I shake my head hard and clamp my hands over my ears as if it’ll somehow block out what happened by force.
I won’t go back.
“Brielle, baby. Open your eyes. Please. You’re safe.”
There’s fear in his voice. Real, breaking fear, and that’s what finally cracks through the crazed haze going on in my mind.
Troy never sounded like that,but Emris does.
I open my eyes, and a sob rips out through my lips. He pulls me tightly against his chest, and I grab fistfuls of his shirt, holding on like he’s the only thing keeping me anchored in this moment... He doesn’t loosen his grip, not even for a second.
My vision clears enough to find Archer still standing by the door, one hand braced against the wood like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. When he sees me calm down, he slowly closes the door behind him as if the sound might break me again.
Emris slowly moves his hands along my back, and I melt into him, every ounce of strength I had draining away. He whispers reassurances against my ear, words I barely hear, but desperately need. My eyes grow heavy.
I’m just so tired.
A few hours later,Emris leads me into the pristine bathroom. I feel dirty.
He lets go of my hand and heads to the walk-in shower, and turns the water on, testing it to make sure it’s the perfect temperature. Once it’s warmed up, he comes back to where I’mstanding. I haven’t looked at myself in the mirror, and I don’t want to. I keep my back to it and my eyes on the ground, arms wrapped around my waist.
Emris touches my arms, and I flinch. He doesn’t move his hands, but he goes slower as he motions for me to take the jacket off. It drops to the ground, and now I’m left in what Susie dressed me in. We don’t talk as he takes the clothing off of me, and they join the jacket on the floor.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asks, his hands holding my arms loosely.
I think I want some time alone, so I shake my head, still not making any eye contact with him. I don’t know what he’s feeling or what he went through himself, but I need a moment to process.
“I’ll be right outside the door if you need anything, okay? Just shout.” He presses his lips to the side of my head before he lets go of me and leaves the bathroom.
When I’m alone, it feels worse than I expected. The silence gives my thoughts too much room, but I try not to listen as I step under the spray and close my eyes, letting the liquid run down my sore body.
A sharp sting flares on my side, just under my right breast. My breath catches and I look down—I forgot about the brand. My hand flies to my mouth as a sob breaks free. A small, desperate part of me had hoped it was only a nightmare, that I’d wake up and it wouldn’t be there.
But it’s there.
Scabbed on my body is a date, one I’ll now know by heart. The day of the auction, and beneath it is a single letter—P.
A permanent reminder of what was taken from me. A permanent reminder of Peter.
My strength gives out all at once. I don’t feel the floor rush up as my knees buckle, but before I can hit it, Emris is there catching me as I fall.
“I got you, baby,” he says, sitting on the floor of the shower with me in his arms. He rocks us back and forth as I cry.
“He—He...” I try, but I can’t get the words out.
“I know, baby. I know.” He moves my hair out of my face as I drop my head to his clothed chest that is now soaked. “Brielle, look at me,” he whispers, and it takes me a second, but I do as tears mix with the water.
“You survived that. You made it out, baby. No matter what happened, you got out. We will cover it up with whatever you want, and it’ll be a reminder of how fucking strong you are.” Emotions are swimming in Emris’s eyes, and they’re so strong, I have to look away. I might’ve gone through a lot, but so did he. He needs me and my support just as much as I need his.
I wrap my arms around his waist and he grabs the back of my head. “I love you,” I whisper into his chest, never wanting to let go.
“And I love you.”
I wake up a while later,unfamiliar shadows fill my vision, but before I can panic, there’s warmth next to me. His fingers gently run through my damp hair, soothing anything amiss inside of me.
I look up at him and take in the light stubble on his jaw and the small smile on his lips.
“This doesn’t feel real,” I whisper, noticing that his eyes are red—either from crying or lack of sleep. Maybe both. I blink my eyes closed, trying to control my emotions.
