Pain was familiar.Pain I could handle.One of the benefits of enduring years of Victor’s abuse, I supposed.I had no choice but to function with bruised ribs, broken bones, and scars that would never heal.
With one long inhale, I pushed up to stand.My knee almost gave out, white heat shooting through it, but I caught myself on the nightstand before I fell.Cato jumped to his feet and let out a single sharp bark, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
“Shhh,” I hissed, panic snaking through me.My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out everything else.
Except for the sound of footsteps thundering down the hall, fast and unyielding.
I shot my gaze toward the door, my breathing growing ragged as the sound grew closer and closer.Then the door flew open, and Henry’s broad physique filled the frame.
His dark hair was rumpled, his eyes shadowed like he hadn’t slept in days, his face lined with worry.
Rage surged, burning hotter than the pain.I grabbed the vase from the nightstand, roses and water spilling across the hardwood floor as I fought to maintain my balance.Everything was uneven and blurry.I felt like I was on an unsteady boat that kept rocking back and forth.
“Careful, Ariana.”He raised his hands in surrender, his voice low and calm.“You’ll hurt yourself.”
“I’ll take my chances.”I tightened my grip on the vase, as if it might help steady me.
“What do you plan on doing with that?”
“I don’t know.But I’m not going to do nothing while you sell me to the Bratva.I saw the money.The messages.I know everything.You were paid to abduct me.”My voice cracked, but I forced it louder, stronger.Refused to let him see how much his betrayal hurt me.
I’d survived years of being my husband’s punching bag.Yet this hurt more than Victor’s fists.More than his knife cutting into my skin.More than his cigarettes branding my flesh.
For a brief time, Henry made me feel something I hadn’t in years.
Hope.
And it had all been a lie.
“If you’ll sit back down, I’ll explain?—”
“Explain?”I barked out an incredulous laugh.“That’s what you’d like, isn’t it?For me to sit still, shut up, and let you keep me prisoner.”
“You were never?—”
“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret,Mr.Fontaine,” I cut him off, his name venom on my tongue.“I’m done with that.Done with letting some man decide what happens to me.Done lettingyoudecide what happens to me.”
He flexed his jaw.“Ariana, if you’d?—”
“Remember when you called me a warrior?It’s probably the only honest thing that’s ever come out of your mouth.Because that’s exactly what I plan on being.I may not be as big or as strong as you, but I have survived fucking hell.”
“I know.I?—”
“And I won’t stop fighting now.Not for you.Not for Victor.And not for the Bratva.I’d rather?—”
“I’m not working for the fucking Bratva!” Henry shouted, his voice raw.Explosive.
I startled at the force of it, snapping my mouth shut.
His chest rose and fell like he’d just gone ten rounds, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists.
“I was watching your house when I saw a man break in and take you.I followed.Intervened.Thatman was Bratva.It washisduffel you found.Hisphone.Hismoney.”
The vase trembled in my grip, the weight of it weakening my arms.But I refused to show any hint of weakness.
“Why should I believe you?”I shot back.
He pushed out a long sigh, raking his hand over his face.He looked wary.Exhausted.Like he’d been fighting a war for days.
