Page 161 of Captivated

Bad.

She’d not just been hit, no.

She’d been beaten like a dog.

“How many hits to the head does she have to take before you believe that she can’t remember what happened, detective?” the lawyer asked. “How many drugs need to show up in her system before you realize she was not an accomplice, but a victim in all of this? How many bruises and split-open welts do the doctors need to describe for you to understand she was a survivor of a man who she has a violent history with?”

“I—”

“Why are you trying to make a victim in to a criminal, sir?” the lawyer murmured.

Lucian rested back in his chair, and stared up at the ceiling. For a moment, Joe wondered if the man was praying because that seemed to be a popular thing with the Marcello family. Family, and God.

One always came before the other.

He respected it, really.

“Had they just handled this the first time,” Lucian said under his breath, “then she wouldn’t need to do this all over again. She wouldn’t have to justify why she’s a victim. This wouldn’t have needed to happen at all.”

Yeah, Joe knew that.

Got it, too.

“It’s over, though,” he said. “The bastard’s not coming back.”

Lucian shook his head. “But she knows. She’s always going to know, Joe. People didn’t protect her—the system failed her.”

“Or it’s going to make her more amazing,” Joe returned, shrugging.

His companion glanced over at him. “You think?”

“How could she not be?”

Joe didn’t know what was going to happen from here on out. He didn’t know what Liliana’s plans were for her life, or for them.

Was she going to keep dancing?

Was she going to be as vibrant?

Was she going to love him?

He didn’t have those answers—despite wanting and needing them like nothing else—but that was okay, too. He didn’t need to have the answers for those questions. They weren’t his answers, and this wasn’t about him.

It had never been about him.

This was Liliana’s life, and her choices from here on out could only reflect what she wanted and needed the very most. He was going to be there—or not, if she didn’t want him to be—to support whatever in the hell she wanted to do.

And that was okay, too.

That’s what love had taught him.

He still hadn’t gotten to tell her yet, though.

“My wife wanted me to thank you,” Lucian said quietly.

Joe nodded. “You really don’t have to.”

“She’d like to have you over for dinner, too, but …”