The Broken Angel He Claimed

Angela's POV

One of my friends came running down the hall, breathless. "Angela! Ms. Miller's looking for you in the art room."

"Ms. Miller? Really? What for?" I asked.

"No idea," he shrugged. "Maybe some project or whatever. You better go see for yourself."

"Ugh... fine. I'll go check it out."

Seriously, couldn't she pick a better time? I should be heading to the hospital to see Mom... yet, curiosity pushed me down the nearly empty hallway. Almost everyone had already left.

When I reached the art room, no one was there. Only messy tables, streaked with dried paint.

"Ms. Miller?" I called out.

No answer.

Either my friend messed up, or she'd already left. I sighed, about to turn away...

Then it happened.

Before I could reach the door, a hand slammed over my mouth-rough and sudden. I froze in panic.

"Shhh."

The whisper brushed against my neck, and I couldn't move. My chest tightened, and panic shot through me.

"Don't fight. Stay still," he muttered close to my ear.

My heart skipped. When he released my mouth, I spun around quickly to see who was in the room with me.

"I-Ian?" I choked out. "Why are you here?"

He didn't answer. He just pulled a key from his pocket and locked the door. The click made me flinch, and I felt a cold wave of dread.

"Damn, Ian! What the hell are you doing?!" I shrieked.

His eyes pinned me. Dark. Unreadable. He stepped closer, and I retreated until the table dug sharply against my hips.

"You've been blowing me off like I don't matter, Angela. I'm done being ignored."

"Move!" I tried to push by, but he caught me instantly.

"You don't get it!" he snapped. "I've had enough!"

His push came without warning, hard enough to send me crashing to the floor. Pain shot up my back as he pinned me under his weight before I could even struggle.

"You're mine, Angela," he breathed, hot against my ear.

"Get off!"

"Quit fighting," he hissed, his hand sliding from my face to my neck. "You're only making it harder."

Panic surged when he shoved a rag into my mouth. I thrashed, but his weight locked me in place. My body screamed with every futile movement.

Tears stung my eyes as I shoved at him, desperate to get him off. His hands had crossed the line, he even tried to undo the buttons on my shirt.

No. No. Please, no.

I shook my head hard, tears streaming, but he didn't let up.

With the last bit of energy I had, I kicked out wildly and desperately. My foot hit him, and he jerked back with a snarl. For an instant, I had time to breathe-a small triumph.

This was my chance. I made a run for the door, my heart racing as adrenaline surged through me. My fingers clawed at the rag until it came free.

"Help!" I screamed, pounding the door with my hand. My throat burned, but I didn't care. I needed someone to hear me.

Ian recovered instantly. He grabbed my wrist tight and pulled me back hard.

"You're not going anywhere, Angela," he growled.

"You freaking psycho! Let me go!" I shouted, struggling. He leaned in, trying to kiss me, but I twisted away.

"Angela, are you there?"

My heart jumped. Aaron's voice outside the door. Relief hit me... until Ian clamped his hand over my mouth again.

"Shut up!" he hissed.

"Angela," Aaron called again, closer now.

Ian's glare burned into me, making him look even scarier. Panic clawed at my chest. I wanted to scream, but my voice was trapped. My mind raced, looking for any way out.

Desperate, I bit down on Ian's hand. He roared, finally letting go.

"Aaron!" I gasped, voice raw. "Help me!"

"You bitch!" Ian snapped, slapping me.

Pain flared across my cheek. He lunged again, hands rough, grabbing and pressing. I fought back-scratching, kicking, screaming with everything I had. Anything to keep him off me.

Then... BANG! The door rattled. Someone was forcing it open.

For a heartbeat, there was silence. Then, Aaron finally smashed the door in. Our eyes met. I froze. I must've looked like a total wreck.

"You son of a bitch!" Aaron shouted.

He lunged at Ian, fists flying. Ian snapped back, hitting Aaron's jaw, then stomach.

I froze, stomach twisting. Aaron stumbled, crashing under Ian's relentless blows. I flinched, heart hammering.

"No! Stop, Ian! You'll kill him!" My voice tore out, raw and shaky.

But Ian ignored me. He kept beating Aaron. If this went on, Aaron would be killed.

Fear gripped me as my eyes landed on a wooden chair. My hands shook uncontrollably. It was the only way. Ian was too strong to stop with my hands. I had to swing it, hit him, give Aaron a chance. Every nerve screamed in panic, but I forced myself to focus.

Finally, I grabbed it and swung with everything I had. The chair hit Ian's shoulder. He grunted, snarling.

"You little bitch!" he shouted, whipping around.

He rose fast, coming at me. I stumbled back, slammed into the wall. Chest tight. My stomach churned. I had no idea what he'd do next.

Cornered, Ian's hands gripped my throat, pressing until I could barely breathe. My hands tried to push him off, but his grip only tightened.

"Look, Angela... none of this had to happen," he muttered, low. "If you'd just be mine..."

Tears burned my eyes. Air was scarce. My neck ached, every breath stabbing me like fire. Panic twisted inside me. I was losing it... I can't... I can't fight him... how do I get out of this?

My strength is fading fast. I can't hold on much longer. Am... I going to die?

Angela's POV

I didn't know what was happening anymore as I closed my eyes, when suddenly his grip loosened on my neck.

I saw Ian fall. It seemed that while Ian was focused on me, Aaron attacked him from behind. Ian tumbled to the floor, letting out a moan of pain. Aaron rained punches on him.

I coughed, my lungs burning for a real breath. My knees gave out, and I dropped to the floor. Ian... he was going under Aaron's blows, one after another.

Aaron finally stopped when Ian was helpless. He approached, his gaze filled with worry. "Angela, hey... are you okay?"

I managed only a weak nod. No words came out. The world spun too fast, too terrifying to bear. Aaron pulled me into his arms, like he knew what I needed. "I'm sorry... I should've been here sooner."

His warmth hit me like a lifeline, steadying the storm inside. I shook, pressing into his chest, tears soaking his shirt, all the fear I'd been bottling up finally spilling out. He didn't say much-didn't have to. I was so damn glad he was here. I couldn't even imagine what would've happened if he hadn't shown up.

He finally pulled back. Wrapped his jacket around me in one swift move. "Let's get out of here."

God, the way he looked at me... warm, steady, almost too much to take. And that's what scared me. If he ever found out the truth, would that look still be there? Or would it disappear, just like that?

"Angela." His voice had a hint of worry, dragging me out of my thoughts. "We should get going."

Aaron helped me up, his hand steady at my waist. As we left the art room, I caught sight of Ian, lying there, helpless. My chest tightened as I remembered how close I had come, but Aaron took my hand, his fingers holding mine and somehow giving me the strength.

The way he cared made my eyes sting. It was warm, genuine... he treated me like I was so precious to him. When we reached the school entrance, Aaron walked me to the front of the car. My driver was already waiting.

"Thank you, Aaron," I said.

"You need to get checked out," he said.

I shook my head slowly, "No need. I'm fine. Resting at home is enough for me. But, your wound..." I glanced at his battered face.

"Don't worry. I'm fine." He touched his mouth with a wince but still offered me a smile. "Make sure you get your wound treated when you get home."

He opened my car door and waited until I was settled before closing it quietly.

I watched him wave his hand through the window. Guilt gnawed at me for leaving him like that. Immediately, I opened my car window. "Aaron," I called out.

"Come with me. I'll take you home," I said. I knew he was taking the school bus, but the school bus had long since left because of our late exit.

Aaron fell silent, his face unreadable. When his eyes met mine, there was a flicker of hesitation. He wasn't the type to ask for help, not even when it mattered.

"Hey," I said firmly. "You're not going home alone, not like this."

Finally he nodded, and a faint smile crossed his battered lips. "All right," he said.

My heart pounded the moment he sank down beside me. Seeing him up close knocked the air out of my chest. His face was battered, bruises dark against his skin, and blood at the corner of his mouth. The sight of it made my throat tighten.

I couldn't stop myself. My hand lifted on its own, fingertips brushing his cheek as gently as I could. He winced, a reminder of how much pain he was in, and guilt twisted hard inside me.

"Does it hurt that much?"

"I'm fine. You don't have to worry so much," he told me gently.

My driver suddenly interrupted our conversation. "Where to, Miss?"

"We're going home first," I replied.

"Okay, Miss," the driver replied before starting the car.

"Aaron, you need to come to my house first. I'll treat your wound."

"No need. It's just a small cut, it'll be fine."

I let out a sharp sigh, fed up with how damn stubborn he was. "Aaron Carter!" I snapped.

"Your wound could get infected if you keep ignoring it. I'm going to treat you, no arguments. And don't bother throwing me any more excuses."

The car pulled up to my house a moment later. I got out fast and guided Aaron through the door.

"Sit here," I said, pointing to the dark brown leather sofa in the living room. "I'll get the first aid kit."

Aaron just gave a short nod. I hurried into the kitchen, straight to the bottom drawer by the sink where the first aid kit was always kept. My fingers yanked it open, relief hitting me when I saw the white box with the red cross.

When I came back, he was still on the couch, silent. I dropped to my knees in front of him and flipped the kit open on the table. "This might sting a little," I warned, dipping the cotton swab into the antiseptic.

I started cleaning the cut on his cheek. My hands shook more than I wanted them to and the closeness made it impossible to ignore his breath brushing against my face.

"Why'd you have to be so reckless?" I muttered, finally breaking the silence. "Ian could have done worse to you."

"If it meant I could protect you," he said softly. "It was worth it."

"You don't have to do any of this for me," I whispered, pressing the bandage on the wound on his brow. "Look at you now. You got hurt because of me."

I looked up at him, and he gave me a faint smile. "I'm fine. These bruises don't mean a thing. What matters is that you're safe."

I froze. The second our eyes met, the rest of the world faded.

His fingers wrapped around my wrist. I flinched, air catching in my throat. It wasn't harsh, just steady in a way that pinned me in place.

"Aaron..."

Angela's POV

He didn't say anything. He just looked at me deeply. Then he caught my hand and drew it against his chest. My breath hitched, my whole body frozen under the weight of that moment.

"Angela," his voice came rough, low enough it barely reached me. "You matter to me. I won't let anyone touch you like that. Not ever."

My heart was racing. His mouth hovered too close, his breath ghosting across my skin. I should have pulled back, put space between us. But I didn't. I couldn't. A part of me didn't even want to.

I didn't even realize my eyes were closing. The world went quiet, like it didn't exist anymore, only the two of us did.

But just then, my phone rang, snapping me out of it.

I grabbed the phone from the table, giving Aaron a quick glance. "I have to take this," I said softly, almost like an apology.

Aaron simply nodded. I stood up, stepped into the corner of the room, and finally pressed the green button.

"Hello."

"Is this Ms. Angela?" The woman on the line sounded tense. "This is the hospital. We need to inform you that Mrs. Jones's condition is very serious, and we need your approval for an emergency surgery right away."

"We can't wait any longer. We need to act now," she added.

Her words hit me like a bolt of lightning. My chest tightened under the weight of what I'd just heard.

"I'll be right there," I said.

I slowly walked back to the living room and found Aaron watching me with a puzzled look. "What happened?"

I lowered my head, trying to hide the storm inside me. The hospital's call kept echoing in my mind. Mom was in critical condition, and they needed my consent for surgery. But how was I supposed to explain all this to Aaron? I didn't want to burden him again after everything he'd done for me today.

"I just remembered something I need to take care of," I said quickly, forcing a smile I hoped looked natural. "I have to go. You can use my car to get home."

Aaron's gaze sharpened. "Is something wrong?"

"No," I said, though even I could hear the nervous tremor in my voice.

"Angela."

I looked up, meeting his eyes. I fought back the tears burning behind them, praying he wouldn't notice.

"If you have to go, then go," he said quietly. "But if you need help-anything-tell me."

My chest tightened even more. There was so much I wanted to say, but nothing came out. I just nodded.

"Thank you, Aaron," I whispered before turning and leaving.

***

The drive to the hospital felt endless. Worry for Mom ate at me the whole way. My mind was filled with worst-case scenarios. I tried calling Dad several times, but like before-nothing. Straight to voicemail. Again and again. It felt like I was facing everything alone.

When I arrived, I rushed toward the ICU. A nurse stopped me at the doors.

"Are you the guardian for Mrs. Jones?" she asked.

"Yes, that's me."

"Dr. Smith, our surgeon, is waiting to explain the procedure." She guided me to a consultation room.

Inside, Dr. Smith stood in his white coat, looking at me seriously.

"Miss Jones, we need to perform emergency surgery to save your mother," he said. "But we need your consent to proceed."

I swallowed hard. "What do I need to do?"

He briefly explained the procedure and its risks, then handed the paperwork to the nurse beside him. She pointed to a small table in the corner.

"Please sign here."

I nodded, grabbed the forms, and signed them quickly before handing them back.

"Thank you. We'll begin preparations right away," the nurse said as she left with the documents.

I nodded again, my heart pounding as I stared at the ICU doors, silently praying Mom would make it.

In the waiting room, I sank into a chair. Thoughts of Mom flooded my mind-her gentle smile, her warm laugh that always made the house feel alive. And now she was in surgery, fighting for her life.

Without realizing it, tears streamed down my face. I wanted her back so badly. Her encouragement, her reminders to eat-every small moment suddenly felt priceless.

I bit my lip to keep from breaking down completely. After taking a shaky breath, I tried calling Dad again. Still nothing.

Needing a distraction, I scrolled through my phone-until a notification made my breath catch.

"Jones Corporation Faces Bankruptcy Amid Financial Crisis."

I reread the headline over and over. Failed projects. Investors pulling out. Dad's company-his pride-standing on the edge of collapse.

My hands trembled. Mom in surgery. Dad's company falling apart. My entire world was crumbling. How was I supposed to handle this?

Lost in the chaos of my thoughts, I jolted when someone called my name.

"Angela Jones?"

I looked up to see an elegantly dressed woman standing a few steps away. Her presence alone seemed to dominate the room.

"Yes, I'm Angela. Who are you?" I asked, my voice tense.

She gave a faint smile. "My name is Victoria Bennett. It's good to finally meet."

My stomach dropped. Bennett. Ian Nathaniel Bennett. Was she related to that jerk? Memories from school flashed-his hands on me, and Aaron dragging him away before anything worse happened.

"What do you want?" I asked, my heart pounding.

Victoria stepped closer, her expression icy. "I've heard about my son, Ian. And your friend, the one who dared to leave him bruised and bloodied."