Page 61 of Heartless Lord
Standing shoulder to shoulder with the man who destroyed me. The monster who still haunted my nightmares.
The pair shared an easy smile, and something inside me broke. The contents of my stomach threatened to make a reappearance.
My vision tunneled.
I whirled around so fast, I slammed into an older man in a white tux. “Sorry, excuse me! Sorry!” The walls seemed to press inward, the music warping into something distant and distorted.
I couldn’t breathe.
If I stayed one more second, I was going to collapse right here on the marble floor.
All my years of therapy went to shit, and a complete meltdown threatened to drown me as I ran. My vision blurred, and darkness seeped into the corners as long-buried memories surged to the surface.
Four Years Ago
It had been a week.
Seven days of showers so hot my skin turned red. Seven days of scrubbing until my arms shook.
And still I could feel him.
His hands.
His breath.
The weight of him pinning me to the seat.
No amount of soap could wash that away.
Stan’s hands were permanently imprinted in my skin, branding me for life.
Papá thought I’d lost my mind.
I hadn’t left my room in seven days, pretending to be sick just so I didn’t have to face anyone. Killian had been blowing up my phone the entire week, but I’d kept it to short text replies. I couldn’t bear the thought of talking to him. My best friend. Not after discovering Stan’s car at his house. Yes, he was the only one I really needed, but he was also the last person I could confide in now.
Thanks to my new best friend,Google, I’d researched everything I could about the scumbag Stanford Davenport. The millionaire attempted rapist was squeaky clean. I’d called the police and hung up at least a dozen times since Saturday. Not only was this man uber rich and well-connected, he was a freaking U.S. senator.
No one would ever believe he’d tried to abduct and rape me. Me... a poor, random girl from San Carlo, Arizona. Hell, I didn’t even believe it.
But every day that passed, the guilt ate away at me. Not for me, or what I’d endured, but for the girls out there that could become his next targets. Every day that he walked free put them in danger.
The guilt would consume me, rotting away my insides until nothing good remained. I couldn’t live like this. But how could I tell Killian?
All week he’d texted me about how great this asshole was. How he was madly in love with his mom and how happy she was. After only a month of dating, he was already talking about taking them on a trip to the east coast.
My chest tightened, my ribcage becoming too small to hold in the swirl of anxiety, fear and disgust. Stan was a wolf in sheep’s designer clothing. What if he attacked Killian’s mom? I couldn’t just sit around here without saying anything. Fuck! I dragged my hand through my wet hair, tearing at the ends.
I had to do it. I had to tell my best friend that his mom’s new boyfriend was a sick monster who preyed on innocent young girls.
I forced myself to the edge of the bed and reached for my phone on the nightstand. Scanning the screen, I found more texts from Killian. Each one brought a smile to my face, then another stab of pain. I hated hurting him, hated disappointing my best friend. His dad had been such a piece of shit, and I knew he was desperate to have a decent father figure in his life. Too bad Stan wasnotthat man. He deserved to know. And that son of a bitch deserved to be punished for his sins.
Jabbing my finger into the call button, I held my breath. One ring, two, three... My knee bounced up and down, my heart kicking at my ribs. If he doesn’t answer by the fourth ring, I’ll just hang up.
“Hey, Red, where have you been?” Killian’s smooth drawl sent a wave of warmth through my shredded insides the minute I heard it. “You feeling any better?”
“A little,” I murmured.
“Good, because I’m coming over.”
