Chapter 33
I’m sobbing by the time I reach the gate. Instead of going to my apartment, I run straight across the cobblestones, instinctively pulled to the nearest exit.
Gripping the black bars, I close my eyes and press my forehead to the cool metal. I open them again when I sense a presence, the alarming sound of someone behind me.
I whirl, my chest tight as it builds a scream.
But it’s only Noah, worry stamped into the lines of his face. “Brooke.” He says my name softly, like he’s speaking to a fawn who might bolt any second. “Are you okay?”
Collapsing against the gate, I cross my hands over my heart. “I . . . I thought you were him.”
Noah goes rigid. “Who?” His expression rolls from concern to fury. “Ric?”
“Yes.” I shake my head. “No. I don’t know.” I picture Ric, but his image blurs with another’s. A sob rises in my throat, but I trap it inside with a strangled sound.
My lips tremble, my tears stream, and I know I’m in the midst of a breakdown. One that won’t be stopped.
I tug at the fabric of my dress, then the red spider’s mark on my stomach, before hooking my fingers in the high collar. Suddenly suffocating, I pull and tug. “I have to get this off. I have to get this off.”
Is this a panic attack? The squeezing chest and shallow breaths?
“Okay.” Noah’s hands fall on top of mine, grip gently. “We’ll get you out of that dress. Come on. I’ve got you.”
Arm around my shoulders, he leads me toward his apartment instead of mine. I don’t object or refuse. Folded into Noah, I already feel safer.
And I can’t be alone in my apartment right now.
One bump or creak or flickering light might shove me right over the edge.
He guides me inside and to a downstairs bathroom. “I’ll be right back,” he says, holding up a hand in a halting motion, as if I’ll try to leave.
As if I could.
My whole body is shaking now. The adrenaline from before drains from my system, leaving me a cold and quivering mess.
Hands on the sink, I look in the mirror. And see a madwoman staring back. Hair disheveled, eyes wide.
The first thing I do is unhook the dress clasp at the base of my skull, then I pull the zipper down a few inches. The tiny relief lets me take a deep breath.
Next, I pull out the clip and shiny pins from my hair, rubbing my fingers on my scalp before splashing my face with cool water. I have a hand towel pressed to my cheeks when Noah returns.
“Here. These will be too big, but they’re soft and stretchy.” He hands me a navy-blue sweatsuit.
“Thank you,” I say, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
I close the door and strip out of the dress. The sweats swallow me whole, but the soft fabric is soothing.
When I’m clothed again, I step out to find Noah waiting. He leans casually against the wall, but his expression is strained.
“I have water and paracetamol in the living room.”
He doesn’t say anything else, letting me be the one to decide where I want to go, what I want to do.
I amble down the hall, not speaking until I’m nestled securely in the corner of his big, cushy couch. True to form, the first words out of my mouth are an apology. “I’m sorry about that.” I lick my lips and keep my head down.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he says. “But I do. I should never have taken you into that nest of vipers.”
His hands are balled together, his knuckles turning white as he squeezes. “Will you tell me what happened?”
Fatigue and alcohol swamp me at once, and I don’t have the energy to keep my secrets. I don’t want to. Because they’re killing me.
So, I tell him everything. Starting with Luci and André disappearing from our hiding place in the catacombs, and me trying to find my way out. The door with the symbol.
And Ric with his date, engaged in foreplay.
I don’t tell him how Ric put his hands on me. That he might have done far worse if I hadn’t fought back.
A vein already pulses in Noah’s temple, so I minimize what happened. “Ric grabbed my arm, and he invited me to join him and the woman he brought tonight.” I glance aside. “If you know what I mean.”
“That asshole.” Nostrils flaring, Noah grinds the heels of his hands together.
“Yes. He is an asshole, but . . .” I pause, hesitant to say any more. Afraid to let go of the biggest secret. The one I’ve held inside for three years.
Only two other people know what happened.
Only Mackenzie.
And him.
“Tonight isn’t the first time Ric’s touched me,” I begin, “and what he did tonight was awful.” I double-swallow. “But what he said was worse.”
Noah waits in silence, his eyes never leaving mine.
“He mentioned a friend of mine,” I say. “Her name is Mackenzie.”
Noah doesn’t nod or speak or even move, but the shift in his eyes tells me he’s heard her name before.
“So you know she’s part of what’s happening in LA.”
He lifts a shoulder, explaining with a single word. “Yahoo.”
The last image I have of Mackenzie appears in my mind. It hits me like a blow, a one-two punch of guilt and pain. My eyes burn and tears start again.
I picture one of the savage headlines. “She isn’t lying. She’s telling the truth.” I put a hand to my stomach where nausea coils.
“And I should know.”