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Something I never thought possible.
Callista saw past my name, my reputation, my anger, and to the man underneath it all. She called him out from the grave, let him see light and love again, calmed the raging beast inside him.
But now a rage I haven’t felt in years has bubbled back to the surface and there may not be any way to rebottle it.
Trembling, tugging her closer to me, I start up the stairs to take her to the bedroom and get her clean, my eyes automatically going to the huge grandfather clock ticking on the first landing.
The cameras are off, the ability to keep tabs on me cut, but I still can’t shake the feeling of being watched. After so many years of every move being assessed and analyzed, criticized and questioned, it will take time to truly accept that power is gone.
Along with my ability to watch the property.
Not knowing what or who is out there will keep me sleepless tonight—a problem I’ll remedy tomorrow. Right now, all that matters is the woman in my arms and ensuring she doesn’t continue to suffer because of me.
I bury my face in her hair as I carry her down the hall to my bedroom.
The two days she was gone, I missed this so much, but I don’t ever want her frightened and hurt in my arms again.
Since she arrived, it’s been an endless struggle to keep Callista safe and happy—one I have failed at miserably.
And though I’d love to keep blaming her father for putting her in this situation, the reality is that this has always been about me and my failures, not his.
This curse that has lived and breathed inside me, that has consumed every waking hour since that fateful night all those years ago, finally burst to the surface to hurt someone who only ever tried to help me.
She’s paying the price because I won’t let The Beast reign.
Murmuring an apology into her hair, I take her through the bedroom to the bathroom and flip on the light. She winces at the fluorescence and covers her eyes with her hand, turning toward my chest to protect herself from the brightness after being in the dark truck and house.
“I’m sorry, Beauty, but I need to get you patched up. I need to be able to see what they did to you.”
Her bottom lip starts to quiver, and tears track down her cheeks through the dried blood on the right side. She pulls her hand away from her face, and I slide her onto the counter, her legs dangling down, bare feet nowhere near touching the tile floor.
“They didn’t…” She swallows thickly. “I don’t think they…” Another sharp breath. “I don’t know. I was unconscious. He said they gave me some sort of sleeping medication. I didn’t feel like anything happened while I was out, but he kicked me down the stairs—”
Her rambling summary of events ends on a sob and draws a growl from deep in my chest.
I clench my fists at my sides to stop myself from lashing out and smashing a hole in the drywall.
The pure terror she must have felt.
Wondering what they would do to her.
Not knowing if anyone would find her and take her from that place.
I kneel in front of her, taking her soft, tear-stained face in my palms. “No one will ever hurt you again, Callista. I promise.”
She shakes her head as the tears come faster. “You can’t make that promise.”
Her lack of confidence in me hurts more than any injury I’ve ever sustained from a fist or a weapon, more than punishments Father used against me to try to harden me, worse than any of it.
“Look what happened because I let you go.” I stare into her shimmering eyes, every tear that falls from them one more blow that only solidifies my resolve. “That was a mistake. I told you it wasn’t safe. I just never thought…”
I underestimated my opponent.
It won’t happen again.
“Who was it?”
I knew she’d ask.
