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“You know,” Kane said in his doctor’s voice. “You’re right. We’re wasting our time here.”
“He’s sent that to everyone.” Wolfe’s eyes glinted, watching my every move. “Everyone knows you dragged her to that room and you held her down while your men violated her. You’re dead after all this is done. You get that, right, motherfucker? You’re…fucking…dead.”
I froze as every vile sin I’d ever committed came to take its pound of flesh. I’d known one day they’d all come back and drag me into the hell I deserved. I closed my eyes. But not this…please, God, not this.
“What’s going on here?” Helene slowly asked.
I slowly opened my eyes, staring at the bastards.
No one looked her way…they couldn’t.
My words were husky and raw, burning all the way down. “You don’t want to be in here, Trouble.”
She stepped closer. Please, for the love of God, don’t touch me. I’d break. I knew that. I’d fucking shatter into a million pieces with the simple brush of her hand and weep like a goddamn child.
But she didn’t touch me. Instead, she stepped closer. “If I’m going to be the topic of conversation, don’t you think I deserve to at least be in the room?”
“You don’t want this conversation, Helene,” London answered. “Trust me.”
She snapped her gaze toward him. I knew that look…by the way he winced, so did St. James. “Trust you? You might be my sister’s husband, London. But please don’t overstep our friendship.”
He visually blanched, adjusting himself before he nodded.
“Now.” Helene turned back, eyeing the cell in Kane’s hand. “Someone explain to me what’s going on.”
“We have evidence that Riven attacked you while you were at The Order.” Baron started. “That he…that he and his men dragged you into a room and brutally assaulted you. We came here to find out the truth.”
She stilled, not even her chest rose. There was nothing but silence, until finally. “You think…you think Riven would do that to me?”
Baron shifted uncomfortably.
She wrenched her gaze to London. “You? Do you think he did that to me?”
“There’s a video.” London murmured and shook his head. “One that shows Riven’s face as the attacker.”
A sound escaped her, low, wounded, devastated. She closed her eyes for a second before opening them. “I was raped at The Order. I was dragged into a room and held down on a table. But it wasn’t Riven who did that. He—” she met my gaze.
I clenched my fists, desperately needing to tear something apart. The world, yeah, the world would do. Anything so she didn’t have to relive that fucking night once more.
“He saved me,” she finished. “In more ways than one. Coulter is the man who attacked me. He is the one you should be interrogating. Oh, that’s right,” she said coldly. “You can’t…because I killed him.”
Jesus, she was strong. Stronger than I’d ever seen in my entire life.
I remembered that day after she’d been hurt at The Order. The one when she walked into the cafeteria and looked in the eyes of every bastard who’d hurt her, right before she spit in Coulter’s face. They couldn’t break her then. But they were still trying.
They were still goddamn trying.
“Don’t you want to see the video?” Atley Lawlor asked carefully.
She snapped her focus toward him. “If you were raped and it was doctored to look like someone you loved did it, would you want to look at it?”
He stilled, then slowly shook his head. “No, I wouldn’t.”
She gave a slow nod, then turned to London. “You know us better than anyone. For you to think Riven or any of these men would do something like that is pretty goddamn low, London, even for you.”
“I didn’t mean—” he started.
She lifted her finger, stopping him cold. “You did, and you damn well know it. Now,” she swung that savage glare back to the diamond brothers. “I don’t know you and I’m assuming you don’t know me. If you did, you would’ve come to me first, instead of going after those I love.” She gripped the table and leaned down. “Now, I hope we’ve cleared up any confusion you might have.”
