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Fortunately, a nurse chose that moment to come in, and he was forced to shelve the conversation. I’d shut him down whenever he tried to bring it up. Colby wanted to press me, I saw that. But he held himself back because he was treating me with care.
And although my actions seemed to the contrary, I was treating him with care too. There was no way I could tell him that even his worst imaginings paled in comparison to the horror I’d been through.
“He lost, Sariah,” Violet said softly. “He lost because you fought him and survived. And he’s … gone.”
Neither of us really knew if he was technically gone or not since no one had seen hide nor hair of him. Both of us had been kind of busy.
But we knew he wasn’t in police custody. No way would any of the Sons let that happen. And apparently, the local cops were back on the Sons of Templar’s payroll since no one had come to interview me.
I also knew that Colby had very bruised and bloody knuckles that were only just now healing.
The sheriff was either dead or wishing he was. That should’ve mattered to me a lot more than it did. I should’ve been demanding to know where they were keeping him, if he was alive. I should’ve been vying for a piece of him, to watch him die, maybe even kill him myself.
But that wouldn’t change what he’d done to me.
And even worse, I didn’t think I was strong enough to face him. I wanted to be the badass bitch who strode in there with her head held high and a Glock held steady. I wanted to impress the outlaws with the vengeance I could dish out. But I knew for a fact that if I even tried such a thing, I’d vomit or pass out or do something that would yet again cement Colby’s assertions that I needed to be taken care of.
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I said, my voice quivering.
Violet’s forehead crumpled with concern. I could see her battling whether to push me a little more or give me space. I knew that look because it was on Colby’s face whenever we were together.
“Okay,” she conceded. “But we are going to talk about something.”
I sighed. I’d been waiting for this. Violet knew—just like everybody in the club knew—why I’d been targeted as a victim. Ollie had called to give me the rundown on what the Sons knew, still spitting tacks of fury about the whole situation.
I appreciated her anger. It was a lot easier to swallow than the pity.
Though I was recovering from a whole lot, it was always in the back of my mind that the entire club and everyone connected to it knew that I had been earning all my money from taking my clothes off on camera.
Not that I thought they were talking about me or judging me. That wasn’t their style. Freya, Hades’s wife, had been a stripper. Macy, Hansen’s wife, used to be a ‘club girl.’ Everyone was about alternative lifestyles and never cast judgment on anyone else.
But Violet was different.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, not with accusation, with a delicate kind of hurt.
Which, in my opinion, was worse than any kind of anger. Violet and I didn’t have secrets, at least that’s what she’d thought. She’d pretty much spilled everything about her life to me the first day I met her.
And I’d returned the favor by lying to her, by refusing to talk about my background or my family. Not because I didn’t trust her.
I trusted her with my life.
That was the problem. My life was a very careful house of cards I’d created. Too much truth and it would all come crumbling down.
But hadn’t it all tumbled already?
I nibbled on my lip, trying to find the words.
“Is it because you thought I’d judge you?” she asked, her eyes welling up. “Because I’d never—”
I reached out to grasp her hand, the first time I’d initiated touch with someone since before the warehouse. “Babe, I knew for a fact that you wouldn’t judge me,” I told her honestly. “I just…” I sighed. “I liked that you knew me as Sariah who was confident, who had no cares, perhaps rich parents and not the unwanted black sheep in the family who could only take her clothes off in order to keep her in designer duds.”
“I know you as the Sariah that you are.” Violet’s eyes continued to shimmer. “In here.” She pointed to my heart. “I understand why you wanted to keep it to yourself, craft your own identity, but you don’t have to hide anything from me. It won’t change how I feel about you.”
I smiled, forcing my tears back. “Thanks, babe.”
“Are you … still going to do it?” she probed gingerly.
