Page 150 of Unorthodox

I touch her face, marred with bruises, turning her head to me. She shifts in my lap, so she can see me, her legs stretched out on the couch.

“Last night.”

I watch her swallow. I watch her wonder why I’m pretending to care.

But I’m not really pretending.

“Are you okay?” I ask again.

She averts her gaze, and I tip her chin up.

“Don’t look away from me, Addison.”

Reluctantly, she meets my eye. “I-I don’t really want to talk about it, Max.” She hiccups softly, then clamps a hand over her mouth, her cheeks flushing pink.

I take her hand in mine, bring it down to her lap. “Did they hurt you?” I glance at her throat. Remember how her shirt was cut off of her body. Her shorts, too. Hot anger floods my veins as I think about whatcouldhave happened, and I remind myself of a horrible truth. That’s not the worst that’s happened to her. And it won’t be the worsttohappen.

And for a moment, for the first time since she’s been here, I imagine it. The impossible.

Leaving this town with her. Disappearing to the ends of the earth.Protecting her.

But Oliver’s screams ring in my mind. I see him on his knees, the desperate way his body clenched as he tried to stop the swaying that comes so naturally to him. I hear him grunt with pain. His nose break beneath my father’s fist.

I failed him.

I can fix it.

I just have to give her up.

And I won’t risk her head. She might become a slave, but she’ll live. She’lllive.

She holds her gaze on mine. “Not much,” she says, finally answering my question.

I swallow down the lump in my own throat. “Not much?” I thread my fingers through hers and I know she’s shocked at the touch. I know she’s probably thinking about all the waysIhurt her.

She furrows her brow but doesn’t look away from me. “He touched me,” she admits, sounding despondent.

“Touched you how?” I try to keep the anger from my tone, but my words come out clipped and her eyes widen as she tries to yank her hand from mine. I hold her tighter.

She shakes her head. “Max, I really don’t want to—”

“Touched you how?”

“He put his hands on me.” She takes a shaky breath. “Where he shouldn’t have.”

My blood boils, and I think about his nose cracking under my foot. I think about stabbing him in the groin, and how I should have cut his dick off instead.

“Hey,” she says quietly, tugging on my hand. I realize I’m staring at the wall and turn my head back to her. “It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me.” She offers me a soft smile with that twisted confession, and I feel sick in this moment, realizing that she isn’t trying to goad me.

She’s a little tipsy, otherwise she might’ve never spilled that truth.

“Addison.”

She smiles again, tracing her thumb over the back of my hand. I grip her hip tighter, pulling her closer. “It’s okay, Max.” She sighs, a soft, quiet sound. “It probably won’tbethe worst thing that’ll ever happen to me.”

My stomach churns. “You know if I had a choice, if I could do something else…” I trail off, because I’m not even sure I believe myself.

“It’s not personal,” she repeats my words to her from the soundproof room as her eyes flick up to meet mine, “it’s just business, right?”