And Jesus Christ?—
she looked terrified.
Not of Vaughn.
Of me hearing whatever this was.
That alone made rage climb hot through my chest.
Because what had happened to her that she thought I'd look at her differently afterward?
I stood slowly beside Vaughn.
The tavern had gone dead silent now.
Trigger stopped joking.
Wolf’s arms folded tightly across his chest.
Even Tate looked tense.
“Hersh,” Flick whispered again.
I crossed the room toward her without taking my eyes off her face.
Not Vaughn.
Never Vaughn.
Her.
Only her.
“Hey.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
God.
That one word kept undoing her.
“What is it?” I asked quietly.
She shook her head once.
Then again.
Like she physically couldn’t say it.
Behind us, Vaughn laughed weakly.
“She was hiding under a car crying while they executed those people.”
I didn’t even look at him.
Already knew he was trying to hurt her.
“She heard everything,” Vaughn continued. “Begging. Screaming. Gunshots.” His voice turned uglier. “Then one of the girls crawled toward her.”
