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Warily, the Mistress held out the tiny tablet. "Swallow it, sweetheart. I can feel the anxiety pumping off you. This will take the edge off it."
While the fog whispered around her feet, crawling up her legs, she was tempted. But if she took it, how vulnerable would she be to their questions? She refused to talk about the incident, and that was final. No one else knew what had gone on in those few minutes, and no one else was going to suffer with the images in her head.
"Sweetheart, you're not in trouble, I promise you. Atticus has worked his magic yet again, and everything has been tidied up. Our concern now is you and what you're going through."
"I-I'm fine."
"Far from it," Atticus growled. "Your skin has little more color than a glass pane. Take the damn pill, little bit. Or so help me, I'll make you. Don't put us both through that."
He meant it, she realized. Well, he was just going to have to—when he stepped forward, Anarchy lost her train of thought. She darted past him, intending to head for the door, but he was faster than she anticipated, especially for his size. She really shouldn't forget he could strike faster than a cobra. His hand lashed out and snagged her by the hood of her goddamn hoody, yanking her back into his arms.
She yelped, but her body was used to his now. Recognized him as a source of what she yearned for most—comfort. He wasn't Jasper, but he was a passable second choice. "I just want to see Jasper. The last time I saw him, he was on his back, on the ground, with one of those...with one of those..." Her breath hitched. "He was going to kill Jasper."
"I know, little bit. You stopped him, didn't you? You were such a brave girl." Atticus's chin rested on top of her head. "Jasper told you to drive away, to drive back here where it was safe. He's very proud of you for listening to him. It must have been difficult for you to leave him there, knowing what he was up against."
She shuddered. "I didn't want to."
"But you did, because he told you to."
Too late, Anarchy understood she'd set her foot squarely in the snare trap Atticus had laid out for her. The rope was tight around her ankle, and words were tumbling free with every little nudge he gave her. "I turned around like you said. I was so scared, then I started thinking about my Grandma and how she would see it as an adventure. She wouldn't be frightened enough to run. She'd fight. And I'm of her blood."
"Sounds like a strong woman."
"She was. She really was." Tears dripped down her cheeks. "I put my foot down and underestimated where I thought I'd left Jasper. I kept going slowly until I saw the headlights of the other car and turned off my own. It was deliberate. I didn't want them to see me." She wiped at her face. "Jasper hit the other guy with a flying kick that knocked them both down. The other guy got up, but Jasper didn't."
"Gerald," Atticus murmured gently. "The other guy had a name, little bit. His name was Gerald."
Had she known that? It sounded familiar, but a lot of what had transpired before the incidentwas lost in the fog. Did it help to have a name to put to the images in her head? Not really, not now. If she wanted to survive this, she had to see him as nameless, just a killer intent on hurting her lover, kidnapping him. Fucking everything up and murdering him by accident. "Gerald stood up and just stretched as though he'd taken a quick nap. I saw the knife in his hand and I..."
Clamming up, she told herself not to say another damn word. This was where that terrifying movie reel started rolling again, playing the horror story of her life. She let her head hang forward, hiding her face behind her hair so the astute Domme couldn't play mindreading games.
Avoidance so much easier without eye contact.
"You saw the knife," Atticus prompted, then sighed in frustration when she remained silent. He scooped her up and carried her to the bed, sitting down and arranging her stiffly on his lap like a father with a petulant little girl. "That weight on your shoulders, in your stomach? I'm best friends with it, Anarchy. I've carted them around for so long, they've become part of me. They've grown with every kill I'm responsible for. I don't want that for you. You can give it to me, let me take some of the burden. All you have to do is talk."
More silence. It was all she was prepared to give him. The weight of guilt was hers to bear, not his. Adding to his guilt wasn't an option. There was a limit, even for men like Jasper and Atticus, before the scales began to tip. Before good men became bad, or worse than that, dead.
"It's okay, Att. I can piece the rest of it together." Connie tsked in disapproval. "She thought Jasper was dead and decided life wasn't worth living. So she made a choice and made an attempt at killing herself. Crashing into the other car at high speed might have done the job, but instead she hit the poor innocent guy in the middle of the road."
"He wasn't innocent, he wasn't!" Archie shouted, lifting her head and glaring at the Domme. "You don't have a clue what went on!"
"No? Well, enlighten me, please."
"They were going to take him, take both of us. Use me as bait and punishment, and Jasper as a stallion. Bred over and over again. Gerald would have cut Jasper into pieces. I put my foot down again and drove straight at him. Aimed for him. He was so focused on Jasper, he didn't hear the truck until I was almost on top of him." Her chest was getting tighter. "He looked up, over at me and there was a look on his face that was like where the hell did you come from? And then it turned into an Oh fuckwhen it sank in who I was."
Distress levels rising swiftly, Archie squirmed on Atticus's knees. "I need to leave now."
"Almost done, Archie. Just keep talking."
They were far from done. Archie didn't want to talk anymore, couldn't stand the images in her head any longer. Reaching up, she fisted her hair in her hands and tried to rip it out, using the pain to distract her from the shitshow her life had become.
"No, you don't, sweetheart." Connie hurried forward and began extricating Archie's fingers from her golden locks, despite the vicious grip she had on it. "Get it out, all of it. In one go. If you don't tell anyone, it's going to rot. It'll be a lot more painful to squeeze the crap out of the wound if you allow it to fester, Archie."
"You know what happened. I ran him over. I used Jasper's truck as a weapon, and I killed a man." Her voice cracked sharply in the middle. She regained some of her composure with a lot of effort, but she was barely hanging on. Glossing over the crack so Connie couldn't dig her fingers in and pry Archie apart, she attempted a tremulous smile...which immediately failed. "I intentionally killed a man."
Atticus's voice was gruff, almost chastising. "Did you stalk him? No, don't pull that face at me, Anarchy, it's a simple question. Did you follow him around, poke through his social media, plot out how and when you were going to kill him? Oh, don't tell me. You madehim stand in the middle of the road with a knife, right? Because you're a fucking manipulative, sociopathic serial killer."
"I-I-I-I..."
