Chapter Thirty-One
Rygaard
With her head hung low, I slowly circle around to see the damage done to my beautiful girl. A gasp slips from my lips the second I see them, faint track marks lining her arms, fresh and old bruises scattered across her skin like a map of pain.
Without thinking, I reach out and trace a few of the marks around her neck, disappearing into her bra.
“Oh, my sweet Presley…” I choke out, tears gathering in my eyes, my voice threatening to break.
I scoop her into my arms. “Who the fuck did this to you? Give me their fucking names, and I’ll make sure it never happens again. ”
The feel of her, warm and fragile against me, is short-lived.Gathering all the strength she can find, she pushes out of my arms, meeting my gaze dead-on. “What makes you think I want it to stop?” Her words slice deeper than any blade.
My face falls. “You… like what’s being done to you?”
She runs a hand along the needle marks in her arm, her voice hollow. “Clearly, I don’t feel anything when they do whatever they want to my body.”
“They?” I repeat, my stomach sinking. She nods. “If you’re high, how the fuck are you enjoying them beating you?”
“Oh, I’m not high for that part,” she says casually, like it’s normal. “And the beatings? Those only happen when I do something I know I shouldn’t.”
“You hear yourself right now?” My hands shake with rage and heartbreak. “Are you high right now, Presley? Because no one, no one , could enjoy this.”
“Say what the fuck you came here to say, Rygaard.” She sing-songs it, a cruel edge in her voice.
“Time’s ticking. He’ll be back soon.” She bends down to pull her pants back on, but I stop her.
“Don’t.” Even now, even broken, she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I trace a faint scar under her belly button. “What’s this?”
Her wild eyes lock onto mine, and for a second, her mask slips, pain flashing deep within her. “You have your secrets,” she says coldly, slapping my hand away. “And I have mine.” She grabs her clothes, tugging them on roughly. This time, I let her.
“Tell me how to fix this, Prez,” I beg. “Because I can’t stand back and watch you kill yourself.”
“Why? Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” She smirks like she’s just uncovered some dark, cosmic truth. “Oh, what’s with the long face? You didn’t think I’d find out you’ve been back for awhile and just now show up?” She shoves me, weak but furious.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I force the words out.
“My father kidnapped me after I left for college. Locked me away because I loved you. Because I wanted you. He gave me an ultimatum: forget the girl, or spend the rest of my life mourning her.” I let out a bitter laugh.
“I didn’t see through his bluff. I fought, Presley.
I fought for you, kicking and screaming.
” She opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her with a finger on her lips.
“I know it doesn’t make up for the time we lost. But maybe the letters will. ”
“What letters?” she whispers.
“I wrote you one for every single day we were apart. Thirty-two hundred letters. Give or take.”
Her lips part in that little ‘O’ shape I’d memorized, and fuck, I want to kiss her. “You wrote me…” she says, like she can’t believe it.
“I did.”
Tears slide down her cheeks. For the first time in too long, there’s a crack in her armor.
She starts to say something, but her phone rings. She grabs it, turns toward me, pale, scared.I mouth, ‘put it on speaker.’ Shockingly, she listens. “Hello?” she answers.
“What the fuck took you so long, Presley?” The voice on the other end makes my blood boil. “I was in the bathroom. Dropped everything when I thought my period started,” she lies smoothly.
“You’re not lying to me, are you, Prez?” He says it, my nickname for her.
The fucking nerve.
“Please, don’t call me that,” she says quietly. “And no. I’m not lying.”
“Oh yeah? How do I know that?”
“Because you’re probably already on your way back to check.”
There’s a long pause, then a low whistle. “You sure know me, baby. Throw on something nice. I’m taking you out tonight.”
I want to rip his throat out.
“You got it,” she says, voice trembling. “I’ll jump in the shower.”
“Good girl. I’ll grab you a little something on the way. Sorry about last night. And this morning.”
When she hangs up, she turns to me, still trembling. “Before you say anything, I don’t want your pity.”
“You won’t get it,” I snap. “Because you chose this.” I slam my palms down on the counter. “Why, Presley? Why? Money? Drugs? Fear? Tell me why you stay!”
She cries, voice cracking. “I stayed because he was my supplier. I stayed because I was broken after the- after I, ” She cuts off, hiccupping.
“What is it, Presley?” I move closer, desperate to understand. “Please. Talk to me.”
“Because you weren’t there!” she screams. “Keifer was. And now… I’m stuck. I don’t know how to be who I was. I’m the drughead whore everyone talks about. But did anyone tell you why, Rygaard? Did they? ”
“No,” I whisper.
“You need to leave.”
“That’s not happening.”I pull a card from my wallet and shove it into her hand.
She flips it over, reading the words: Markus Architecture. Shock flashes across her face. “I knew your middle name was Markus, but…”
“I own it. Built it from nothing. For you. For us.” I step closer, voice low. “I don’t care who you’ve fucked. I don’t care about the drugs. Those things can be fixed. You can be saved. But I’ll be damned if I let that asshole keep hurting you.”
Her lip trembles, but she hardens again. “You’re not my knight anymore, Rygaard. I’m not the same girl you left behind.” She shoves me toward the door.
“You’ll have your wish tonight,” I say, stepping out. “But tomorrow, Princess? He’s dead.”
It’s a fucking promise.