Life Wasn't Like This Once

Wilson's white cotton shirt was stained with dirt, and with his nose slightly swollen and red from his crying, he looked so much like a lamb that had wandered into a lion's den. His innocent demeanor only served to excite these madmen, making them want to hurt him even more.

"You know, begging might work on Sylvia Fuller, but not on us."

Just as they were about to drag Wilson away, I managed to cut through my ropes. Immediately, I lunged forward and headbutted the scar-faced man out of the way. Then, I stepped protectively in front of Wilson.

"What the fuck? What the hell are you all doing? Get him!" Hand clamped over his bleeding nose, the leader bellowed at his subordinates, causing them to swarm forward. "Beat the shit out of him! Once he's down, we can take our time playing with him!"

I was completely outnumbered, so I could do nothing but shield Wilson beneath me as best as I could.

"Sir, sir! Stop hitting him! Please, stop hitting him!" Wilson shouted through his tears. He kept trying to shove me away even as he begged them to stop beating me. Despair rolled from him in waves.

At that moment, the steel door was bashed open with a loud bang by an SUV crashing right through it. Gunfire instantly followed, drawing everyone's attention toward the doorway.

Sylvia rushed toward Wilson and swept him into a tight hug. "Thank goodness, you're alright."

The sudden relief at being saved had Wilson fainting from the shock.

Sylvia carried him to the ambulance before helping him straighten his disheveled clothes, her every movement screaming gentleness.

I slowly climbed to my feet, only to meet Sylvia's dark gaze the instant I raised my head. My heart sank.

"Sebastian Chance." Her voice was soft, yet it still froze all the blood in my veins. "Why were you with him?"

Swallowing the blood rising in my throat, I forced my lips into a smile. "Would you believe me if I said it was a coincidence?"

A hard slap was her answer. The blow sent me straight back to the ground.

"Since when were you a religious person?"

I spat out a mouthful of blood, but ultimately, I didn't tell her the truth about how the Mass was supposed to be for Noah.

She stepped on my fingers and ground her heel down. The intense agony caused me to scream.

"When did you start scheming this?" she barked.

"I didn't!"

Spinning around, Sylvia shot the scar-faced man in the leg before aiming her gun at his head. "Did he scheme this?"

The scar-faced man howled in pain, then raised a shaking finger to point at me. "I-It was him! Mr. Chance sought me out first, saying he would pay me to do this so that he could take revenge on Wilson Hink."

"That's bullshit!" I interrupted loudly. However, Sylvia's men pressed me back to the ground, their hands firm on my shoulders.

Sylvia let out a light laugh before putting a bullet in the scar-faced man's head.

"Sebastian." Kneeling down to seize my hand in a vice grip, she said, "You harmed someone precious to me, so you have to pay an equivalent price in return."

With a cracking sound, she broke my pointer finger.

I hollered in pain, my vision going spotty as my body convulsed.

"Sylvia! How could you do this to me? I'm your husband!"

She stood and straightened herself. She flatly commanded, "Break his remaining fingers."

With that, I was roughly pinned to an oil drum while my hands were yanked to the sides and spread out.

"Sylvia Fuller!" I bellowed hysterically, "I hate you! I shouldn't have saved you ten years ago!"

Sylvia, who had turned to leave, paused. Nonetheless, it didn't last long, and she didn't look back as she strode off.

As agony overwhelmed me, I recalled the first time I played the piano for her.

At the time, she had leaned against the piano while gazing at me. Reaching out to take my hand, she had uttered oh-so-gently, "Sebby, I really love you like this."

Ten years ago, I stepped into the depths of hell because of my decision to save her.

Ten years later, she cut the last link tying me to her with her own hands.

…

At three in the morning, I was crumpled on the floor of the abandoned warehouse, my fingers bent and twisted into horrifying angles, when several of my men came rushing in with medical equipment.

As the building went up in a blaze of flames behind me, I leaned back in my seat and called my contact.

"Have the boat waiting at the harbor, and give me a new identity. I want the name Sebastian Chance to thoroughly disappear from this world."