Dan’s voice filters through the fog. “Rose?” His hands are still. His body heat surrounding me, but his touch is featherlight now. “Fiore mio, it’s me. It’s just me.”
But my mind won’t release me from the past.
His hand on my waist feels like a shackle. His breath against my ear feels like chains tightening.
“Rose—talk to me. Come back to me.” His voice cracks, full of fear I know he shows no one else.
But I can’t speak. Can’t breathe. All I can do is pray that Dan stops touching me so my mind can break free of this prison.
The sensation of the blade is too real, burning fresh over old scars. I see Magnus’s sneer, the gleam of his knife, the way he carved his possession into my flesh just for fun.
Another breath. Another sharp yank of the fabric.
I flinch, trembling uncontrollably.
“Rose!” Dan’s voice sharpens, panic tightening his words.
“Don’t wake the baby.” The old plea slips free, and my heart shatters all over again.
Maybe I should have woken Angelos all those years ago. Maybe I should have screamed. There’s no point now. There is no baby anymore.
Only ghosts.
35
DAN
She stops fighting me as if giving in to our fate, but her eyes glaze over, staring off as if she can see something beyond the door. Her voice is barely a whisper, fractured and broken. “Don’t wake the baby.”
My chest goes tight, my breath locking in my lungs as realisation dawns.
Her fists clench tight as she feels around, grappling with the wall, her fingertips dragging across the surface as though she’s feeling for something solid to anchor her.
“Rose, I’m here. You’re safe with me.”
I let the torn fabric fall to the floor, my hands trembling as I gather her against me, her body shaking violently in my arms. “Rose?” My voice cracks.
Her hand bangs against the light switch on the wall, bathing the room in harsh light.
My stomach twists at the sight. The scar on her shoulder glints silver in the glow. But that’s not the only one. No. My breath chokes in my throat as my gaze roams lower. Ragged, brutal scars hacked across her back like savage brushstrokes. Like someone carved their fury into her flesh and left herbleeding. I stumble back a step, as if the sheer horror of it physically knocks me off balance.
She slides down the wall, curling into herself on the floor and crawls to the corner of the room, her arms wrapping tight around her bare chest. Her fists stay clenched, white-knuckled, her whole body trembling as she rocks gently in place.
My warrior reduced to a fragile girl, haunted by a past that’s of my doing. I should have never left. Should have taken her with me away from all this. Should’ve married her the day I took her innocence and moved her to the wives’ quarters. So many should haves.
“Rose.” I drop to my knees, my hands trembling, scared to touch her. I’m helpless, watching the fierce woman I love cower in the corner like a beaten dog. “What the fuck did he do to you?”
A knot of rage burns my insides to ash. Acid coats my tongue. Every muscle in my body screams for vengeance. “This was no accident, Rose.” My voice is low, savage, barely human. I want to tear him limb from limb. I want to end him for every mark, every scar, every scream he stole from her throat.
My gaze locks on her, her glassy, unfocused stare. She’s not here. She’s gone, trapped in some living hell in her mind.
“Rose.” I say again, forcing the crack out of my voice, gazing into her glassy eyes, void of all emotion.
“Don’t wake the baby,” she whispers again.
“Fiore mio.” I cup her face, cradling gently, her skin ice-cold beneath my touch. “Come back to me.”
Her mouth parts as she gazes up at me, then looks around as if getting her bearings.
