My Great Escape Led Me to You (Emily Blair) novel Chapter 1291

The pain was so sharp that Emily wanted to curl up and disappear, but she was too weak to even move. Any twitch she made was barely noticeable.

The man didn’t hold back. Every kick landed hard and merciless. Emily’s mind spun. She lost track of how many times his boot slammed into her stomach.

She could taste blood in her mouth, that harsh metallic tang. The agony was so overwhelming that it started to blur into numbness. Her body felt like it was shutting down, her senses fading away. All she could really hear was her own breathing—harsh, ragged gasps, the kind you hear from someone on the edge of dying.

Somewhere through that haze, she heard Benjamin’s voice. “That’s enough. Don’t kill her.”

The man stopped right away. He nodded and stepped back.

Emily hung there, limp and helpless, her body supported only by the rope digging into her wrists. Her arms throbbed, but even that pain was nothing compared to the fire burning in her stomach.

Benjamin walked closer. He was shorter than her, so he had to tip his chin up to meet her eyes.

“Emily Blair, if you want to get home sooner, you should start convincing them to listen to me. Once Isabella’s safe, you’ll be safe too.”

Emily forced her eyelids open and looked at him. It took everything she had. Benjamin stood there, looking crisp and put-together, not a speck of dirt on him even out here in the middle of nowhere. The difference between them was almost cruel.

“I need to record a video,” Benjamin said. “If you help me out, I’ll let you down. Sound fair?”

Emily just dropped her gaze and stayed silent.

Benjamin’s eyes flickered, and then he gave a little laugh, slapping his forehead. “Oh, right. I forgot you can’t talk with that tape on. My bad.”

He moved in close and yanked the tape off her mouth. The rough pull made her flinch, tearing at her skin.

He balled up the tape and gave her a mocking smile. “There, you can talk now. Don’t bother screaming, though. No one’s around here. You could yell yourself hoarse and still no one would hear. Save your energy. Figure out how you’re going to deal with me instead.”

Emily kept her head down, catching her breath in raspy gulps, then slowly raised her eyes to look at him.

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, but the image of blood running down Emily’s arm burned into his mind, so bright and red it felt like it was branded on his heart.

He sucked in a shaky breath, forcing himself to keep it together, and opened the video again. This time he made himself watch every second, all three long minutes.

For three minutes, the man just kept kicking Emily, never stopping.

On the video, Emily looked barely conscious, blood streaming faster from her arm.

Tristan stared at the screen, his eyes stinging, but he couldn’t look away.

His hand clenched around his phone so tightly that the veins stood out on his skin, like he might crush it.

Every second of those videos was a gut punch, a brutal reminder that Emily was out there, suffering where he couldn’t reach her. And he couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.