The lady in Red (REWRITTEN!)

Chapter 49

Fury, frustration, and a desire for terror. Three of the most destructive emotions. Despite my best efforts to understand him, all I saw in his eyes was the need to hurt me in some form of way. Will it always be this way with him? If he didn't get what he wanted, would he always snap, hurting me in the process? Wrapping my hand around his wrist that was holding my throat tight, I squeezed in surrender. He didn't even realize he was choking me. The lack of oxygen hurt my chest, and my lungs screamed at me. He was making me incredibly dizzy, and I was in desperate need of air to sustain myself. After digging my nails deep into his skin, I cried for him until he saw me crumbling.

As realization dawned in him, he let go of me immediately. In an attempt to breathe again, I slipped down the glass, coughed, and fought hard for air to enter my screaming lungs. I felt my body turn to ice from the intense pain. Silently, I looked up into his bloodshot eyes, and sobbed. There was a possibility that he could have killed me. Why? Why did he want to hurt me so badly? The number of people he killed didn't matter to me. I did not want to know how many lives he had destroyed to get what he wanted. Has he always been like this? Was he always such a ruthless killer? His eyes were filled with pain. He was clearly hurt by what he did. Despite his ruthlessness, this man battled his own demon inside, and he would not understand the pain he caused until it was too late. My mind went back to them when I saw him. I was reminded of people who had no boundaries when it came to hurting others.

Who was the worst? Was it just him or the whole army that destroyed me? He lied, stabbed me, and almost killed me today because I blocked his way. Because I missed him so much, I did the unthinkable so I could understand the situation. However, I was unaware of the potential consequences. It was the worst night of my life, and I mentally cursed myself for ever going behind his men's back to find him. It would have been better to be at that stupid party with Greta. If only I had been five drinks deep, I would have still been there.

Taking slow steps, I stepped closer to him until I was almost in his face. Neither of us said a word for a good minute. Neither of us made a move towards the other. Although we were both swept up in a whirlwind of emotions, it was only a matter of seconds before one of us broke. I was the first to break because the silence was unbearable.

"Is this what you want? To hurt me? To add my name to the fallen list?" I asked, my voice on the verge of cracking. The muscles beneath his shirt tensed as he clenched his jaw. A brief moment of clarity broke, and he reached out to me, but not quickly enough. I jerked back as if the touch of his hand were enough to burn me to ashes. He froze, stunned by my sudden movement.

"I would never intentionally hurt you, Catherine," he spoke, his demeanor softening. In this very moment alone, he appeared fragile. He appeared human.

"Has anyone ever hurt you before, Reece?" I countered, taking a step closer to him. His eyes flashed something unexpected at me, but I held my ground.

"Would anyone dare?"

"No?" I mocked and did the unthinkable because I had no care at this very moment. Using my free hand, I struck him hard in the cheek. The slap echoed through the room, and adrenaline surged through my body, grabbing hold of me. There was no stopping me. He appeared to be utterly stunned and remained immobile in his spot, but I saw the sight of his jaw tightening. As his eyes turned dangerously black, he slowly turned his head toward me, but I did not waver. He was painted as evil by the darkness. Demon-like eyes adorned his face.

"Catherine," he warned as his voice became deadly lethal. I laughed unexpectedly, and struck him again. My hand ached this time, but I fought back a wince. I just slapped Reece. Despite his dangerous nature, I just hit him—my boss, my savior, my everything.

"You're not so untouchable after all, are you?" I raised my hand to strike again, but he caught my hand in midair. The warm grip of his hand completely enveloped mine, but I was determined to fight him. I struggled to free my hand from his grasp, but he was much stronger than me. He tightened my grip to the point that my bones ached, but not nearly hard enough to break them. I laughed in his face out of despair.

"You think you can hurt me? You can never! They've already have broken me, Reece. They've already hurt me enough! So fuck you!" I glared, I seethed, and I fought hard to make him feel what he made me feel moments ago. Neither his strength nor his size mattered. Whatever ruthless behavior he showed towards me did not matter. There was no stopping for me. The anger erupted from nowhere, and I needed him to feel it. It was the first time I ever expressed my anger towards him, and I didn't care about the repercussions. Reality then struck me hard. With horror and a sense of loathing, I quaked. Whatever energy I had left to fight him had vaporized in thin air, and I stopped fighting him. As my high wore off, I went slack against him. Reece grasped me, laced his fingers roughly in my hair, and drew me towards him until our noses touched, and our breaths blended. My dizziness and fatigue made fighting him impossible, so I let him manhandle me.

"Are you done?" He asked, pulling my head back.

"I hate you," I whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks.

"No you don't," he mumbled against my lips.