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“Shut your filthy mouth.” Nolan punches him so hard a tooth flies from his mouth.
Tripp just smiles through the blood, hate radiating from his body as he looks at me. “What’s happened to you, Liv? You never liked watching fights with me in Vegas, but you’re okay with this loser punching your husband?”
“She’s not your wife,” Sawyer says from beside me. “I had the marriage annulled.”
“How?” Tripp tries to move closer but loses his footing.
“I have judges from the Supreme Court to municipal court on my payroll. All it took was a payoff to one and hefty donation to another’s charity.”
“You’re going to live with these criminals? I don’t think your parents would approve, Olivia.” Tripp tsks with a demented smile.
I step forward, right in his face and spit. “Don’t talk about my parents.”
His face contorts in fury, and he attempts to kick me, missing by a lot, but it’s enough to set all the guys off. Lake steps in front of me and punches him in the face. Nolan drops to his knees and slices both of Grant’s Achilles tendons. I step back between Sawyer and Grant as Tripp screams in pain, his blood forming a large puddle beneath him while he hangs from his wrists.
The humanity in me is begging me to end it. To have the guys shoot him and be done. But there’s a darker side to me now. A side that wants to see him pay in blood for what he’s done to me and to countless women. As I war with whether or not he’s suffered enough, he looks at me and seals his immediate fate.
“You know,” he grimaces, “the five of us are the only guys who have ever fucked that cunt. Have you guys stretched it out enough to stuff two ins-”
He never finishes his vile thought because Grant puts a bullet through his forehead. He lowers the gun and looks at me, “You didn’t need to hear the end of that sentence.”
I look over at Tripp’s dead body and realize I feel not one single ounce of regret that he’s gone. There is no mourning. There is no anger. There is no numbness. I feel nothing for the loss of his life.
“Come on.” Sawyer grabs my hand and starts to lead me out. “We have some stuff we want to discuss with you.”
“Who’s going to clean this up?” I ask.
“I have a professional cleaner,” Lake says.
“For dead bodies?”
“Yeah,” he looks at me sheepishly, “this isn’t a rare occurrence around here.”
I follow them up and out into the cold winter air. The sky above us is a brilliant blue, and the sun reflects off the snow like millions of crystals. I tilt my head back and smile, completely at peace for the first time in years. I know I’m not truly okay though; my nightmares have come back, and they are ten times worse now, even if I’m lying in bed surrounded by all four of my guys.
I’m the last one into the house and with all my winter gear off. By the time I make it to the living room, they’re all sitting in the same places they sat the night they told me the truth about my parents. I’m immediately on guard at the serious looks on their faces.
“What’s going on?” I ask hesitantly.
“We want to talk to you about getting something,” Sawyer says after clearing his throat. “We’ve looked into a ninety-day treatment facility for you. Your nightmares aren’t getting better, and your panic attacks are increasing.”
My skin feels like it’s on fire as I battle my rising defensiveness. I know, logically, that they are correct. I need help. I am not mentally and emotionally well after everything I’ve been through.
“Do you guys need a break from me already?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood because the air in this beautiful cabin is heavy.
“You know that’s not what this is about at all.” Lake looks at me sternly. “I went there for the same PTSD program. It’s good. They’re good.”
“We had them add a counselor to their staff specifically trained in domestic violence, so you’ll have that counseling too.”
Of course they did.
“When would I leave?”
“Tomorrow,” Sawyer answers.
I drag a surprised breath in through my teeth. “That doesn’t give me much time to prepare.”
“That’s the point,” Lake replies.
