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“W-what was happening to her?” Wren asked, voice shaky, sensing where this was going.

“Her husband was abusing her. He was isolating her from everybody she knew. He did that until I didn't have access to her. Whenever I brought this up with my mother on our very infrequent calls, she would brush it off and ask me not to worry. But I should have worried. I should have tried harder to look for her. To find her.” My voice shook, the memories winding through my mind like a viewfinder. “He beat her to death. That was what happened.”

“Oh, God!”

“I didn't know until it was too late. She woke me up, called me at two in the morning, crying, asking for my forgiveness and asking me to help her. But I couldn't.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I couldn't because by the time I got to her she was dead. Dead. I couldn't save her.”

“Knox.” Wren’s voice sounded urgent as she moved against me, forcing me to look at her. “Look at me. That was not your fault, okay? That was not your fault. You didn't know. You couldn't have known.”

I nodded, but my eyes were blinded by tears. It didn't matter how many times I'd heard those words, I didn't believe them. She was my little sister. It was my job to protect her. I should have pushed further and made sure she was safe. I shouldn't have let her out of my sight.

“Knox,” Wren cried, her thumb swiping the tears off my face quickly. Then she was hugging me, crying hard herself. “You're okay. It wasn't your fault.”

“I'm sorry,” I said when I managed to calm down. I didn't know what I was thinking, crying like that.

Wren pulled back, sitting on my thighs as she watched me. From up close, I could count her lashes if I wanted. Instead, I slipped my arm around her waist and drew her closer.

“I'm sorry,” I told her again. “I didn't mean to disrupt the atmosphere.”

“Knox, no. There's nothing to be sorry about.” Her fingers traced invisible lines on my chest. “I asked you about her, remember? I'm glad you told me. Thank you for telling me.”

“Wren, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you,” I said, surprising myself as much as her. “I thought you should know that.”

She smiled at me, gratitude etched on her face. “I know.”

“Derek,” I began, unsure if this was the right thing to ask. Wren stared at me, waiting. “Did he come close to doing that?”

“Twice,” she said with a grimace. “He beat me so bad, I couldn't move.” Anger tightened my chest. “And there I was thinking I could have a baby with him, that a baby would calm him. If my wish had come true, I wouldn't have survived. It would have killed me.”

I exhaled. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

“Nobody should.” She kissed my lips, so tender with her movement like I was fragile and she was afraid of hurting me. When she pulled back, blushing, I understood. She was offering me the same comfort I offered her.

“And Nay’s husband?” she asked carefully.

“Dead.”

If she was shocked, she didn't show it. She only pressed a finger to my pulse point as if to confirm I was alive.

“If it ever came to it with Derek,” I began slowly, searching her face, “would you want the same thing done?”

She seemed to realize what I was asking at the same time my fingers flexed around her waist while waiting for a response.

“Without a doubt.”

I smiled then, relieved by her response. The monster was going to die. He would've died anyway, but her approval would hasten the process—a cruel and gruesome death. I would cut off his dick and have them feed it to him.

Wren yawned, a few tears leaking from her eyes. When I chuckled, she reached up and flicked my head to tease her. Then she was settling against me, resting her head against my chest without a second thought.

The action gave me pause. She was safe with me. She wanted to be here. She trusted me. And with that new knowledge, I covered us with the duvet and slept together with her in that position.

Chapter Twelve

Wren

I was standing in the kitchen, holding my phone, when I caught myself smiling again. I'd been doing that a lot recently. Whether it was the post-sex haze or the glow on my face, I didn't know. Or maybe it was because for the first time in my life, I wasn’t worrying about anything.

I'd grown up in the orphanage, and I'd told Knox as much. He’d pulled me into him after the conversation, embracing me tightly like his arms were my safety net—they were. They’d been feeling like that recently.