Page 138 of Addicted

They nodded and went inside.

I walked through the warehouse and out to the parking lot. One of my cars was parked near the entrance. I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

My shoulder was throbbing and my whole body was exhausted, but I pushed through it. I needed to get home. Needed to be with Indie. I needed to hold her and make sure she was okay.

I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street.

The drive back to the estate was long, but I didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. I just kept driving.

Because there was only one place I needed to be, and that was by Indie’s side.

Chapter 28

Indie

The drive back to the estate felt like it took forever.

Kenzo didn’t say much, which I was grateful for. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Wasn’t in the mood to do anything but get home and crawl into bed.

My whole body ached. My neck was sore from where Wes had choked me. My face hurt from where he’d hit me and my wrists were raw from the rope, but the physical pain wasn’t even the worst part. It was the mental shit.

The fear that kept replaying in my head. The sound of the gunshot when Javion killed Troy. The blood that hit my skin. The feeling of being helpless, tied to that chair. The terror that I was gonna die. That my baby was gonna die.

I pressed my hand to my stomach, trying to reassure myself that everything was okay. That the baby was still there. Still safe. But I didn’t know for sure, and that scared the hell out of me.

When we finally pulled up to the estate, I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. The armed guards let us through the gate once they confirmed our identities. Kenzo drove through and parked near the front entrance.

He turned to look at me, his expression serious.

“You good, Indie?” he asked.

I nodded, even though I wasn’t.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it.

“Aight. Get some rest. Stone’ll be home soon.”

I climbed out of the car and walked to the front door. My legs felt heavy, like I was dragging weights with every step. When I got inside, the house was quiet. The lights were dimmed, and I could hear the faint hum of the air conditioning.

I walked upstairs slowly, my hand gripping the railing for support.

When I reached Ishmael’s room, I stopped and peeked inside. He was asleep. Completely knocked out, his mouth slightly open, one arm hanging off the side of the bed. He had no idea what had happened today.

No idea that I’d been kidnapped. No idea that I’d almost died. And I wanted to keep it that way. At least for now. I didn’t want him to worry. Didn’t want him to feel guilty. Because none of this was his fault.

I closed his door quietly and walked down the hall to the master bedroom.

Our bedroom. Mine and Stone’s.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind me. The room was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the windows.

I walked over to the bathroom and flipped on the light, squinting against the brightness.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. My hair was a mess, tangled and wild. My face was ashen, my eyes red and swollen from crying. The bruises on my neck were dark purple, finger-shaped marks that made my stomach turn. My split lip was swollen, a dried line of blood crusted at the corner of my mouth.

I looked like I’d been through hell. Because I had.