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“I need you to leave me alone,” she finally managed to say. “I can’t believe—oh my God.” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. “You knew.”
I knew. And I’d gotten off to it more than once.
But I would’ve never done that if I knew it was her fucking brother. I would’ve stopped it. I would’ve killed him.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, but she took another step away.
“Please, just leave me alone.” I didn’t want to, but the shock of this news froze me to the spot, and the only thing I could do was watch her turn and run down the street, her embarrassed, broken sobs carrying to me with the wind.
Chapter Twenty-One
I paced the living room, shoving my hand through my hair, disheveling it further. It had been hours since Winnie ran away from me, and the sickness I’d felt after learning that her brother had been raping her and that I’d gotten off to it hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had just gotten worse.
Why didn’t I see it sooner? She’d never mentioned a boyfriend, but why would she to me? I thought she was embarrassed or ashamed about cheating on him. But I should’ve known what was happening to her. I should’ve seen the torture on her face every night when he came into her room.
No, I had seen it. But I thought it was because she didn’t love him anymore, that she was disgusted by the idea of touching him—and she was. But for a different reason than I’d thought.
One thing was for certain, though: I couldn’t leave Winnie in that house anymore.
She didn’t want anything to do with me, so how was I supposed to save her when she didn’t want me around? I could just sneak into her room and kidnap her, but something told me that wouldn’t end well. She didn’t seem like the Stockholm Syndrome type. She seemed like the hold a grudge forever type.
But it would be for her own good. I had to save her from him. I couldn’t sit here and let her continue being assaulted every single night and do nothing about it.
I stared at the closed door, my palms sweating. Should I call the police? But what would that mean for Winnie? What would happen to her? Would that just cause her more trauma and embarrassment?
No, I had to take care of this myself.
* * *
Instead of parking in my usual spot, I parked in front of her house. All the lights were on, and shadows moved across the windows, so I knew they were still awake. He was likely drunk, and she was likely cleaning up before they went to bed.
Then he’d do it again.
Getting out, I didn’t bother hiding the sound of my car door slamming shut and bound up the rickety steps. My gun was tucked in the back of my jeans, but I hoped I wouldn’t have to use it. It should be enough to scare him into compliance.
My hand shook as I lifted it and tapped my knuckles against the door. There was that usual tense pause from inside when an unknown guest showed up at your house, then footsteps rattled the walls of the dirty old trailer.
The door swung open, and the only thing separating me from him was the thin mesh of the screen door. I looked straight into his dark eyes, images of what I wanted to do to him flashing through my mind.
I wouldn’t make his death quick. I’d drag it out as long as I could, torturing him until he was a pathetic mess of a man at my feet. All I wanted was to reach through the door and obliterate him for ever thinking he could touch my girl and get away with it.
“Who are you?” he asked, his words thick and slurred. I blinked, letting the fantasy of mutilating him fade away.
“I’m Winnie’s professor,” I said, forcing my voice to be light. “She missed a few assignments last week, so I thought I’d bring them to her.” His eyes narrowed slightly, and I held my breath as I waited.
He scrutinized me, his gaze too all-knowing for being so drunk. I rolled my shoulders back, letting him take in every inch, letting him know I was bigger than him—I was better than him.
“Winnie’s professor?” he repeated. My hands curled into tight fists at my sides, and his eyes dropped to them. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked at me again. “Why would her professor come all the way out here at this time of night? On a Sunday, no less.”
My throat was dry as I swallowed. “She’s a good student. Her grades shouldn’t suffer because of some personal issues.”
He chuckled, the sound grating on my nerves. “Personal issues? What sob story has she spun now?” He stepped closer to the screen door, and I fought the urge to take a step back.
“I just want to make sure she stays on track,” I said, keeping my voice level.
He scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “And you think coming here was the best way for you to do that?” I bit my tongue hard enough to draw blood, the tangy, metallic taste filling my mouth. “Don’t like people snooping around my place uninvited.”
Sweat gathered on my palms, but I held my ground, refusing to show any sign of discomfort or weakness. That same sarcastic smile pulled at his lips, but before either of us could say anything, a soft voice came from behind him.
