Chapter 11
Grace
You don’t feel guilty until you have to face the consequences of your actions.
Disgust puts a huge knot into my throat.
When I enter the apartment, the memories come up.
The moments between me and Cyrus. These walls hold two years.
It’s true that our relationship has only gotten to a new level recently, but two years is still two years.
The mornings, days and nights we spent together hit me and throw my sins into my face.
I have kissed Chase Baker again. The man who kidnapped me, sexually assaulted me, gutted me emotionally—and sometimes beat me bloody.
Who took my parents' love and warmth from me, who took my normal life from me.
I feel like crouching in a corner and rocking back and forth until my mind finds safety in the motion.
“Hurry up. We can’t stay here long.”
“I don’t think—”
“Grace. I know you’re torn between staying and coming with me. Fighting yourself. Fighting your feelings. You can throw my sins in my face again, but it won’t help you right now. It’s best for everyone if you come with me.”
“I…” I catch my lower lip between my teeth and freeze like that for a long time. Chase cups my face in his hands and looks straight into my eyes. He strokes my chilled skin with his thumb.
“You’ve never been his. And Cyrus knows that, too.”
His words hit me like cold water.
“How can you be so sure?” I ask, heat creeping into my voice.
“And why do you think there’ll be anything between us after what happened?
If Lucas really is who you say he is… all we have to do is hunker down until he finds out who sent the gifts.
Then we part ways. I…” I close my eyes and take a long, deep, hissing breath.
“I don’t want to be surrounded by murderers. ”
Chase leans in close to my ear and whispers into it in that deep, resonant voice of his. My body reacts instantly to his closeness, his wordless touch, his voice. A wave of warmth shudders through me. My breathing turns uneven, and my heart kicks faster.
“Just tell me what you felt when I killed the men who had defiled you.”
A hot tear runs down my face. My lips tremble as I part them.
“Joy. And relief, that they can never hurt me again.”
“No one can hurt you.”
“Not you, either.”
“I never wanted to hurt you, Grace. I had to choose, and I chose the lesser of two evils. I bore the consequences—the hate in your eyes, the sadness in your heart.”
Tears sting behind my closed eyes.
“And Mr. Miller’s death?” Mr. Miller’s cries echo in my mind, trapped.
My stomach turns when I think about the past—about how pain spread through my jaw after he hit me, how his body pinned mine down, holding me in place, pressing me into the mud.
The way he tore my clothes. The way his soft dick hardened between my legs. Bitter bile rises in my throat.
“You saved me,” I whisper. “But then… when I needed you most, you weren’t there. Even though I was calling for you. I wanted you to come. To tear those vermin off me.”
I start to tremble.
My eyes fly open and meet his—flashing with cold, threatening anger.
“You sent me to jail.”
“You deserved it,” I say without hesitation, without a flicker of guilt.
“I deserved it.” He tucks a wet lock of hair behind my ear. “Neither of us can change the past, but maybe I can make up for my sins in the present.”
“Maybe it’s too late.” I slip out of his embrace and shut the bathroom door behind me.
My wet, cold clothes cling to me like a second skin.
They hit the faded tiles with a slap as I peel them off one by one.
The cold has sunk into my bones. It feels like my flesh is a pincushion, being stabbed by a thousand fiery needles every second.
It’s four p.m., but all I want is a hot bath, my pajamas, and a dumb movie to shut my brain off. This day has completely drained me.
I look myself in the eyes in the mirror and brush back the strands of hair stuck together from the rain.
“I deserved it.”
“This is the last time, I promise. I’ll never hurt you again.”
“No one can hurt you.”
My skin flushes with shame, heat crawling up my neck, when I think about what I wanted to do last night.
Heat burns inside and out when Chase opens the door and our gazes meet in the mirror. His eyes are inviting—mysterious and repulsive at the same time, even now.
I set the hairbrush down, let out the breath I’ve been holding, and turn around. My gaze drops to Chase’s masculine hand as he extends it toward me.
I don’t want to think about the past, about all the horrors. I want to be free. He’s the key to my freedom, because when I’m with him, I don’t have to keep secrets. I don’t have to be ashamed of myself. I don’t have to hate myself.
This feeling is dangerous—like scorpion venom. Still, I put my hand in his. A tingling rushes through my body, and my mouth parts slightly. I can see it in his deep brown eyes that this innocent touch affects him, too. The freckles on his nose look darker, sharper.
He pulls me across the apartment. I flip off the light and close the door. I don’t look back at Cyrus’s place—I just follow the beast in front of me, blindly.