Page 16 of Battle Scars

Eli tries to interrupt him, but it’s no use. “Gabe⁠—”

“Maybe you need to know what disgusting things this person wants to do to your body before and after they kill you,” he snarls at me, his eyes locked on mine.

“I-I-I’m…” I stammer.

“Are you listening, fresa?”

“Gabe!” Manny roars, startling everyone around the table. “That’s enough, hermano.”

“I-I think I’m tired.” I rush to get the words past my lips. “I’m just going to go to bed. I’ll see you in the m-m-morning. Just leave the plates in the sink. I-I’ll get them later.”

If I thought he’d made me feel small earlier, I was wrong. Or maybe just not right enough, I don’t even know. All I know is that now I feel like nothing more than a discarded gum wrapper that he didn’t even bother to throw away.

I scurry upstairs, where I don’t even manage to get a reprieve. I can hear their hushed tones while I brush my teeth. Restlessness grips me in its talons and I can’t settle. Grime from my work day still weighs heavily on my skin, so I crank open the taps in the shower. I strip off my clothes, dropping them into the hamper, and then I step into the stone and glass stall of my fabulous spa shower. The steaming water hits me and washes the day away.

But everything that’s happened crashes down on me. The strain of the day finally takes its toll, and the emotions of it all—the danger, Gabe, competing against Bobby for control of DHR—just overwhelms me. I sink down to the stone shower floor and draw my knees to my chest just in time for the first sob to bubble up and out of my chest.

I run out of tears sometime after the water runs cold, though the temperature doesn’t bother me at all. It allows me to feel something real, even if it’s nothing but numbness.

I somehow manage to catch my breath and push myself to standing. I rinse off as quickly as I can, but my muscles still feel like I’ve been crawling through quicksand. I dip my head under the spray to rinse the shampoo out of my long dark hair when a dull pounding echoes in my brain. I’m going to have to take some ibuprofen before bed or I’ll wake up in the morning with one hell of a headache.

Weirdly, the pounding grows louder.

I pull my head out from under the water and the sound is coming from the bathroom door.

“What in the world⁠—”

“Adrienne,” Gabe thunders. “Open this door right now.”

I quickly shut off the water and pull a towel from the rack. I barely have it around me when I open the door.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

He takes one look at me, and his angry face softens. I probably look terrible.

“You’ve been in there for over an hour,” he explains. “I was worried.”

“Well,” I begin, drawing up my courage and gesturing to myself. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

“I’m not sure you are.”

Well, that’s rude. But nothing positive will come from allowing that to continue, so I do the only thing I can and press on.

The truth is, I’m not fine and I won’t be as long as Gabe and his team are here to turn my life on its head. Although maybe that’s not entirely fair either. They’re just jerks.

It’s the asshole who apparently wants to rape and kill me who’s turned my life upside down. And let’s not forget my dad who decided to Hunger Games his retirement from professional racing. Maybe I should just give it all up and move to some remote island.

“The room at the end of the hall is the guest room,” I tell him.

“I found it.”

“I’m sure you’ll be comfortable there.”

“Yeah,” he says gently.

“I’ll… uh…” My courage is beginning to flag. “See you in the morning.”

“All right.”