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Prologue
Nathan
“Nathan Wilder, you are under arrest for assault and battery. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you,” the officer beside me explains in a harsh tone while his partner roughly pulls my arms behind my back and proceeds to cuff me.
I don’t say a word, still foaming at the mouth that the bastard is still breathing.
Assault and battery.
He’s fucking lucky I’m not being cuffed for murder.
If I had spent just two more minutes with the fucker, that’s exactly the charge I’d be facing.
I have no doubt that I would have killed him with my bare hands given the opportunity.
My bruised bloody knuckles are a testament to how close I had gotten to doing just that.
Butshepulled me away.
My sweet voice of reason.
The only person who, with just a whispered plea, could have broken through my madness.
So I stopped.
I let the fucker live, even if only within an inch of his life.
I stopped forher.
I couldn’t live with myself if she thought me an even bigger monster than the fucker whose face is so disfigured that his own mother won’t be able to recognize him anymore.
“Nate!” my girl shouts hysterically from behind me as Boston PD continues to push me down the hall, towards the elevators. “Where are you taking him?! Nate!”
I look over my shoulder, finding my ray of sunshine lost in utter misery.
Even now, with her raven hair in disarray and her black mascara running down her perfect apple cheeks, she is still a sight to behold.
“It will be okay, baby. Don’t worry,” I tell her softly, needing to console her in any way I can.
My base instincts beg me to wipe the tears streaming down her cheeks. To kiss those cupid bow lips one more time. To bite down her luscious bottom lip until pleasure takes away any pain she might be feeling from watching me being taken away in handcuffs.
“Nate—”
“Move,” the officer orders, pushing me forward and away from my love.
Away from my Lottie.
“Stop! Please! Let him go!” she half orders, half begs.
I don’t even feel the sting of the cuffs slicing through the tender flesh of my inner wrists, the misery in her voice too much for me to bear.
Even though the men in blue are in a hurry to get me into their cop car to drive my ass off to jail, I try to delay the inevitable, by dragging my feet just so I can be with my girl a little longer.
“Baby, go home. Call Piper. I don’t want you to be alone right now,” I supplicate.
“Home?” she cries. “Youaremy home. I’m not going to leave you. Not now. Not ever. So don’t even try and tell me otherwise, Nate Wilder, because I’m not having it,” she says, wiping away the tears that are blurring her vision. “Where are you taking him? Which precinct?” she demands, giving the officer that is currently manhandling me the side eye.
“Your friend here is being taken to District A-1,” one of the police officers informs.
