Page 128 of Grace

“What did he do?”

“He had my brother beaten half to death in prison—twice.”

“An eye for an eye,” I reply, grinding my teeth.

A dark, arrogant smile curves his thin lips.

“That’s called taking the law into your own hands. He did something he had no right to do. He did something wrong.”

The old, damp wooden door creaks open behind me. Clean, balmy air spills into the room.

My gaze snaps to the door, and the tears I’ve been holding back spill down my face as I run to Chase and bury my face in his neck.

“He said…” I stammer.

“I can imagine what he said,” he replies, grim, looking over my head.

“I was afraid,” I admit. Chase’s fingers dig into my flesh. Lucas flashes him a devilish grin. I wouldn’t be surprised if he were the devil himself.

“I won’t keep you any longer. I think you’ve got quite a few things to talk about. Just don’t forget what I told you,” Lucas says, tipping my chin up with two fingers to make me look into his eyes. He’s darkly handsome—and cruel. The worst part is that I’m drawn to this duality. That’s why I could fall in love with his brother.

As soon as he leaves, I step into my old, dark, scary room. The sight of my bed and those grim walls brings it all back—memories piercing my soul like a blade left in the fire until it burns, to hurt even more. A chill runs down my spine as my fingertips brush the damp, moldy wall. My lips tremble. I can’t hold back the hot tears spilling down my cold skin. In that moment, nine years of pain and grief devour me, tearing my heart out as it barely keeps beating through the anguish.

I take another step inside.

The dirt—built up over the years on the cold concrete, layer on layer, the way pain built up in my heart—grits against my bare feet. I never thought I’d come back here. Here, where the walls muffled my screams, where the concrete drank my blood. Where my innocence and purity were taken from me by force. By him. The one who lashed my back with his belt, cutting burning, bleeding lines into my skin. The one who tore out my teeth.

The memories make me shiver. A phantom ache flares in my jaw.

I glance over my shoulder and take in Chase’s chiseled features, my gaze gone cold. His face is gorgeous and monstrous at the same time. Raw. I can’t even be angry with him for the horror of the past, because he never had to peel off a pretty mask to show me who he was. From the first second, he never pretended to be one of those guys who asks your parents for permission to take you out, then walks you home. I never doubted he was complicated—like an equation only a few people can solve, and even then, only with effort.

My stomach clenches as disgust and anger churn together inside me. Fire spirals through my veins, filling my chest. Chase meets my hard stare, defiant.

My eyes sweep over the drawings plastered on the walls like posters, adding another layer of horror to what happened here. Every sketch is a perverted, distorted version of me. They’re lifelike, but they have no life. Chase didn’t use color. But even if he had, he couldn’t have given my eyes the riot of colors that makes them alive.

“Go away, Chase. I want to be alone.”

It’s been a long time since I last wanted to be alone, but now I need solitude. To think about my life. To see things clearly. To pray for my family and beg their forgiveness—especially my sister’s, whose murder I played a role in.

Chase doesn’t leave me alone in this nightmare. He steps closer and threads his fingers into my hair. He pulls me against him and takes a deep breath, inhaling my scent. He was never a man of words. He loves in silence, healing with his touch, caressing me with his eyes.

I wrap my arms around his waist and cry everything out against his shoulder.

“Why? Why me? You never answered that. I want to know. I want to understand. I’ve been thinking a lot about what Nikky said—I keep replaying the exact words she threw in my face. I’ve been searching for an answer for a long time, but I haven’t found one. Maybe you can tell me why it’s me everyone wants.

This sounds a little arrogant, but it’s true.

“Maybe people love what they can’t have. They become obsessed with it. They’ll chase it until they get it—or give up before they do, because they get tired. It isn’t just in your case. The same thing can happen with dreams, desires, or even simple everyday things like cars.”

He wipes away a fat tear with his thumb and tucks my hair behind my ear.

“Logical, yet inconceivable.”

“Look deep inside yourself, Grace. Go back in time and picture us there—can you imagine our first date? What would we do? Where would we go?”

I get lost in the endless whirlpool of his flat, dark eyes. Finally, I can get an answer about what’s happened over the past few years. But if I want answers, I must search my soul. I drink in every one of his words, every pause, because I can feel him opening up. He wants the bright riot of colors to return to my eyes, to replace the rotten black butterflies in my stomach with living ones. He wants the nightmare to end—for good. Chase… wants to give me back my life—the life he took from me nine years ago.

I close my eyes and try to imagine our first date, but nothing comes. Going to the movies, getting ice cream, taking an afternoon walk—none of it works. He’s simply not that guy.