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Covered in scars. Scars I could’ve prevented if I wasn’t so goddamn selfish. If I’d opened my eyes and really seen her. If I’d bothered to look past my own pain to see the hell she was living in. The psychopath she’d married. And here she was, standing in her lingerie in front of another monster.
“Get out!” Rage at myself made my voice louder than I intended.
Grace flinched, but didn’t hesitate to grab her dress and press it to her chest. She cowered as she raced to the door. One hand hovered over the handle, the other clutched the lacey fabric to her skin. Hiding herself. Her scars.
Her fear of me sent me into a tailspin. I wanted to tell her not to be afraid, but I couldn’t. Because I wasn’t in control. The darkness inside me was spreading. Wrapping its claws around my heart. My mind.
I grabbed a glass of water from the dresser and threw it across the room. It exploded on the closet door, showering pieces down onto the carpet. A piece of glass shot back towards me, lashing into my palm. It wasn’t enough.
I needed an outlet for my rage. She needed to get as far away from me as possible before I couldn’t control myself anymore. “I said get out!”
Grace yelped as she ripped the door open and ran. I couldn’t stand anymore. Leaning against the wall, I stared at shattered glass fragments. It felt like it should’ve been my heart that was laid to pieces at my feet.
I failed her. The woman I loved. She’d endured years of pain. Of trauma because I was too wrapped up in my own selfishness. Too riddled with guilt for loving my brother’s wife.
I thought she was with the better man. But I hadn’t seen it. I hadn’t wanted to see.
I rubbed my hands together, smearing the blood across the tattoo on the back. A black and white sunflower. I’d gotten it the day she married Mitchell. To remind myself to leave her alone.
Now, it was covered in my blood. In my sins.
I had to deal with the fact that I was just as bad as him. All she wanted was her freedom. She wanted to leave her past behind. Not walk these halls that were filled with memories of the pain she’d suffered. She wanted to be happy by herself, with a child. And I’d taken that choice from her.
Oh fuck!
I couldn’t breathe as I thought back to the night in my office. I thought she wanted it. She’d been so wet and needy for me. But after, she’d freaked out. I figured it was just embarrassment or shame that she slept with me, her husband’s brother.
But maybe…maybe she was only doing what she had to do to survive. What my goddamn brother had trained her to do.
I… raped her.
My knees gave out, and I collapsed to the floor. My fingers raked through my hair, coating them in blood. I felt the stickiness like a brand. A sign of what I was.
I raped the woman I loved.
I’d used the threat of motherhood to coerce her into marrying me. Took everything from her. I truly was the monster she believed me to be.
13
Grace
The sound of crashing exploded in my head. I jerked awake. My heart pounded in my chest. My breath caught in my lungs. The covers were suffocating, but fear kept me still.
I waited to hear another crash. A shout. Any sign of what had woken me. I couldn’t tell if the noise I’d heard was real or a dream.
My body tensed anticipating the hit. Waiting for Mitchell to yank me out of bed. Sometimes, he’d be mad about some business deal. Others, he was just bored. Using my body to keep him busy. I hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since we’d been married.
But when the sound came again, it was only a soft knock and Vander’s voice. “Grace?”
My heart didn’t stop tapping on my ribs as I jumped from the bed. I grabbed my robe from a chair as I crossed the room. Yanking the belt tight around my waist, I cracked the door open.
The sight of Vander made my throat constrict. He leaned against the glass railing overlooking the living room, with his long legs crossed at his ankles. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets. His hair was wet, like he’d just showered. The scent of sandalwood assaulted my senses, telling me I was right. A damp piece of hair curled on his forehead as he glanced up at me.
His head was tilted down like he was trying to make himself seem less intimidating. Well, he failed. Power and violence radiated from him. I could practically taste it in the air.
His mouth pinched at the corners as he watched me cowering behind my door. My knuckles ached from my tight grip on the wood, ready to slam it in his face if necessary.
I had no idea what to expect after last night. After he’d seen my body and kicked me out of his bedroom. After he’d heard the truth.
