Chapter Two
LOOK AT THAT. Rylee had been right. The lipstick color complemented Beth’s skin tone perfectly.
She smiled at her reflection as she swiped a clear gloss over her rosy bottom lip.
It had been a hot minute since she’d worn anything more than a cover-up and mascara.
Why waste money on expensive makeup, not to mention time and energy, when she worked at a pet grooming boutique and ended up covered in fur and sometimes unmentionable animal fluids daily?
Going out in a cute sundress with a full face of makeup and curled hair was a welcome change, sending a low buzz of excitement through her veins. Yesterday, her friend, the salon owner, Rylee, turned twenty-seven, and her friends had planned a happy hour party in her honor for tonight.
Beth had met most of Rylee’s core friend group multiple times when they’d popped by the shop, and they’d insisted she join them for the birthday celebration.
Jason already had plans to game with his friends—shocker—so why wouldn’t she go?
She hadn’t been out in ages and couldn’t wait to laugh, have a few drinks no one expected her to serve, and eat food she wasn’t expected to prepare.
Jason’s friends hung out at their apartment all the time.
All. The. Damn. Time. Not a Friday or Saturday night went by that Grant, Benny, and a few other losers didn’t have their lazy asses parked on her couch.
They, along with Jason, sucked back beers and ate half her paycheck in snacks every weekend.
When she told Jason about the party invitation a few days ago, she’d been sure he’d tell her to blow it off as he typically did. And of course, she’d have listened to avoid an ugly blow-up. But something went right that day when he’d responded with, “I don’t give a shit.”
Worked for her. He could veg out and game all night while she got dolled up, ate delicious Mexican food, and downed a few spicy margaritas with friends.
Satisfied her makeup looked great, she fished through her closet for the strappy sandals she’d purchased on clearance last fall and had yet to wear. As soon as they were in place with her freshly painted toenails peeking out, she practically bounced out of the bedroom.
For once, excitement felt bigger than the dread that had become her constant companion—the tight knot in her stomach that never fully loosened, the way she held her breath every time she heard his key in the door.
As she reached the front hall and grabbed her purse, the door swung open. Jason stumbled through, making a racket. He bounced off the doorframe, then staggered into the apartment, missing the table as he tried to deposit his keys. They fell to the tile floor with a jarring clatter.
Jason managed a salvage yard owned by his uncle and often knocked off early on Fridays to grab a few beers at a nearby dive bar. It annoyed her to no end how he came home drunk by five in the evening nearly every Friday, but tonight, even his inebriated state couldn’t fully deter her good mood.
“Hey, Jase,” she said as she twirled around, arms outstretched. “What do you think?”
She beamed as she waited for an assessment of her outfit.
When they’d first got together nearly a year and a half ago, she’d loved dressing up for him.
Jason would always tell her she looked beautiful.
He’d had no shortage of compliments and praise, making her feel special and desired.
As time went on, those words faded, and eventually, ugly, berating remarks took their place.
Tonight, her confidence was higher than usual, and she couldn’t wait to wow him with her dolled-up look.
He paused, halfway bent to retrieve his keys, and stared at her.
Her grin grew.
Speechless, she’d take it.
Then his eyes narrowed, and his expression turned to stone.
The air in the apartment seemed to thin.
Beth’s stomach plummeted to her feet. “Never mind,” she said quickly as she dropped her arms to her sides. “I’m just being silly.”
“What the fuck?” he said, voice low, menacing, and slightly slurred.
A warning.
“Um… I…”
He straightened to his full height, then strode toward her with heavy, booted steps that had her backing up on instinct. Every thud against the tile reverberated through the quiet apartment.
“What is this shit?” he shouted, grabbing the thin strap of her sundress as he reached her. The pop of threads snapping combined with his aggressive approach had her jolting like she’d caught a live wire. “Benny and Grant will be here in five fucking minutes, and you’re prancing around half naked.”
Stale, beer-laden breath exploded across her face as he invaded her space.
“You hoping one of them will notice? You gonna try to fuck one of my friends right in front of me in my own goddamn apartment?”
Her jaw dropped. “What?” Never in a million years. She shook her head so hard the room spun. “No. God, Jase, how can you even say that to me?”
Words tumbled out at a rapid clip, fear pushing them faster than she could think. “I’m not even going to be here. It’s Rylee’s birthday party. Remember? I mentioned it to you the other day. I told you her friends were having a little party for her at La Rosa Roja.”
The slap came so fast and so suddenly that shock overrode the pain. Her head snapped to the side, and the copper taste of blood flooded her mouth. She froze, blinking twice before the sting made itself known, blooming across her cheek in a fiery blaze of pain and humiliation.
Her ears rang.
Her chest constricted as a sob lodged in her throat.
“You telling me you’re going out looking like this? Dressed like a fucking slut?”
“N-no.” She could feel the side of her face swelling, and a trickle of blood running from her lip where his palm had smashed it into her teeth. “I-it’s just a sundress.”
Wrong thing to say.
He slapped her again. This time, she felt the agony on impact and couldn’t keep from crying out.
“Just a sundress?” Jason shouted again, grabbing her strap. This time, he yanked, severing the material in half. “Look how fucking easy it is to rip this shit off you.”
He grabbed her upper arms and shoved her against the nearest wall so hard her head hit with a loud thunk. Bright spots exploded behind her eyes.
“There’s only one reason you wear a dress like this, and it’s to get men fucking hard. You fucking around behind my back, whore?”
“No. No!”
This had escalated so fast and gotten so out of control that she could barely process the bombardment of shouting, pain, and fear. Her brain scrambled to keep up, throwing thoughts like lifelines she couldn’t catch. “I just… I just wanted to look nice. For the party. That’s all.”
Her voice shook.
Her hands shook.
Everything shook.
Wrong thing to say, again.
He lifted his hand, and she flinched with a whimper. “Please don’t hit me again.” A choked sob left her as his palm slammed into the wall next to her head instead, close enough she could feel the rush of air against her ear.
“Shut the fuck up and don’t even think about telling me what to do right now. No woman of mine is going to go out looking like a damn streetwalker.”
Her heart raced, and she trembled against the wall as she shook her head. “N-no. Of course not. I won’t go. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She pleaded with her eyes, staring up into his menacing, stormy gaze.
You’re doing it again. You’re giving him complete control over you.
He grunted. “Jesus, you’re a dumb bitch.”
The pain of those words sliced deeper than his slap ever could.
As his words registered, shame as she’d never known washed over her.
She’d given this man exactly what he wanted—power over her. There she was, cowering, apologizing, and promising to give in to his demands when she hadn’t done a single thing wrong. Not a single thing to warrant this treatment.
She’d never been so low, and she hated herself for allowing it.
A small flame of defiance, the one she’d had her entire life but had snuffed out since meeting Jason, flared to life, deep in her gut, a tiny spark under a tidal wave of alarm. She was tired, so tired of stamping down her own wants, needs, and personality.
“S-stop it.”
He leaned in until their noses touched. “What the fuck did you say?”
Dark eyes she’d once thought she loved hovered an inch from hers, full of fury and hate. True hate.
Why was he here? Why did he stay with her, a woman he so obviously loathed?
Jason was an attractive man, or at least she had thought so at first. His behavior and personality made it difficult for her to appreciate his physical appeal as she once had, but women came on to him all the time.
He could easily find someone else. So why did he stay here, making her life miserable?
Why do you let him?
She dug deep, taking a breath. Enough was enough. “I said stop.” She squared her shoulders and stared him straight in his untrustworthy eyes. “Take your hands off me, Jase. I’m not dumb. I said I won’t go to the party. B-back off.”
Her voice might have trembled, but the words hit home. This was the first time since early in their relationship that she’d talked back to him, and even as her insides quivered, pride filled her chest for half a heartbeat.
“Oh-ho.” He let out a bone-chilling, sinister sound. “Little kitty dresses like a slut and suddenly thinks she has the claws of a jungle cat.”
He grabbed her throat and shook her against the wall.
The attack knocked the air from her lungs.
“I’ll put my hands wherever the fuck I want to,” he shouted as spittle hit her face, and she gagged and choked. “Wanna know why?”
Pressure built in her head until it felt like it would explode right off her neck. His hand squeezed until she feared her windpipe would collapse in his fierce grip.
She gasped and coughed, clawing at his hand in a futile effort to draw in a breath. Her nails scraped his skin, finding no give. Panic exploded full force now, a roaring in her ears that drowned out everything else.
She tried everything she could think of, thrashing, kicking, scratching, but nothing broke his death grip.
Her vision began to blur as a rushing sound in her ears made it impossible to hear, and rivers of tears streamed down her cheeks.
Her mother’s face flashed through her mind with the way she smiled when Beth came home for Christmas, the way she always smelled like vanilla and home. Her father’s voice, low and steady, telling her she could always come back. Always.
She’d never see them again. Never hug her mom. Never hear her dad call her baby girl.
This is it. He’s really going to—
Then, as suddenly as it started, the brutal pressure on her throat vanished.
Her legs sagged, but her chest spasmed as she sucked in air as quickly as possible. She coughed and gagged as the air rushed into her abused throat, each breath like swallowing glass.
“I asked you a fucking question,” Jason screamed in her tear-stained face. He grabbed her hair in a punishing hold, tilting her face up and stretching her aching throat, which he still held, but not to the point she couldn’t breathe.
She had no idea what he’d asked her, but she knew she needed to say something if she wanted any hair left on her scalp. “Y-yes,” she croaked. God, let that be the answer he was looking for.
“Because I fucking own you,” he whispered in her ear, making a chill run down her spine. His lips brushed her ear, intimate and vile. “I’m the one who puts up with your shit so I can put my hands wherever the fuck I want, whenever I fucking want to. Get me?”
“Y-yes,” she rasped. She tried to nod, but he had her head wrenched back, and her chin tilted up too high.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now get on your fucking knees. You owe me a damn apology.”
No.
She wanted to scream it in his face, but the only way to make the agony end was to give him what he wanted.
Survival over pride.
Every time.
Hopefully, she could keep from puking all over his dick.
As he pushed down to bring her to her knees, a loud bang reverberated through the apartment, rattling the wall behind her.
The door. Someone had opened the door.
One second later, a man in dark jeans and a biker cut ripped Jason off her and flung him across the apartment with a roar.
The sudden freedom was another jolt to her traumatized system, which she could barely process. Her legs buckled. If it hadn’t been for the wall behind her, she’d have crumpled to the floor.
As soon as Jason hit the floor, the biker pounced, landing punch after punch on her boyfriend in a way she’d secretly hoped someone would do for ages.
A flash of a back patch she’d know anywhere caught her eye.
This was one of her father’s men.
Shit was about to get really bad, really fast.
Deadly bad.
“Stop,” she tried to scream, but her rough voice barely made it above a whisper. The last thing they needed was a nosy neighbor calling the cops.
Her legs shook, then her knees gave out, and she slid down the wall. When her ass hit the floor, a fresh round of tears exploded from her eyes, and a sob welled up from the deepest part of her.
“Stop,” she tried again, this time with slightly more strength. If one of her father’s men ended up in jail for killing Jason while saving her, she’d never forgive herself. “Please,” she choked out. “He’s not worth it.”
The fighting stopped.
From his spot, crouched over her boyfriend’s limp body, a dark head swiveled her way, and eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time met her gaze.
Lee.
She’d had the hugest crush on him during her teen years when he’d had no idea she existed, and rightfully so.
She’d been way too young for anyone in her father’s club at that time.
But that hadn’t stopped her from watching him whenever he was around.
The way he moved with controlled, deliberate steps, like he was always aware of everything in the room.
The rare rumble of his laugh that made her teenage heart flip.
The time he’d caught her staring and winked, sending her scurrying to her room with flaming cheeks.
But she’d been an adult for years now, and the object of her teenage affection was in her apartment, seeing her at her lowest.
It was a humiliation she had no way to prepare for, yet at the same time, the second their gazes collided, she felt safe for the first time in more than a year.