Page 61 of The Quiet Witness

Kate sighed heavily, glad the touch between them had disappeared. And still, the escape had given her a dopamine hit. It rushed through her nerves, lighting her up from the inside out.

She watched Lucien shake his head to himself. Mumbling something about her being a fast learner. Her head spun, he changed with a deft flick of a coin. One moment he was praising her, teaching her self-defense, the next he… let other men touch her. Unwanted hands all over her. What had happened after their walk with Denise had kept her up for nights on end. The feeling of hopelessness following her into her waking hours. It was the prime reason she was here, sweating on the mats. Not to be a victim ever again. But she felt it, knew in their training together, that Lucien would bring her to the edge more often.

His hand entered her view once more, long fingers waiting. She took it for the eleventh time that day. A thought ran through her mind, it wouldn’t do much. She knew that, but he deserved it. She let him pull her up, using the leverage to drive a hard right fist into his abdomen.

Her knuckles tingled from the impact. But Lucien merely arched an eyebrow, shooting her a curious glance. “What was that for?”

“For what you did… during the traffickers’ attack.”

He angled his head like a fox. “Right, what did I do?”

“Nothing.” She fought to keep the fury from seeping into her voice. No luck there.

Lucien corrected her. “At first, nothing.” He regarded her with a strange look, as if something clicked into place. Spreading his hands wide, he said. “Good, makes sense. Now, what else?”

Her composure, which she’d clung to with such a vengeance, broke. Enough, she’d had enough. Her knuckles struck out. “For not letting me go.”

Her human boxing bag interlaced his fingers above his head, nodding. “Keep going.”

She did. Lefts, rights, the pain in her hands flared to life, warmth blooming beneath her red and rubbed raw knuckles. The punches kept raining down on Lucien. Spiteful words turned into throaty gasps.

The second she dropped her hands, he jumped to life. “I didn’t tell you to stop. Keep going.”

She braced on her knees. ‘‘I-I can-”

“Keep going!”

She wavered.

“I’ve got something to help you out.” He let himself lean against the wall. Tilting his head, he added. “The liver tends to hurt the most.”

Hurt… after all she’d thrown at him. He hadn’t stiffened once. Her lips widened into a dangerous smirk. Sweet, acidic.

“Yeah, figured you’d like that.” He flicked her against the cheek. Not hard, taunting. “Now Kate! Give it the best you’ve got.”

She straightened from the demand in his tone. Cheeks aflame. She struck with another right. “I’m not a cat you’re stroking. Harder, louder!”

Her fists beat on his abdomen. “You fucking bastard!” Smack. “I didn’t deserve this!”

He spoke up. “Did you deserve it when you were younger?”

“No.” She sobbed, gasping. But she couldn’t stop. Something had taken over. Steering her in its place.

“What didn’t you deserve?”

“None. Of. It.”

She hit his liver. Barely noticing that he winced.

“Not the beatings, not that he. Tried. To. Force. Himself. On. Me.”

“Louder, harder!” But he’d flinched. Flinched at the words she flung out.

“I didn’t deserve to live in their house of horror. To be treated like the gum below their shoes.” She fought for air. Lungs burning. “To lose my life because of what happened.” The car accident, glass breaking around her ears. The world tilting around her as the car kept flipping and flipping. Her family dying around her. The sole survivor she’d been.

Luck. Lucky that she had survived, they’d said. But she had never felt blessed. Not when she was dropped into a family that never cared for her. Lifted their hands not to caress but to bruise. Sharpened their words to hurt, never to comfort. And then came the thing that had made the bucket overflow. A gunshot splitting the silent air, white and brown fur smudged with dirt, and blood blossoming out from the wound. Screams. Her own. Hoarse and filled with pain as she clung to her sole companion. His loving eyes turned to hers. A swift lick on her hand. A final goodbye.

She sucked in air. Dizzy. Searching for something to hold onto. She found it in his hand. Clasped gently but firmly around her arm. His thumb tracing that familiar circle over her slick, reddened skin. She squinted through the blur in her eyes, blinking to remove the sweat that had trickled in. Hiding the tears that were closer to the surface than laughter.