank someone. I have to thank some…thing for bringing her back to me.
“It’s over,” I say and gently lift her in my arms, carrying her. “I’m taking you home.”
