Ride the River (Riverrun Ranch #1)

Prologue

Grace

Seven weeks ago

Today is my sister’s birthday. The first since she died.

A cold shiver ran down my spine as the empty chasm inside me echoed with her absence.

I missed her fiercely. She’d been my protector, my idol, my everything.

Alexandra was only two years older than me and so brave.

She resisted everything our parents forced on us and fought to become her own person.

I was in awe of her, and her strength. She was fierce, strong, and unforgiving, and she loved to rock the boat every chance she got.

The number of times she broke “the rules” was astounding.

She never seemed to fear Daddy’s belt, Mother’s ridicule, or our brother Jordan’s fists.

She took it all in stride. It carved me up inside to know I’d never get to see her again, and I never got to say goodbye.

Stomping footsteps echoed down the stairs as my breath caught, and fear crept up my spine. The picture frames on the walls rattled, Cain’s foreboding presence making it seem like the entire house was shaking.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot,” I muttered to myself as the acrid scent of smoke filled the air.

I hastened to move the pan off the hotplate and into the sink.

Shoot, I’d zoned out and burned breakfast, just as Cain came down.

This was not good. This is where his mask came off.

Where the real Cain lived, and when the monster I’d married came out.

“What the fuck have you done?” he growled as he rounded the corner and stalked into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.” My voice wavered, sounding weak even to my own ears. Nothing would help me now.

“You useless cunt!” he bellowed as he grabbed me by the neck and slammed me into the fridge.

I clawed at his hand around my throat, trying to wheeze in a breath. “I’m sorry. It’s Alexandra’s birthday today. I got distracted.”

“You think I care about your slutty sinner of a sister? She’s better off dead. You serve me—”

“Don’t say that!” The words left my mouth before I could stop myself.

Silence descended, and it was deafening. Cain’s muddy brown eyes froze over as he squeezed my neck and moved closer. His breath smelled of stale whiskey and smoke even at seven a.m. It made my stomach churn.

“Did you just talk back to me?” His voice was devoid of a soul. Dread settled over me. I’d crossed the line, and I had no idea what he was going to do to me.

Mother and Daddy forced us to go to church and warned us about the devil, but right now, the devil was in front of me. A stony mask of fury distorted his features as he assumed the form of my husband. “You will not talk back!”

Before I knew what was happening, he pulled me from the fridge, spun me around and slammed my face onto the marble countertop.

The crack was still ringing in my ears as pain exploded across my face and in my eye.

I tasted blood, and my vision swam. My ears were ringing, nausea sweeping through me, making me dizzy as he held the back of my head to press me into the counter.

“I’ll show you what happens when you disobey me.

” He twisted my arm behind my back, causing pain to ricochet through my shoulder.

His fist connected with my ribs, forcing the little breath I’d been able to catch from my lungs.

He hit me again, and again, until I couldn’t breathe. Black spots clouded my vision.

Was this the end? Would this be the day he finally killed me?

“Cain…stop…please…” I panted, fighting to stay conscious as he ground my already injured face into the counter.

“Shut the fuck up!” He pulled my head back by my hair. My scalp burned as he leaned forward and snarled in my ear. His words turned my veins to ice as I heard his belt unbuckle and the lowering of his zipper. “Now do your wifely duty and stay quiet while you please your husband.”

“No, no, no. Cain…no…stop!” I wriggled and fought with all my might.

When he got like this, it was always bad.

I twisted and bucked, trying everything to get him off of me.

He wrenched my arm up higher, and my shoulder protested, but I knew if I didn’t escape right now, I might not survive.

I managed to hit him with my elbow in his gut.

He hissed out a breath. “You bitch.” He gripped my hair in his fist and slammed my face onto the countertop again. Pain like I had never felt before exploded inside my head, overwhelming me…before everything went black.

When I regained consciousness, I was face down on the kitchen floor; my whole body ached.

I tried to move, but nausea flared to life in my belly, and my ribs felt like they were on fire.

He’d likely broken them again. I strained my ears for any noise, any rumblings that Cain was still around, as I fought to control my breathing.

Cold silence greeted me. I turned onto my back, feeling wetness trickle down my cheek. Was that blood or tears? Probably both.

I pulled my dress down over my half-naked body, noting the scraps of my underwear next to me. Slowly sitting up, I knew what had happened, and I immediately felt shame.

A single tear, hot and sharp, carved a path down my cheek as a final, crushing weight settled in my chest. The air grew thick with the scent of my fear, each tick of the clock a hammer blow against my ribs, urging me to flee before he took my life.

Shivering, I realized everything had changed.

Sure, Cain beat me often, but I’d grown up with that from my father, so it wasn’t new.

The sad truth was I was used to it. But his behavior had escalated over the past few years.

He blamed me for not being able to get pregnant.

Which was my fault, but not for the reasons he thought.

His violence and vindictiveness had increased tenfold, but he’d never been as unmerciful and vengeful as he was today.

He’d never beaten me until I blacked out before, and he’d never done…

the other things so aggressively before.

As I shifted and winced, I knew there was likely damage down there, too.

I knew I had married a monster, but this morning the devil showed his face, and didn’t blink. I would never let Cain hurt me like that again.

As I cleaned up, I knew something was very wrong with my face.

He’d broken my ribs before, so I’d known how to take care of that injury.

But my eye felt like it was on fire. The whites of my right eye were clouded with blood.

Panicking, I tried to Google what to do, but my vision wouldn’t focus and kept blurring in and out.

I should go to the emergency department, but that would only make things so much worse if Cain ever found out.

I was terrified, and had no idea of what I should do.

There was no other choice but to call a number I’d only reached out to once before during my marriage.

When Cain broke my ribs the first time, I couldn’t breathe, and he’d forbidden me from going to the emergency department.

As soon as he left for work, I’d made the call.

I’d found Doctor Ophelia Calstrad before I married Cain and secretly had a Mirena IUD put in.

Cain didn’t deserve to be a father. I’d known from the beginning it would be too dangerous for me and any baby I may conceive.

She must have had a sense of my fears and situation, as she’d given me her private number and encouraged me to call if I ever needed help in the future.

I dialed the number I’d memorized when I was eighteen and waited.

“Doctor Calstrad, how can I help?” Her authoritative voice rang through the line.

“Lia,” I whimpered as I broke down and cried.

“Grace, is that you?” she asked.

When I’d seen her the second time for the broken ribs earlier in the year, she’d put all the pieces together and talked with me for over an hour about all my options.

She’d given me a spark of hope that there was a life away from Cain, that I could escape one day.

Alexandra’s death had been the catalyst for my planning to get away from him.

Of course, none of it went to plan, but those two women had given me the hope and the motivation I’d needed to plan my escape.

Even after doing my best to regain my composure, my voice still trembled when I spoke. “I need help.” I wheezed as my ribs protested. “Can I see you?”

“Of course. Come to my house as soon as you can, and I’ll meet you there.” It was not yet eight a.m. on Friday.

“What about your practice?” I questioned, hating that I was taking her away from other patients who needed her.

“My colleagues can cover it; don’t you worry about that. Are you okay to drive?” Her voice was calm and in control.

“I think so,” I answered, but paused. Was that even true? I didn’t know, but I had to get to her. “It’s safer if I come to you. You know, no one can see us together. It’s best I come to you.”

“Okay, just be careful. How long until you arrive?” She knew I lived in Wyoming, but thankfully, she was just over the border into Montana.

“I can be there in about an hour, I think,” I answered. “Thank you.”

“You know it’s no problem. See you soon. Be careful.” She hung up, and I made my way to my car.

The drive was stressful as my vision continued to waver, making the road in front of me blur every now and then, but I was slow and cautious, and thankfully was turning onto her driveway safely.

She ran the practice with her husband and best friend, who were both doctors.

I made my way down her drive to the small house behind the family practice, Ophelia was already standing on the stoop.

“Grace. Oh, my word,” she gasped as she helped me out of my car. “What did he do to you? Let’s get you inside.” She helped me up the steps and into her quaint cottage. Guiding me over to her dining table, she helped me sit and grabbed me a glass of water. “Small sips. Tell me what happened.”

And so, I did. By the end, I thought I was going to be sick.

“Mind if I take some photos?” She hesitated. She’d asked to take photos last time, and I’d allowed it, even though I wasn’t sure what help that’d be, but the hesitation in her actions made me nervous. “And I think I should do a SAEK. Would that be okay?”

“What’s that?” I asked, already knowing the answer but needing time to process what she was suggesting. I knew what happened, we both did, but having evidence of that truth was another thing entirely.

“A sexual assault evidence kit, which will allow me to collect semen, DNA and assess the damage he’s done. We don’t have to use it, but along with the photos, it’s good to have. It can give you options.” Her voice was pleading.

“Why me? Why are you so insistent on helping me?” I asked.

She glanced away, her professional mask slipping as pain swept across her features. “You remind me of my sister. She was just like you.”

Was…she was like me.

“I’m so sorry. What happened to her?” I asked, not wanting the answer, but needing to hear it. I needed to see what was likely to be my reality if I stayed any longer.

“Her husband killed her. She’s the reason I do what I do. I couldn’t save her, but I vowed to help every other person I could in a similar situation.”

“Thank you,” I whispered as more tears welled in my eyes. I wasn’t alone. “What do I need to do?” I asked and let her do everything she recommended. I would survive this. A fire lit inside me, and I vowed to escape by any means necessary.