9. Lance
9
LANCE
I jolt upright, adrenaline flooding my veins as Quinn screams. And I can’t take it any longer. I have to help. Throwing my covers off, I yank my jeans up over my hips and pad across the hall to intervene.
If I hoped to get a wink of sleep by staying at the Kings, I was wrong. But just the thought of leaving Quinn’s house tonight solidified my decision. I couldn’t bring myself to go when I know she’s suffering. I’ve never seen her so afraid.
In truth, I’ve never seen Quinn scared of anything.
So seeing her fall apart tonight nearly broke me.
And as I lay awake into the early hours of the morning, listening to Quinn’s fitful sleep, it drove my fury toward the Agosti men to new heights. Every whimper, every soft plea for them to stop slowly felt like they might drive me insane.
Half a dozen times throughout the night, I got out of bed, ready to go check on her. But I wasn’t sure that having another man wake her in the night would make her feel any better. So I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth as my nerves slowly frayed from the sounds of her haunting dreams.
The scream is what launched me past my breaking point, and as I enter her room, my heart twists. She’s kicking at her sheets tangled around her legs. And though her eyes are open, confirming she’s awake, they’re wide with fear, her face pale and tense. She’s shaking like a leaf, her arms struggling to hold her upright as she trembles visibly.
Her head snaps in my direction, her gaze locking with mine, and tears well in her eyes, making them shimmer.
Hesitating at the doorway, I debate whether I should go in to comfort her or if she needs her space. “Are you okay?” I rasp, my tension making my voice sound strained.
Quinn nods, but she looks so shaken it makes my chest ache.
“It was just a nightmare,” she says, her voice quavering.
I pause, wanting to stay with her but sensing that her quick assurance might mean she would rather I go. And after a painful moment of debate, I give a curt nod, then force myself to turn and go.
“Wait,” Quinn says, stopping me in my tracks.
I look back over my shoulder and meet her tear-filled eyes once more.
“Would you sit with me for a little while, just until I calm down?” she asks, wiping at her cheeks.
And when she flinches, my stomach knots because I know the bruise on her cheek must hurt.
I leave the door open as I enter wordlessly and pull up a chair beside her bed. The tension in my shoulders eases slightly to be near her, and I lean forward, bracing my elbows on my knees as I watch her. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
I could never bring myself to talk about my past, but I’ve heard it can help when someone’s faced a trauma like Quinn’s. And I feel so useless already, if what she needs is a listening ear, I’ll stay as long as she wants.
Quinn releases a heavy breath, her shoulders relaxing, and a shaky smile twitches at the corners of her lips. “If you don’t mind.”
I scoot closer, showing she has my full attention, and relief floods through me when she gives a startled laugh. It’s soft and entirely too brief, but it gives me a glimmer of hope that she might be okay.
Then her smile falls, and her gaze drops to her hands as she folds them in her lap. “I dreamed that they found me again, and… h-he said he wasn’t done with me. That he would…”
She swallows hard, unable to finish her sentence, and she shakes her head. Then she releases another tense breath. When she starts again, she jumps the tracks, going into the heart of her trauma to talk about what actually happened.
“They took me to an abandoned warehouse—the men who kidnapped me. I was supposed to be meeting up with Kayla and Ellie, but those men snatched me right outside the mall. I knew I screwed up as soon as he grabbed me.”
“Who?” I say gently, though a sense of urgency fills me. If I can get a name, I’ll track the bastard down.
But Quinn shakes her head again. “I never caught his name. The one who helped him was called Vinny.”
“That’s a good start,” I assure her, locking the name into my memory bank. It’s not a lot to go on, but hopefully, I can gather more details as she talks. And tomorrow, I’ll start hunting them down.
Quinn nods, her brow furrowing, but rather than voicing whatever thought made her frown, she resumes her story. “They put something over my head and dragged me into a car. I tried to keep track of the turns, to have a general sense of where we were going, but I couldn’t keep up. And I just kept thinking that this was it. They were going to kill me, and I was so stupid not to take Killian seriously…”
She falls silent for long enough, I wonder if she’s going to continue, and all the while, I hate the way she’s trying to take responsibility for what happened.
“It wasn’t your fault,” I say gruffly, my fury toward her kidnappers rising until I feel I might just explode.
Again she nods. But her words don’t reflect complete agreement. “I just feel so stupid. And I was so scared. I think Vinny drove—he was in the front seat at least. But the other one sat in the back with me. And he kept taunting me, telling me all the horrible things they were going to do to me. H-he threatened to chop pieces off of me and send them back to Killian to send a message…said he would r-rape me and drop me off on Killian’s doorstep…”
My stomach plummets, my blood turning cold as the threat hits too close to home. They all but dumped her on the front porch. No doubt they would have if the gate guard had let them in. “Did he…?” I can’t bring myself to say the word. The knot in my throat is too thick to force it past. And icy devastation freezes in my chest because the doctor didn’t check to see if she’d been violated when he examined her.
“Rape me?”
I nod, unsure if I’ll be able to hold onto my sanity if the answer is yes.
“No, it was just a threat.”
The enormity of my relief is dizzying, and I shift in my chair, struggling to stay still.
“I think he got off on frightening me though. And I’m not sure how far he would have taken it if Vinny hadn’t told him they were just supposed to keep my injuries artificial.” Quinn shudders, goose bumps rising on her skin, and she closes her eyes as a memory takes over. Then they snap open once more to find me.
“He used one of those hard, riding crops on me, and he laughed every time I screamed.”
Tears start to stream down her face once more, and I would give anything to banish them. It’s pure agony to watch Quinn cry, but I know better than to interrupt because she’s processing. And I desperately hope that telling her story will help her work through the trauma.
“He mocked me, tormented me—Vinny did too. But the guy who beat me seemed to like it when I begged him to stop.” Quinn hiccups again, and her eyes drop to the bed as she struggles through a fresh wave of emotion.
Blood boiling to hear what she endured, I can’t stand it any longer. Reaching out carefully so as not to frighten her, I take Quinn’s delicate, talented hand in both of mine, willing her story to be over because I don’t think I can take another second of her pain.
She gasps, her lips parting, and her eyes lock on our hands momentarily. Then they travel to my face. And a soft smile warms her eyes, bringing a hint of color back to her pale cheeks.
“I’m okay,” she says more confidently. “Or I will be. I think talking about it helped.”
God, I hope so because her nightmares were agonizing to listen to.
“Thank you, Lance,” she murmurs. “For listening.”
“Anytime.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze, intensely aware of the purple ring of bruises around her wrists.
“Would you…stay until I fall asleep?” she asks tentatively, her cheeks flushing a healthier shade of pink.
I know how hard it must be for her to ask. Quinn’s about as independent as they come, but to help her sleep, I would do just about anything.
“Of course.”
Relief washes across her features, and her fingers wrap more snuggly around mine as she settles back into her pillows, getting comfortable once more. I keep her hand in mine as her eyes drift slowly closed.
And even after her breathing grows slow and steady, I can’t bring myself to leave her side—not when she finally seems to have found a moment’s peace.
I don’t know how long I sit up watching her.
But the next thing I know, someone’s tapping my shoulder. And I lift my forehead from its resting place on the edge of her bed as I wake with a start. I’m still holding her hand, and it takes me a moment to realize the light filtering into the room means it’s morning.
I slept through the night at Quinn’s bedside.
Turning my stiff neck, I find Killian standing beside me. He gestures silently for me to join him in the hall. I carefully ease my hand out of Quinn’s before I follow, wondering if Killian’s going to be pissed for finding me in her room again. It’s strange to think that was only yesterday.
It feels like so much has happened since then.
Still, I feel the need to explain myself. “She was having nightmares,” I say as soon as the door closes behind me.
But Killian just waves my words away. “I need you to do something for me. I know it won’t be your favorite assignment, but I can’t trust anyone else to do it.”