Chapter One: Escape

                                    

                                          
Willow
I ran, my bare feet pounding the pavement, my heart racing with fear.
My body ached from exhaustion, near starvation and my husband's fists. I know my lip was bleeding, but I was thankful the zip-up hoodie I wore was dark enough that you couldn't see the rest.
I tripped on my pyjamas that were too big, almost crashing but I caught myself, forcing myself to run faster.
I couldn't go back, not now, not ever. 
The look in Oliver's eyes — I knew he'd kill me if I went back. 
God, I'd never seen that look in his eyes. 
In anyone's. 
They were pure black. No white, no sparkling green I'd fallen for the moment we met after my brother's funeral. 
A broken sob fell out of me. 
I looked over my shoulder at the empty street, the moon lighting the sleeping suburb that was unaware of my terror. 
If I knew screaming for help would save me, I'd ruin my throat. 
But, it never did. Only made Ollie worse when the doors closed again.
This time I had to run. I had to leave town. 
Everyone here seemed complacent with Oliver's behaviour. 
I'd once thought him to be sweet, if not a little overprotective of me around other men. 
After a few months, the facade slipped. He slapped me when he saw a male coworker drive me home, my car had died and Oliver wasn't answering my calls or texts. Saying if he ever saw me with another man, he'd break both mine and the guy's neck. 
A week later, I had my 'accident' and everything changed. 
I had to quit my job from random panic attacks that sent me home every day before I'd even left my car. 
Oliver started to get violent. 
It was just shouting harsh words at first, then it changed, and before I knew it, he was injecting me with random drugs, beating me unconscious whenever I upset him. 
I don't even know what he did to my body when I was out. I was always too sore to even know.
Tonight, I'd asked too many questions about our marriage, a proposal I couldn't remember, let alone a wedding. 
He kept telling me it was my accident and that it caused memory loss. Then he hit me. 
And I only escaped because he always answered his phone - even when 'dealing with the wife. 
He'd injected me with something. 
Whatever it was, I was able to crawl to the bedroom. I found clothes and my stash of cash for this exact emergency and climbed out the bedroom window. 
I'm not sure how long I ran for.
I turned towards what I hoped was the highway. 
A taxi's headlights gleamed like a beacon in the darkness, and I ran to the middle of the road, throwing my hands out and praying they'd stop in time. 
Or be going fast enough to end it all. 
The scream of brakes and the burn of rubber filled the air, stopping a foot in front of me. 
I ran to the back and yanked open the door, diving inside, ignoring the driver yelling at me and calling me crazy. 
"Take me to the nearest motel, out of town," I gasped, tossing the handful of cash I had at him.
He glanced at me over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing but he said nothing. He turned the car around and started driving.
I fumbled for my phone, my hands shaking. 
I needed help. 
Police wouldn't do anything; Oliver was smart and had a lot of money. He'd talk or buy his way out of it, he always did. 
All my family were dead. Buried in...
One name echoed in my mind - Azrael. The enforcer, the scariest guy in Sleepy Hollow. 
But also one of the last people I could trust. The only number I had of any kind of hope. 
I hesitated, memories of our past flooding back. His teasing. My feelings for him fighting with my fear of the secrets he and the others kept. They're hatred of me after...
My final memory of Az held firm. 
Of us at my brother Jaden's funeral. 
He took my phone, putting in his number under a different name, knowing I was leaving the next day. 
We'd fought about it. I was glad he still came. 
"If anything ever goes wrong, or you need somewhere to go, call me." He'd been so sincere when he said it, hugging me one last time. 
With trembling fingers, I found his number. 
It rang once, twice, before his deep voice growled, "Azrael."
"A-Az, it's me, Willow," I stammered, my voice barely audible.
There was a pause, then, "Where are you?"
I asked the driver, repeating the name of the hotel he was taking me to and how far away I was, my voice cracking. "Please, Angel," I whimpered, feeling broken. "I need help."
The line went dead. 
I stayed with the phone to my ear, my heart racing.
Would he show? 
Did he even care? 
It had been two years since I'd seen anyone from my hometown since I'd left. 
Oliver had made sure of that. 
I hadn't even been allowed to come back to visit Jaden's grave. 
Azrael had been my brother's best friend, along with Cassius and Reaper. 
The three of them tormented, teased and practically bullied me throughout my entire high school years. Always behind Jaden's back, never letting my big brother see, knowing he'd have kicked their asses. 
I never told him because I had a crush on all of them, and I kind of enjoyed the attention.
But, they also didn't scare me. 
Not the way Oliver did. 
They'd never laid a hand on me. 
They'd never strangled or beaten me until I passed out and then left me until the next morning, not caring if I was dead. 
They didn't drug me and then cut me, drinking my blood like some fucked up Nosferatu every few nights.
They'd never made me feel so mentally and emotionally weak. 
"Hey, girlie!" The driver's voice snapped me back, seeing the taxi pulled into the motel's parking lot. 
I thanked the driver and stumbled out, my eyes scanning the darkness.
That's when I saw him.
Six foot two, muscular and clad in denim and leather. 
His hair was still the same long twisted curls of dark chocolate, pulled away from his wide jaw in a tie. 
Azrael, leaning against his Harley, his light hazel eyes fixed on me with an unnerving intensity. He always had a look that could make any man shit their pants if it was set on them wrong — I had seen it happen at least twice in high school, once when he'd nearly beaten the school frat boy for flipping my skirt during baseball training. 
My heart skipped a beat as he strode towards me, his massive frame eclipsing the dim light.
"Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and rough, Az's gaze roamed my face, his eyes narrowing as he took in the bruises on my cheek and the cut on my lip. His expression darkened, his jaw clenched in anger.
Without a word, he grasped my wrist, pulling me towards his Harley. I stumbled, but he caught me, his grip firm.
"Don't even try to bitch at me," he growled, tossing me onto the bike, his hands wrapping my waist and lifting me like I weighed nothing. 
I hissed at the pain, Az's eyes darkening at the noise. 
By the time I settled into the back seat of his bike, he was already securing a helmet over my head. 
His hands brushed against my face, his touch surprisingly gentle. His touch was so warm against my damp skin.
He fell into the seat in front of me, rocking the bike. 
"Hold on," he ordered, his voice low and rough.
Before I could respond, he kicked the bike to life, and we roared out of the motel's parking lot. The wind whipped through my hair, and I clung to Azrael's wide waist, my hand barely able to touch, my heart sinking into my stomach from the speed. 
"Where are we going?" I shouted over the wind.
Azrael's response was a snarl. "I'm taking you home."
I held back a sob. 
Why would I think he'd take me anywhere else? It's not like he remembered — I had no home in Sleepy Hollow. Not anymore. 
Azrael's grip on the handlebars was unyielding, his determination clear.
I was going back to Sleepy Hollow, whether I liked it or not.
Instead of heading into the small town from the main road, Az took a dirt road. 
"Wait, where are you—" I was cut off by Azrael's rumbling dark laugh.
"You think I'm going to dump you in the shithole hotel in town?" He asked like I was insane. "You're staying me with, sweetheart." 
I blinked as we stopped at a large gated area. 
"Where the hell do you live?"
He just chuckled, the gates opening silently, and he drove down the winding tree-lined driveway. 
I couldn't help but stare as we curved a water fountain circular stone driveway and he pulled up at the bottom of ivory steps. 
A luxurious mansion sprawled before us, its sleek lines and modern design a far cry from the rough, gritty biker image I had of Azrael.
Let alone the rustic and sleepy town look that was Sleepy Hollow not twenty minutes away. 
"Welcome to my humble abode," Azrael said, his voice laced with sarcasm, as he killed the engine.
I slid off the bike, my eyes wide with wonder. "I didn't expect...this."
Azrael chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement as he helped me take off the helmet. 
"Breaking crooked lawyers' fingers pays the bills, sweetheart."
I raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was joking or not. 
Though, knowing the 'gang' he belonged to, I wouldn't put it past him.
"Come on, sweetheart." He jogged up the steps with ease, opening the door and waiting for me. 
I hesitated, a wicked look in his amber eyes. 
It wasn't the same look. I told myself. 
I swallowed my fear, knowing I was being silly and stepped inside. 
The interior of the villa was just as impressive, with high ceilings, marble floors, and lavish furnishings.
Az led me through the opulent space, I couldn't help but feel out of place. This was not the lair of a biker gang enforcer I had expected.
Azrael gestured to a sleek, black couch. "Make yourself at home. You're going to be here for a while."
I hesitated, unsure of what to say or do. But Azrael's expression softened, and he added, "You're safe here, Willow. No one will hurt you." His voice was so sincere. Like when he'd given me his number before leaving. 
I nodded, moved to the couch and fell into the soft leather.
Az got me a glass of whiskey — not so withdrawn from his biker ways at least. 
Shrugged off his jacket and sat down next to me, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. 
"Relax, sweetheart." He soothed, taking a long sip from his glass. "Have your drink, then go upstairs for a shower."  
I met his eyes, seeing the flash of anger and concern in them as he looked at my face. 
For the first time since I'd fled, I felt a glimmer of hope. I hadn't felt scared since Az picked me up. 
But, I wasn't safe. 
Even if I ditched my phone during the bike ride. Oliver would find me. 
He always did. 
I never knew how, but he was always there. At first, I thought it had been kind of sweet, knowing he was never far. 
Until I realised it wasn't out of protection, but possession. 
He didn't like me being out of his sight, let alone around other people. 
I isolated myself a lot because of it. 
I don't even think I still had a friend left.
I guess it would make leaving the state easier, no one to explain my sudden disappearance to. 
"Why'd you ditch the phone?" Azrael asked casually, making me jump a little, almost forgetting he was there from how silent he was. 
I blinked at him. "Uh-" I fumbled. 
He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Not an answer, sweetheart." 
I gritted my teeth. "Stop calling me that." 
He smirked, sipping his drink in a slow draw, his eyes locked with mine as if he could see my secrets. 
"You know you like it," he teased. 
I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink finally, hoping he'd shut up soon. 
I forgot how annoying he was. 
He suddenly gripped my jaw, turning me to face him. 
"You didn't answer me." He growled out, his eyes boring into mine. 
I shivered from the warmth he exuded. 
It was almost unnatural.
"I dropped it." I lied. 
His eyes narrowed. "You're a shit liar, sweetheart. Try again." He moved closer, his breath hot on my face; mint and cigarettes.
I hated how much I'd missed the smell of him. 
"I-" I choked, tears swelling, unable to answer.