“You’re asking me to face him.” Her voice is steady even as the tears fall. “To stand in front of the man who—” She stops. Swallows hard. “To pretend I’m sorry. To pretend Iwanthim.”
“Claire, you don’t have to—” I start.
“I know.” She cuts me off, holding up a hand. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
She paces to the other side of the room. I can see the war happening inside her. The fear. The anger. The weight of what she’s being asked to do.
“Every time I close my eyes, I’m back on that yacht. I can taste blood in my mouth. I can feel his hand in my hair.” Her voice cracks. “And you’re asking me to walk up to him andsmile.”
My chest cracks open watching her. I want to hold her. To tell her she never has to see that bastard’s face again.
But then something shifts.
Claire stops pacing. Her spine straightens. When she turns to face us, the tears are still there, but so is something fierce.
“Those other women. They’re living with the same nightmares I am. The same shame that shouldn’t evenbeshame becausehe’sthe monster.” Her hands ball into fists at her sides. “And if I don’t do this, he just keeps going. He keeps hurting people because everyone’s too scared.”
I watch Claire’s chin lift. Watch the fear transform into something braver.
“Then I’ll do it. I want Theodore caught and put away for good. And maybe if we get him on tape, the other women won’t have to be so scared anymore.”
My heart swells so big it might burst through my ribs. This incredible, terrified, brave-as-hell woman is choosing to face her worst nightmare to protect strangers.
I’ve never fallen so hard so fast in my entire life.
“They might come forward,” Ms. Beaumont says with a nod. “It would be good for the case. But let’s take this one step at a time, okay?”
“You’ll need to call or text him. Whichever way you reached out the first time.” I cup Claire’s cheek, letting her relax against it for a moment.
She leans into my touch, and I feel the slight tremble still running through her. But she’s not backing down.
God, she’s magnificent.
“Alright,” Claire reaches for her phone on the coffee table, “let’s do this.”
It was well past midnight when we arrived at the underground parking lot I had suggested as a meetup. Claire now stands in the center, shrouded in darkness thanks to the less-than-functional lights. Ms. Beaumont is in place behind a car and pole so she can record out of sight.
I’ll admit I’m impressed by the equipment Ms. Beaumont has available for this recon mission.
It’s not at the front of my mind, though. No, that’d be the nervous energy rolling off Claire in waves. She’s clearly freaked, and I hardly blame her.
She’s supposed to come face-to-face with the man who assaulted her, pretend to give her apologies while making it seem like she’s attracted to him, and not draw attention to me or Beaumont.
It’d be a lot for anyone.
My own nerves are a different beast entirely. As I scan the parking garage, checking sight lines and exits for the hundredth time, a cold sweat breaks out on the back of my neck.
What if I miss something?
The thought slithers in before I can stop it, bringing ghosts with it. Sand and gunfire. My teammates’ faces. The moment I realized the ambush was coming—a split second too late.
I couldn’t protect them.
My hands shake slightly, and I clench them into fists to make it stop.
What if I fail again? What if something happens to her because I wasn’t good enough?
I look at Claire standing there in the dim light, so small and so fucking brave. The fear threatens to swallow me whole.
