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I sigh and close the space between us. We’ve been through a hell of a lot together over the years, but I’m not sure that anything I have to say can bring him any peace right now. “She just needs more time, Wy. You saw how her mother treated her, constantly making reference to her weight, making jokes at her expense like she wasn’t there. And the way that cunt held onto her, his grip a little too tight. This is a cycle of abuse she’s been in for a long time, and you know just as well as I do that those are hard to break.”
He nods and lets his head fall back against the chair. “Fuck. I know that.” He runs his bloody hand over his face. He watched his father beat his mother for years. He saw the cycle firsthand every single fucking day of his childhood. He knows it’s not as easy as just leaving a situation like that, no matter how easy it may seem to people on the outside looking in.
“She knows where to find us. We’ll keep an eye on her, make sure he doesn’t escalate, and if worst comes to worst, we’ll take matters into our own hands.”
He opens his mouth, I’m assuming to ask what I mean by that. We’ve already floated the idea of kidnapping her, and it’s definitely not off the table. But before he can get the words out there’s a tentative knock at the door.
Our eyes clash. Who the fuck would be here at this time of night? No one even knows where we live, and that’s by design.
I tug the Glock from the back of my waistband and move carefully through the house before taking a steadying breath and opening the door slowly. I keep the gun out of sight in case it’s just someone meant for our neighbors knocking on the wrong door, but what I find is so much worse than even I could have thought.
Leighton stands on the doorstep, her bare feet on the concrete, her face bloody and bruised, blood trickling down her bare legs, with a coat wrapped around her tightly. She trembles uncontrollably, her tear-stained cheeks shivering with each second that passes.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know where else to go,” she whispers.
I stare at her for another second before her legs give way. I lunge for her, managing to get my arms around her just before her knees hit the harsh steps.
She hisses out a breath at the contact, but there’s not much I can do about it. I lift her into my arms and carry her quickly into the lounge room where Wyatt is standing in front of the couch, his eyes blown wide.
“What the fuck happened to her?” He approaches us carefully, but Leighton flinches at his hard tone instinctively.
“Soften your voice,” I say as evenly as I can. “Pretty girl, I need to check your injuries so I can make a call about how to treat you. Okay?”
She nods against my chest, her brows pulled together with pain.
As carefully as I can manage I sit her in the seat Wyatt was in just a few minutes ago, but every move seems to hurt her. Little winces, hisses of pain, flinches with every touch. Without even opening her coat I suspect there isn’t an inch of her that isn’t bruised.
The emotions crashing over me are conflicting at best. Relief that she knew she could come to us, that shewantedto come to us. Anger that that asshole is still fucking breathing after hurting her like this. Fear that she’s hurt worse than I can help her with.
Wyatt crouches down beside the chair, his eyes moving over the skin we can see, and his eyes mirror my own. Worry is above all else, but Jason just signed his fucking death warrant. I will not have him breathing the same city air as Leighton after this.
“How did you get here, angel?” he asks quietly, pushing blood-soaked strands of hair from her eyes.
“A cab,” she croaks. “I ran for a few blocks before I saw one and luckily they stopped. I didn’t expect him to while I was looking like this.”
I clench my jaw to stop myself from reprimanding her. She didn’t do anything wrong. She ran from her situation and came to us as quickly as she could. I just wish that didn’t involve running while she was injured or getting in a cab alone while vulnerable.
“Can I take your coat off?” I nudge at the edges that she’s holding closed for dear life.
She nods, and I carefully peel the expensive fabric off her shoulders, but I’m not prepared for the sight that greets me as Wyatt helps me pull it from behind her.
She’s black and blue from head to toe, and naked as the day she was born. Angry bruises are forming over her stomach, her thighs, too fucking close to her pussy and dread washes over me as I meet Wyatt’s eyes.
Did he violate her?
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
LEIGHTON
Violent trembles vibrate through my body, but I don’t think I’m cold. I’m not sure what I am right now.
Scared.
Alone.
Relieved.
In agony.
