Page 131 of Hidden

Nothing did.

“Who was it?” he demanded, kicking me again. “Say his fucking name!”

I cried out as he brought his foot to my head, pressing his weight down on me. The pressure in my skull was mind-numbing, but still I said nothing.

“I know who it was, whore,” he spat. “I just want to hear you say his name one last time.”

He pressed his foot down harder, until I was whimpering beneath his boot.

And then he was gone. But before I had a chance to celebrate, he kicked me again, this time sending me flying onto my back with the force of it. My heart stuttered in my chest, seeming to stop for a second, the world blackening around the edges.

You’re just winded, Gabby. You’re okay,I chanted to myself, struggling to draw in a breath.

I stumbled back onto my side, clawing the carpet, growing dizzy with the lack of oxygen. Just when I thought I was going to pass out, my chest cleared, and I dragged in a huge, gasping breath.

He crouched then, his hand fisting in the front of the jacket again, dragging me partially upright so I had no choice but to face him. Blood filled my mouth where my lip had split, but I swallowed it down rather than give him the satisfaction of seeing me choke on it.

“You really thought you could sneak off to him,” he said, studying my face like he was searching for something deeper than what was already obvious. “After everything.”

I met his gaze.

And despite everything—despite the pain, the fear, the suffocating weight of what this meant—I didn’t look away.

I knew this was the point of no return. I knew there was no coming back from this. So I just stared, forcing every bit of hatred I felt for him into my glare.

“You’re not even trying to deny it,” he said.

“What’s the point?” I wheezed, and used the last of my strength to spit a mouthful of blood on him.

The spit hit his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it off. He let it drip down his face, his tongue coming to the corner of his mouth tolap at it. His hand dropped from the jacket to my jaw, gripping hard enough to force my head back. “Don’t tease me, Gabby. You know your blood is like heroin to me. Don’t make me bleed you to get the answers I want. Say his name.”

I said nothing.

The back of his hand connected with my cheek. My vision blurred, my neck snapped to the side, and then his fist hit me, colliding with my cheek in an explosion of pain.

By the time he let me fall back to the floor, my body felt like it no longer belonged to me, every breath shallow and uneven, pain radiating out from too many places to track properly.

He stood over me for a moment, watching. His gaze dropped to the jacket again, and for a second I thought he might tear it apart, might rip it to pieces in front of me just to prove a point. Instead, he reached down, grabbed it, and pulled it from my body with a sharp, brutal motion that left me exposed in a way that had nothing to do with skin.

The loss of it hit harder than it should have.

He looked down at it in his hands, his expression unreadable for a moment, and then he turned and draped it over the chair.

“You don’t get to keep that,” he said. “But I’ll see that it makes its way back to its rightful owner, don’t you worry about that.”

It should have been safe. I had a plan. I was going to hide it under the loose board beneath my bed, where everything else that mattered had been buried piece by piece over the years. Letters. Memories. Small, stupid things that meant nothing to anyone else but everything to me. That was where the jacket should have gone. Tucked away with the rest of the life I wasn’t allowed to live.

I had planned it the entire walk back.

And now… now it was gone.

Nico’s attention returned to me.

“If he’s getting close enough to leave you dressed like this,” he said slowly, “then maybe it’s time I remind him who you belong to. And the consequence of crossing the line.”

“No,” I rasped before I could stop myself.

His head tilted. “No?” His gaze sharpened instantly, catching on the reaction I couldn’t hide fast enough, and something like satisfaction flickered there.