“Events?”
I turn my gaze away from him, focus on nothing specific, and whisper the words, “I was raped.” Words I had only just told my brother.
“Come again?” The harshness of that thick tone draws my attention back to him. The anger isn’t just visible but radiating from his body. “Did you just say someone raped you?”
“Yes.” The word barely leaves my lips before Shadow launches off the swing, making me grab the seat to keep from falling forward off as well, and tosses the file down as he starts pacing.
“What the fuck?” he roars, pacing the short length between the railing and the house in front of me. “Who did it? You report it?”
Shadow’s questions surprise me. A part of me likes that he’s so angry because I could tell it was on my behalf. Another part thought he wouldn’t believe me.
“You believe me?” I blurt out, watching him closely.
Shadow comes to a halt, turns toward me, eyes gaping. “Why the fuck wouldn’t I? If there’s one thing I remember about you, it’s that you were never one to lie. You don’t have a poker face, and you sure as hell wouldn’t come up with something like that to accuse others of. That’s not how you were raised.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” I agree.
“Did you report it? They get who did that to you?”
“I know all the parties involved in it, and yes, I reported. Before you ask, nothing came of it. Those I told didn’t believe me.”
“The fuck,” he snarls and retakes his seat on the swing at my side. “You said parties, it was more than one?”
I swallow, feeling my throat thicken as I think of that day. Why I’m telling Shadow, I don’t know, but I can’t seem to stop myself from giving him the details of that night. More than I’d given Maddox. I tell him about Cameron filming the whole time, laughing while her boyfriend and his friends took turns violating me. I even admit that I’d been a virgin when it happened.
“Give me the names,” Shadow demands when I finish.
“What?” I blink and shake my head. “No, I’m not going to do that.”
This time, he leans in and commands, “Give me their names, Della.”
“Why?” I whisper.
“Because those fuckers need a lesson in fucking with what’s mine.”
Did he just say . . .
“Yours?” I’m not his. We’ve barely had a pleasant conversation without me snapping at him and being a bitch. Surely, he must have said that by mistake.
Shadow’s eyes lock with mine, and I swear his stare can penetrate mental shields like lasers through metal.
“Maybe not yet, but you will be.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, utterly baffled by his response.
“Means since I left you at the hospital, you’ve consumed my thoughts. It didn’t matter what the hell I was doing, you were on my mind. I’m pissed with you over the fact I told you to call me when you left the hospital. You could’ve reached out to me even when you were there.”
Whoa.
“I’m learning I’m not good at communicating, worse when I’m in a foul mood, I’m a complete and utter bitch.”
“You’re not a bitch, Della.”
“I can act like one,” I point out.
“Doesn’t make you a bitch, though.”
“If you say so,” I mutter and clear my throat. “Back to what I was saying, I don’t see how I’m yours.”
