Page 32 of The Devil’s Lair

My chest tightens. It’s as though my ribs are crushing my lungs. I’m right back in the moment where everything changed. Where I made the decision that, no matter how long it took, I had to find a way out of there, if not for me, then for Isla.

“What happened?”

“He yelled that if she didn’t shut the fuck up, she’d be next.” My gaze tracks to my sweet angel, skipping alongside Daisy, her pigtails flying in the wind. “He got what he wanted. She hasn’t spoken since.”

“Jesus, Rebecca. Fuck.”

“Yeah.” I shrug, not because Isla’s silence isn’t monumental, but because I’m so terrified she’ll never speak again that a shrug is all I can manage. “I miss hearing her voice. Sometimes, when I close my eyes and concentrate hard, I can hear her, but every day the memory grows fainter.” Hot tears rush to my eyes, and I look away.

“I’m so fucking sorry. No child should have to suffer that.”

I swallow hard and look toward Isla once more. She’s crouched in the grass, hands buried in Daisy’s soft, white fur, her face tipped up to the sun.

“Have you thought about therapy? For her and for you?”

“Often. Marcus would never have allowed it, and even now he’s gone, I can’t afford it.”

“I can.”

I shake my head. “You’re doing so much already. I might make an appointment with our GP. See if they can put me on the waiting list.”

“With how overstretched our public mental health services are, it could take years for an appointment. Think about letting me help you. Please.”

“Okay.” My voice is small. I hate the idea of charity. At the same time, I know it’s what Isla needs. I do, too, but she comes first. Maybe I could take Tobias up on his offer for her.

“I’ve never seen her so relaxed,” I say, my voice quieter than a whisper of wind. “She likes it here.”

“She’s safe here,” Tobias says. “You both are.”

When I glance back, his gaze is on me, steady, reassuring, honest. I’m not ready to step out of the shadow of doubt just yet but, maybe one day, I will be.

Chapter Eleven

TOBIAS

Work has kept me occupied all week, which means I haven’t seen much of Rebecca or Isla, yet in every quiet moment, the horror of what Rebecca told me on the walk with Daisy comes rushing back. If Marcus La Salle wasn’t already dead, I’d murder that bastard with my bare hands. To abuse a woman is monstrous, but to threaten to harm an innocent child, and to allow that child to watch as her mother is beaten, is truly fucked up.

My lawyer is already on the custody case, although during our conversation yesterday, he said this won’t be as quick a fix as getting the charges dropped against Rebecca for gun possession. The La Salles are making trouble, but in the end, we’ll win. I’m willing to play by the rules for now. If this situation doesn’t resolve itself within a couple of weeks, I’m not above playing dirty to get what I want. Not to mention what Rebecca and Isla deserve—peace and freedom from harm.

A tap on my office door makes me look up. My assistant Bea pokes her head inside. “Doc’s here to take your stitches out.”

“Hallelujah. They’ve been driving me mad. Send him in, would you?”

“Sure. Oh, and your father just put a meeting in the diary. Wants to see you right after Doc’s gone.”

I frown. “Did he say what about?”

“Nope. It’s mandatory, though.”

“Is everyone going?”

She shakes her head. “Just you.”

Don’t like the sound of that. “Thanks, Bea.”

She backs out, and my doctor enters. It takes a few minutes to remove my stitches, and after a lecture about still taking it easy and not overdoing things, he packs up his bag and leaves.

I drop Xan a text. It’s highly unusual for Dad to call a mandatory meeting unless he has bad news. If anyone knows what that could be, it’s my eldest brother. I’d rather turn up already briefed if possible.