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Christ, she was killing me. “Honey,” I managed on a grunt as I pushed the strands of hair from her face that had fallen from her messy bun. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know that,” she confessed quietly. “At least now I do. It took me a long time, though.”

I wish that was all she had to say, but I knew better. I fucking hated it. But I knew. “Keep going.”

“When I started to see him for what he really was, I pushed back. He didn’t like that. I wanted to take back the person I was before, and he wanted me to stay who he’d turned me into. That was when the hitting started.”

Fuck. Squeezing my eyes closed, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against hers as the fire burned quick and bright through me, filling me with a kind of rage I’d never experienced in my life. What I felt when Cora was murdered was something totally different. This . . . this was primal, visceral. And so goddamn painful.

“Baby.” It came out in a groan as the ache filled my chest. “But you got out,” I said, more to myself than to her. It was a reminder that I needed. “You got out.” She was safe, alive, and in my arms right now. Right where she was meant to be.

“I did.” She nodded, two more fat tears filling her eyes before breaking free and dripping down her face. “But not before he raped me.”

There it was. The one thing I thought but was so desperate to be wrong about.

“I told him I was leaving, and he lost it. He . . .” Her voice broke, her throat bobbing on a thick swallow. “He forced himself on me, and afterward, he beat me until I passed out. When I woke up, I went straight to the police.”

“Fuck, honey.” My fingers threaded into her hair, trying to get as close as possible. “You’re so strong. You know that? So fucking strong.”

She sniffled, but her eyes brightened as she gave me a small smile. “I try to be.”

I shook my head vehemently. “No, baby. Nothing to try. You are. You fought to get out, you got help, you made it. My fingers clenched gently in her hair. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

She sniffled and let out a little giggle. “You have no clue how much it means to hear that from you.”

“I mean every word. But I need to know, where is he now, Little Flower?”

“Prison,” she said, her voice hard. “Where he’ll rot for a good, long time.”

Pulling her in, I pressed my lips to hers and wrapped my arms around her tightly, needing to taste her and hold her after everything I just heard. “Like I said. Fucking strong.”

“What happened to Angela today, it brought all of that back. Seeing what he did to her⁠—”

“Hey, now. Don’t do that. I don’t want you thinking like that. She’s going to be okay, and she will be because she had you beside her, holding her up when she couldn’t do it herself. I know you, Iris, and you’ll make sure she stays standing.”

“Damn right I will. And if I ever lay eyes on⁠—”

“You won’t, baby.” She froze, her big eyes blinking. “I went and found him before I came here. He’s in lockup and will be on the first bus to county tomorrow morning. If I have anything to say about it, he won’t breathe free air for a long time.”

Her expression grew fierce. “Damn straight he won’t. Or I’ll find him and castrate him.”

That got a smile out of me. A real one. First one since this morning when I was texting with Iris. “There she is,” I whispered. “God, you’re even more beautiful when you’re all fierce and fiery.”

“I’m glad you think so, because if it happens, I’ll need you to bend the law to keep me out of prison.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “Won’t be necessary. If it comes to that, I’ll help you bury the body.”

She blinked. “You know, I probably shouldn’t find that attractive, but screw that. You’re even hotter to me right now.”

“Good to know.” I kissed her smiling lips, knowing down to my bones, that I would never get tired of her taste. “Now, there’s something else I want to know.”

“Yeah?” she asked as she toyed with my hair, dragging her fingers through it like she couldn’t help but touch it. “What’s that?”

I looked away from her for a second to glance around the space. “What is all this?”

She giggled and hopped up to her feet. I ignored every instinct to pull her back and climbed to my feet as she tugged on my hand.

“This is my passion,” she said, swinging an arm out to encompass the whole building. “My real passion. I sell houses because it helps pay my mom’s medical bills, and because . . . well, I’m good at it. I don’t mind doing it.” She paused, shadows moving across her eyes. “I didn’t use to, anyway. Today definitely changed that. But this is what I love doing. I find these perfect little treasures at garage and estate sales. All over the place, really. I find them and restore them. Most of the stuff inside are pieces I’ve restored.”