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Book Two in the Darien Grace Chronicles
"I couldn't hear the music. I knew that it was pulsing all around me, I could feel it vibrate through the air, but I couldn't hear it. I hadn't been able to hear it for a while now. I ju...
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Caleb McKenney
"Caleb! ... Caleb!" I ignored the frantic shouting. I couldn't hear it, not past the pounding inside of my head and the pain radiating from my right hand. Truthfully, it was nothing, though. Not when it was compared to the ache resounding throughout my chest, growing with every day that passed. She'd ran. My Darien had ran. My baby girl... She'd ran and it had all been his fault.
I let my fist fly forward again and again, each time earning a sicking crunch from the battered man beneath me. He'd done this. He'd broken her. We'd all been so worried about my fucking job that we hadn't even for a second considered what would happen if something like this... Jesus!
My vision was red as I yanked his head up off of the pavement before slamming it down again. My hands were covered in his blood, but I didn't care. He'd taken her away from me. He'd taken my baby away from me, and I hadn't done a damn thing to stop it. I hadn't even seen it coming.
I'd just pulled him up again when arms wrapped around me and struggled to pull me off of his limp body. I'd trusted him with one of my most prized possessions, one of my children and he'd thrown that trust in my face without a thought. I didn't bother to look and see who had pulled me away before swinging blindly. I was far from done here. He'd stolen her from me. He deserved to hurt—to feel the same pain, but I knew that he couldn't. He would never understand a father's loss. He was too damn selfish. It was radiating throughout my entire being. it clouded my mind, and I couldn't escape the nightmares. I'd let Amelie down. I'd lost the child she'd trusted me with. Darien was missing. She'd been missing for over a week now. We'd tried to find her, but I knew better. If Darien didn't want to be found, she wouldn't be. She was too stubborn. We had tried the police—both in England and France. There were no help. Darien Grace was gone. She would remain that way until she was ready to come back to us. If she ever was. That thought tore at my heart.
A grunt sounded out as my swing met its mark. The grip pulling me away loosened, and I shook whoever the fuck it was off of me.
"You. Sick. Son. Of. A. Bitch." I screamed, my fist meeting flesh again and again between every word.
Arms wrapped around me once more, tightening their grip immediately, doing whatever they could to restrain my movements. I fought to break free, bringing my elbow forward before jamming it back into their chest. The grip loosened again, and I pushed them away.
"Dad, you're going to kill him!" I froze at the hysterical voice, my arm hovering in the air. Fractionally, a bit of the red clouding my vision began to fade. Shaking my head, I let my arm fly, my fist connecting with his bloodied face once more. Through the haze, I managed to note the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. He was still alive. Everything inside of me was urging me to finish the job. He'd hurt one of my own. He'd hurt her and she was gone. I should have known better. She'd already been through so much. What the fuck kind of father was I to her? I let her do whatever the hell she wanted. I should have been chasing these fuckers off with a shot gun. I should have embraced modern American parenting. I should have been more careful. I should have been better...
