Blythe's POV
Pain radiated through my chest as I shimmied my body until I was lying on my back on the scratchy bed, with my legs toward the bedside table. My right hand awkwardly trailed behind me, attaching me to the headboard. I stretched my left leg, ignoring the piercing ache that zapped through me, and used my toes to grasp the phone cord. Slowly, I dragged the phone toward me, but the odd position sent a cramp racing through my toes and up my leg. I yelped and involuntarily tucked my leg into my chest to alleviate the cramp, only to jostle my broken arm. A whimper escaped my mouth, but I refused to allow the pain to overtake me.
As the cramp subsided, I focused on my breathing and decided to try again. I repeated my earlier movements, and began to tug the bulky phone toward the bed. When it was far enough over the edge of the table, the phone began to tumble to the floor. I shoved my right leg forward, catching the base of the phone on the top of my foot, while curling the foot that still held the cord over the top of the phone.
I bent my knees and pulled my feet toward me. Once my feet were over the mattress, I released the phone and felt it gently bounce on the stiff, red comforter. A mixture of anguish and relief flooded me at once, overwhelming my senses and causing my eyes to overflow with tears. Anguish from the sudden pain my body could no longer deny. Relief from the close proximity of the phone to my hand. I lay frozen for several minutes, hyperventilating as I tearfully waited for the sharp throbbing to steadily subside. Gradually, my breathing returned to normal, and a dull ache replaced the intense hurt caused by my acrobatics.
I slid my free hand sluggishly down the bed, wincing as each movement sent a harsh wave of pain through my forearm. I gripped the curly cord at my hip between my fingers and tugged the cord, gradually drawing the phone more closely, one small jerk at a time. I bit my lip, drawing blood, as I tried to ignore the jolt of agony that I felt with each movement.
When the phone base was within reach of my fingers, I grinned, thankful that Luca had made me memorize that blasted phone number. I lifted the receiver and set it on the bed as I began to dial. I allowed myself to whimper for only a moment before I deliberately pressed each number to Luca's burner phone. Once I pressed the final number, I grabbed the receiver again with my free hand and lifted it to my ear, tucking it between my cheek and shoulder, and cradling my wounded arm to my belly.
Seconds ticked by in slow motion as I listened to the ringing of the phone. I hoped he still had it. For all I knew, it was damaged or lost at the warehouse. As the third ring began, Luca's deep voice answered abruptly.
"Morelli."
A sob escaped my mouth, as I said his name.
"Blythe?! Where are you? Are you okay?"
His voice was panicked, but it still caused a peaceful feeling to spread throughout my body as I felt hope grow in my heart.
"I'm at some hotel," I answered, trying not to let my voice crack with emotion. "It's called the Camelot or something." I closed my eyes and felt a warm tear trickle down my face. I pressed my face to the pillow beside me and relished the sound of Luca's voice.
"What phone are you calling from?" he asked tensely. I could hear Natalie talking to him in the background.
"It's the one from the room," I stated as I pulled the base closer, groaning as I lifted myself to look at the phone more closely. "Luca, it has an address on it," I spoke weakly, my arm now throbbing terribly.
"Give it to me, sweetheart. I'm coming to get you."
My heart swelled as I recited the address and phone number. "It says we're in room 204."
Luca turned from the phone and began talking to Natalie, but I couldn't make out what was said. After several seconds, he returned to the phone.
"Natalie's pulling up the address right now," he told me. "Did you get away from Mikey?" he demanded urgently. "Are you safe?"
"He's got me handcuffed to the bed, but he left a half hour ago. I don't know when he'll be back." I stared at the door Mikey had exited, and I prayed silently that it would be a while before he returned.
"Dammit. You're like four hours away," he growled.
I listened to his ragged breathing for a moment before the beeping of an open car door crossed the line. The low hum of an engine coming to life was almost too quiet for me to make out, but I felt tension leave my body when I grasped that Luca was already on the road to me.
"Farrah called Walker," Luca informed me softly. "We picked her up and I've already seen to her. She's tired, but in good shape."
"She's okay?" I whispered, tucking my chin as I tried to wedge the phone more securely between my head and shoulder.
"Yeah, sweetie. And your parents should be arriving at WITSEC any minute."
My stomach twisted uncomfortably, and bile burned my throat. "Did they...did anyone hurt her?" My tone was fearful, as I had been imagining worst case scenarios all day.
"No, Blythe. They scared her a little, but no one touched her," he answered comfortingly, pausing for a moment before clarifying. "...in ANY way."
I sighed with relief, and the tightness in my chest began to dissipate.
"Blythe," Luca began, "you shouldn't stay on the phone any longer. If Michael comes back, there's no telling what he'll do."
I could hear the wistful sadness in Luca's voice, but I knew he was right.
"We're breaking every traffic law to get to you. We'll probably make it in three hours instead of four with Natalie driving."
Another tear escaped my eye. "Be safe," I murmured.
"We will, baby," Luca promised warmly. "And Blythe?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you," he murmured softly before disconnecting the call.
Stunned, I kept the phone attached to my ear until I heard the familiar dial tone. Tears flooded my eyes, and the hope that had been progressively blossoming since Michael left the room was now filling my heart to overflowing. No matter what happened, I knew that Luca would come for me, and he wouldn't rest until he found me. My heart skipped a beat when I recalled his words. He loved me. How was that even possible?
As the dial tone continued to blare in my ears, my senses returned to me. I knew there was no way I could get the phone back to its position on the bedside table, so I did the next best thing. I placed the receiver back onto the base of the phone, and using my feet, I shoved the entire device to the floor, cords and all.
After that, I reclined on the bed, tucking my aching arm to my stomach, and stared at the dirty ceiling. I was tired, but knowing that Luca was on his way to rescue me had adrenalin pumping through my veins. After letting my thoughts wander for a while, though, the untapped energy began to fade, and I slowly succumbed to the enticing call of sleep. In sleep, I wouldn't feel the pain of my bruises and broken bones. In sleep, I could dream of my family and friends. In sleep, I could imagine a wonderful future with a handsome, dark-haired detective. Unfortunately, sleep didn't last as long as I would have liked, and I was woken abruptly by the loud and angry bellowing of the last person I wanted to see.
"What the hell is this?!?!"
I groaned at the annoying sound of Michael's voice, and slowly blinked my eyes. The room had grown darker, and a glance at the clock told me I had slept for at least two hours. My heart began pounding, and I hoped I could deal with Michael until Luca arrived. Suddenly, Michael grabbed me by my hair and lifted me to a sitting position. I cried out when my ribs protested painfully and raised my eyes to see Michael's hard stare. His jaw was tense, and the taut muscles of his forearms twitched.
"Why the fuck is the phone on the floor?" he growled. "Did you try to call that asshole detective of yours?"
"I tried to get the phone," I answered honestly, staring into his eyes. My voice wobbled fearfully as I continued. "But it fell on the floor and I couldn't reach it." I knew he would still be pissed, but I hoped he believed my lie, because if he knew I talked to Luca, I wouldn't just be hurt. I'd be dead.
"You bitch!" he yelled, slapping me across my uninjured cheek. My neck snapped to the side, and I bit my lip to keep the stinging tears from escaping. I felt his fingers tightly grab my chin as he forced me to face him. Michael's eyes were blazing as he leaned forward, his nose touching mine. He still reeked of sweat and cigarettes. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, but I knew he wasn't wasted. It was obvious he had all his faculties, but I couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.
"I told you that you were mine," he whispered ominously. "That mother fucker will be dead soon enough, and you need to get it through your thick skull."
Releasing my chin, Michael stood and walked towards the bathroom. He stared at the sink for a moment, and I saw him gradually relax. When he turned to face me, his expression was predatory, but his tone was silky and seductive. He slid off his shoes and smirked at me.
"I guess I'll have to remind you," he spoke softly. I stared in dread as he lifted his hand and loosened his tie. His eyes looked dark and hungry, and he licked his lower lip. Deliberately, he unbuttoned each button of his expensive dress shirt and removed it. His muscles rippled as he set the shirt on the back of the desk chair. He reached over the back of his head and grabbed the back of his undershirt, pulling it over his head. Then he grinned wickedly and stalked to the foot of the bed.
I shivered as he climbed the mattress, his body heat caressing my cool skin. I was still exposed, as Michael had left me all day in only my blush colored panties and bra, and I glared at him while he scanned my body lustfully. When he was done staring at me, he glanced at my handcuffed wrist and paused. Reaching forward, he retrieved a key from his pocket, and unlocked the cuff. He pulled my wrist to his stomach and began to massage it gently with his fingers.
"I want both your hands on me," he murmured before pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist.
"The only way my hands will ever be on you is if I'm scratching your fucking eyes out," I hissed as I yanked my good arm from his grasp and aimed my nails at his face.
"Shit!" Michael shouted as I broke the skin of his cheek. Three long, wet, red lines trailed his face, and drops of blood stained the already disgusting bedcover.
As I began to slap and kick and claw, Michael dug his knee into my wounded belly and grabbed both flailing wrists. He jerked both wrists into one hand and yanked them above my head, pressing them to the bed and leaning over me.
"You're going to regret that," he whispered.
"I'll never regret fighting you," I sneered meeting his eyes with a lethal gaze.
"Guess we have to do this the hard way," he muttered under his breath. He moved his legs to straddle my stomach, rendering my legs useless in the battle I was waging. With his free hand, he reached behind my back and unhooked my bra. Ignoring the now excruciating pain of my ribs and arm, I continued to writhe underneath him, but Michael seemed to find my weak efforts amusing. He shifted my arms and deftly removed the bra from me completely.
"Get off me," I yelled, but he only smirked and leaned forward to take my breast in his mouth. When I continued to squirm and protest, he bit down, hard enough to draw blood.
Fury filled me, and I knew there was no way I could let him win. Luca had given me hope of rescue, and I would not willingly let Michael have my body ever again. Not if fighting him meant Luca might reach me in time.
Michael began to shift his hips to give him better access to my core. I felt his grip loosen on my wrists as his free hand travelled down my stomach to the edge of my panties. With all the strength I could muster, I yanked my uninjured arm from his grip and rolled to the side. The sudden shift dislodged Michael, and I hurriedly scrambled across the bed. Even though I had bought myself a few minutes, we both knew I didn't have the strength to escape. Michael's chilling laugh filled the room, and he slowly walked toward me.
"You stupid bitch," he chuckled. I continued to back away from him, and when he grew closer, I kicked my leg forward, targeting the juncture between his legs. Before my foot could connect with his groin, Michael threw his hand forward, misdirecting my aim, and I was only able to graze his hip. I ducked as I saw his fist fly forward, but it glanced off my shoulder, causing my broken arm to fly against the wall, and for a moment, I saw stars.
"I really thought you learned your lesson yesterday," he growled, grabbing my hair and throwing me to the floor. He kicked me solidly in the kidney, and I was thankful he had removed his shoes. Even so, my breathing stuttered from the devastating pain.
Michael grabbed me by the throat and lifted me to the wall, slamming my head so violently, I felt the drywall crack behind me. His grip tightened, and my vision began to blacken. I clawed at his hand, trying desperately to loosen his fingers to allow air to enter my lungs.
"I will break you," Michael spat, leaning closely, his eyes full of hatred. "You will be mine."
I kicked frantically with my feet and glared at him. "Never," I croaked, although the sound was almost nonexistent as Michael continued to choke me.
His face reddened with fury and he lifted me above him.
"We'll see about that," he yelled and threw me across the room. I shouted in pain as I bounced across the hard bed. A snap echoed through the room as my leg slammed into the bedside table, and I tumbled to the floor between the bed and the wall.
Within seconds, Michael was lifting me by my neck once more and shoving me onto the bed. Keening moans filled the room, and only when Michael slapped me once more and told me to shut up did I realize the sounds came from me. Hot tears began to race down my face when I realized that I hadn't been able to fight him long enough. Luca wouldn't be here in time to save me.
"Please, stop," I begged as Michael began to reach for my silk panties.