Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I send up a silent thanks to our amazing housekeeper at The Mill, then find a pair of sweatpants and the plain cotton shirt, and turn my attention back to her.
"There’s blood everywhere, and God knows what else all over your body. I’m going to clean you up and get you into some different clothes, okay?”
She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look at me, so when she doesn’t fight me, I carry on. I strip the shirt off her with some effort, because she decides to thrash around then, her hands moving to cover her breasts. I try to remind myself that her reaction has little to do with me and more so what she’s endured, but it’s really fucking hard. Watching the terror fill her eyes. Forcing her to stay put. I’ve seen fear more than once in her blue eyes—hell, I’ve put it there myself more than once before—but this is different.
The way she’s looking at me, it's like she thinks I’m here to kill her.
I wipe as much blood as I can off her with my old T-shirt and toss it into the gym bag, then I use one of the towels to dry and clean her the best I can. There’s still the stain of blood on her face, fingers, and around her nails, but that can wait. Nothing a hot shower and bar of soap can’t fix. I tug the T-shirt on over her head, and then lay her out onto the seat and put her in the sweatpants, tugging them up her thighs and tightening the waistband at her hips.
Once I’m finished, I reach back into the bag and pull out some stretch bandage. Her wrist needs to be wrapped, at least until I can get Dr. Brooks to take a look at it.
“Stop. It hurts.” She whimpers, trying to tug her arm from my grasp.
“It wouldn’t hurt so bad if you’d stop fighting me.” I grit through my teeth, my patience wavering.
This time she listens and stops, allowing me to finish. Next comes some gauze for the blood on the back of her head. I press a wad against the spot, with added pressure to stop the bleeding. A whine rattles from her throat, and her eyes pinch shut.
"Breathe. Everything is going to be okay. I’ll take care of this. I’ll protect you.”
My voice seems to draw her back to the present, and some of the fear bleeds out of her haunted gaze. "How? How can you protect me? How can you stop the inevitable from happening? The moment my father finds out what happened he’s going to blackmail me, use the murder as a weapon to control me. I can’t… I won’t… I’d rather die than live like that again.”
It's the first full sentence I've gotten out of her, and it both terrifies and pisses me off. She'd rather die than be her father’s captive, but I’d rather die than let anything happen to her. I won’t lose her again, but especially not to herself.
"Don’t talk like that. Your father is a minor inconvenience. We'll take care of the body—"
"Yeah, you've got practice with making bodies disappear, huh?" She gives me a hateful sneer.
I chose to ignore her comment. I doubt she knows what she is talking about, and even if she does, she only knows what she remembers. Not the truth. Not what really happened that night. She was injured before I stepped foot in that office.
"I have various methods of getting what I want, and I will use every single one of them if it means you’re protected against our enemies.”
“I don’t want your help or protection. There is no us. Let me go. Let me be free before it’s too late.”
There is no us. The words echo back at me, and my anger flares. The fuck there isn’t.
I tighten my hold on her, because I’m afraid she’ll slip through my fingers all over again if I don’t. “That’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t ask what you want, nor do I care what you want right now. My only concern is making sure you’re safe and protected from what’s to come. And even though you’re in a traumatized state of mind, I want you to understand that no matter what, there will always be an us. There is no you, or me. There is only us.”
“Nothing you say or do will stop my father. He will hurt me. Use me. Break me. I will be trapped all over again.” Her voice cracks, and the pure anguish in her words brands me like a hot iron.
She’s afraid. So afraid she’d rather die than face him.
I have to do something…
An idea pops into my head, and once there it refuses to leave. I could make her mine, forever mine. It’s reckless and stupid, but it will save her. Months ago I never would’ve considered what I’m about to say, or do, but now…nothing else matters.