He stood there with his massive arms crossed, looking like he could kill me with his bare hands.
Elena noticed, going over to tug his arms loose. He looked down at her, this heavily tattooed man with the personality of a bear, and visibly calmed. It might’ve been almost sweet, if everything else in my life wasn’t collapsing around me.
“How long was I out?” I asked.
Elena’s eyes moved away, not meeting mine. “A few hours.”
“Hours?” I snapped louder than expected, causing Elena to flinch and Hendrix to stiffen.Shit.
“You hit your head pretty hard,” he said, moving to stand behind his wife, his fingers stroking down her arms as if to calm her. “You’re lucky it wasn’t more serious.”
“It’s a lot to take in, I know,” Elena added softly. “But it’s going to be okay. Ryder always has a plan.”
I took a moment to digest the information.
“What if I walk out the front door right now?” I challenged.
“Then I’ll carry you back,” Hendrix answered as if the conversation was boring.
“No, he won’t,” Elena laughed, slapping at his arm. “Ignore him; he gets grumpy when he’s hungry.”
The motion shifted the light across her skin, and that’s when I saw them. Thin, silvery lines just below her collarbone, almost lost against the pallor of her complexion. Old scars. Faint.
My eyes drifted lower before I could stop them, finding more along her wrists. Those were slightly deeper, and although time had softened them, they still carried the unmistakable mark of survival.
Hendrix’s eyes narrowed as if waiting for me to comment, to bring up her past pain while Elena tugged her sleeves down, quick but not defensive. More like instinct rather than a reaction. Her smile faltered for half a heartbeat before she rebuilt it, gentle and bright again, as if nothing had happened.
An apology rose in my throat, but I swallowed it back.
I didn’t know her story, just like she didn’t know mine.
“Why is he doing this?” I asked, finally taking a sip of the tea. “Ryder said so himself that I was just a job that went wrong.”
“I don’t know,” Hendrix admitted with a shrug. “He’s never gotten emotionally attached to anyone he’s fucked before.”
Heat crawled up my neck, my cheeks burning.
But before I could fire back, Elena smacked his arm. “Hendrix!”
He didn’t even flinch. “Ryder’s a man who takes what he wants,” he said, voice low. “He destroys without thinking and then walks away like it was nothing.” His gaze met mine, almost cruel in its honesty. “Tell me, Violet, does this look like he’s walked away?”
Chapter 39
Violet
I pressed the pen harder against the paper, the blanket I’d stolen from the living room draped around my shoulders. My hand moved without thought, the ink tracing idle lines more for comfort than creation. Moonlight was my only light, and after a moment I realised I wasn’t drawing aimlessly at all.
Eyes stared back at me from the page, familiar, a hint of amusement caught in the shadows of his irises.
I crumpled the page into a tight ball and hurled it toward the trees, as if throwing it away could somehow take my anger with it.
It didn’t, of course. Nor did it travel far considering it was made of paper.
I never drew eyes. Or faces, for that matter. The fact that my subconscious had drawnhiseyes made it even worse.
The back door opened behind me, but I didn’t bother turning until the wicker seat to my right creaked under a new weight. I expected Elena, not her hostile husband.
“I swear if you threaten to carry me inside, I won’t be heldaccountable for my actions.” Ryder’s butterfly knife lay crushed beneath my left thigh, close at hand.
