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The angry, red cut—caked in dried blood—on the side of her head.
The jagged gash on her bottom lip, still oozing red.
The streaks of blood staining her chin, neck, and chest...
All ripped my heart in two.
Unable to contain the volcanic rage erupting inside me, I threw back my head and unleashed a thundering roar.
Panting wildly, I eased onto the mattress beside her and gently stroked her hair.
“Come on, baby…wake up. Please, wake up,” I begged.
“Grant,” Emma whispered.
“I’m here, little one. I’m here…I got you,” I croaked, biting back a sob. Yanking a pocketknife from my pants, I began sawing through the scratchy rope binding her to the bed. “Talk to me, little one…keep talking to me.”
But Emma didn’t respond.
Making every slice count, I quickly freed her wrists and ankles. Then I gently removed the rope binding her red, raw and—in several places—bleeding flesh.
“You fought back, didn’t you? Yes, I know you did. I can see how hard you struggled, my love,” I praised, vigorously rubbing her limbs, working the blood flow through them.
“Grant,” she groaned, lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks.
“I’m here, love. I’m right here. Open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me, baby girl,” I commanded, but she was still too drugged to comply.
I had no clue how much poison the bastard had shoved into her veins. All I knew was I wanted Emma to wake up and open her eyes so I could tell her…I love you.
Jolted by the realization, I inwardly chuffed. For the first time in years, the notion of letting someone into my heart…and returning their love, didn’t sail me into a terrified panic.
Somehow—in the few short weeks we’d been together—Emma had climbed inside my cold, dead heart and brought it back to life.
The urgency to get her out of this…torture chamber…this prison, out of Wesley’s apartment, and back to the ranch rode me hard. Refusing to let her out of my sight again, I gathered the dirty, blood-stained sheet around her, then gently lifted her into my arms.
Clutching her close against my chest, I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Emma’s lids fluttered open.
As she blinked—struggling to clear the drug-induced fog, and focus on me—I swallowed the ball of emotion lodged in my throat and sent up a prayer of thanks.
“Morning, sunshine.” I smiled. “I’ve missed the hell out of you.”
ChapterTwenty
Emma
Convinced I was merely dreaming again, I blinked to bring the blurred image of Grant into focus. Seeing him in my mind, like this, ripped me apart. Yet it also soothed me…filled me with hope he was somewhere out there searching for me. I savored the warmth and love shimmering in his blue eyes, yet something wasn’t right. The way his voice vibrated through me and the familiar heat and scent of his body confused me. Grant had never appeared in my dreams thisrealbefore.
When he drew me closer to his chest, I could feel his heart beating.
Like watching the glowing orange sunrise slowly peek over the horizon back at the ranch, I realized it wasn’t a dream.
Grant really is here…holding me in his arms.
Lifting my hand, I gently cupped his face. As the warmth of his skin slid over my fingers and into my palm, I buried my face in his chest and breathed him in before I burst into tears.
“Shhh, baby. It’s all right. He’ll never hurt you again. I’ve got you,” Grant murmured, pressing his lips to the top of my head.
