She slapped me, punched me, kicked me. I felt my lip tear. I tasted blood. I closed my eyes and took a breath, then grabbed her by the upper arms and flipped her. I straddled her body and then punched her in the face – once, twice, three times. Her nose was bloody. Her eyes open and face shocked. I stared down ather.
I leaned close. "You don't have any power over them," I stated clearly. "Notanymore."
Margarie stared up at me and strangely, she looked just like Natalia had – drugged, glassy-eyed, and more than a little lost. My heart clenched because, in that moment, she reminded me of the unnamed girl from the dance club. I only hoped that what I said was true. That Margarie's actions really wouldn't continue to hold power over all of the people that she hadhurt.
"Harlow." Bellamy's strong, clear voice rang from the doorway. I looked up and he came in the room. "Go ahead and get up slowly," he instructed. I glanced down at Margarie, worried that she would try to make a break for it, but as I did as Bellamy ordered, she remained laid out on thefloor.
Bellamy sat her up and put her arms behind her back. He pulled handcuffs out of his back pocket and then snapped them into place on her wrists. Texas stood in the doorway as well when I looked up again. I swallowedthickly.
"Where's Marv?" Iasked.
"He and Bell caught the guy trying to escape. He's holding him downstairs," Texas answered. He looked at Margarie as Bellamy led her out of the room and down thehall.
"Margarie?" came the shocked sound of Mr. Wallace's voice as Bellamy helped his last remaining daughter down the stairs in handcuffs. "No, Margarie.No."
I wondered if all parents were as blind to their children as Mr. Wallace had been. I missed my mom more now than ever, more than anything. Things were so confusing. She was the only one who really knew about my feelings for the guys, though I hadn't told her about the other things – the kisses and now...more. I needed to tell her. Maybe she would have a solution out of thismess.
I watched Bellamy's retreating back as Texas and I made our way to the edge of the stairs. Just below, at the front doors, stood Marv and a man in dark clothing with his hands cuffed at the small of hisback.
"Harlow?" Texas looked at me expectantly. "Ready?" He held out hishand.
I wasn't ready. At least, I didn't feel ready. Not at all. Because I felt that things were about to change, and I wasn't sure if they were for the better or not. Yet I found myself reaching back to Texas' hand anyway; like it didn't matter if the change was coming, it would come whether I fought it ornot.