Page 99 of Grace

“Not you, either.”

“I never wanted to hurt you, Grace. I had to choose, and I chose the lesser of two evils. I bore the consequences—the hate in your eyes, the sadness in your heart.”

Tears sting behind my closed eyes.

“And Mr. Miller’s death?” Mr. Miller’s cries echo in my mind, trapped. My stomach turns when I think about the past—about how pain spread through my jaw after he hit me, how his body pinned mine down, holding me in place, pressing me into the mud. The way he tore my clothes. The way his soft dick hardened between my legs. Bitter bile rises in my throat.

“You saved me,” I whisper. “But then… when I needed you most, you weren’t there. Even though I was calling for you. I wanted you to come. To tear those vermin off me.”

I start to tremble.

My eyes fly open and meet his—flashing with cold, threatening anger.

“You sent me to jail.”

“You deserved it,” I say without hesitation, without a flicker of guilt.

“I deserved it.” He tucks a wet lock of hair behind my ear. “Neither of us can change the past, but maybe I can make up for my sins in the present.”

“Maybe it’s too late.” I slip out of his embrace and shut the bathroom door behind me.

My wet, cold clothes cling to me like a second skin. They hit the faded tiles with a slap as I peel them off one by one. The cold has sunk into my bones. It feels like my flesh is a pincushion, being stabbed by a thousand fiery needles every second. It’s four p.m., but all I want is a hot bath, my pajamas, and a dumb movie to shut my brain off. This day has completely drained me.

I look myself in the eyes in the mirror and brush back the strands of hair stuck together from the rain.

“I deserved it.”

“This is the last time, I promise. I’ll never hurt you again.”

“No one can hurt you.”

My skin flushes with shame, heat crawling up my neck, when I think about what I wanted to do last night.

Heat burns inside and out when Chase opens the door and our gazes meet in the mirror. His eyes are inviting—mysterious and repulsive at the same time, even now.

I set the hairbrush down, let out the breath I’ve been holding, and turn around. My gaze drops to Chase’s masculine hand as he extends it toward me.

I don’t want to think about the past, about all the horrors. I want to be free. He’s the key to my freedom, because when I’m with him, I don’t have to keep secrets. I don’t have to be ashamed of myself. I don’t have to hate myself.

This feeling is dangerous—like scorpion venom. Still, I put my hand in his. A tingling rushes through my body, and my mouth parts slightly. I can see it in his deep brown eyes that this innocent touch affects him, too. The freckles on his nose look darker, sharper.

He pulls me across the apartment. I flip off the light and close the door. I don’t look back at Cyrus’s place—I just follow the beast in front of me, blindly.

Chase

What’s that saying Lucas likes so much? The ends justify the means. How fitting.

I didn’t want to become like him, but he shaped me with manipulation. He always hit where it hurt most. And I used what I learned against Grace. I changed her—reshaped her. But only as much as necessary.

People are so naïve.

They always believe what they want to be true. They let themselves be fooled if it gets them what they want. All they end up with are illusions. And illusions are dangerous. They can cost you everything. They can trap the mind so easily. It’s much easier for Grace to blame Lucas for what happened. It’s easier to see him as the monster instead of me. Because deep down she wants to believe I’m a good person. She thinks I’m just a puppet in Lucas’s childish little games. But it’s all a trick.

That’s why she believes Lucas had Cyrus’s mom beaten up. It was ridiculously easy to break into a defenseless old woman’s house. She wasn’t asleep yet. She was shuffling around in the dark, smoking, talking to her dead husband. She thought he’d come back to haunt her. She conjured up a ridiculous illusion because she sensed my presence.

I didn’t want to be rude, so I waited until she finished. Then I stepped out of the darkness. The cigarette dropped from her mouth. She tried to run, but I raised the iron pipe and brought it down. The old hag’s skull cracked. She let out a muffled moan, then collapsed on the floor. Dark red blood oozed from her head. I didn’t want her dead—I just wanted to warn the cop. He’d stuck his dick in the wrong place. Because I know he did it even though Lucas forbade him to.

The guy is defying us. He’s dancing with death. He’s naïve, too, because he has no idea what the Baker brothers are capable of. But he played his cards right. That’s why he stole a kiss from Grace in the grocery store. That’s why he kept holding her hand. He managed to steal precious time for himself.