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“The things I’ve had to do…” she murmurs, as though reading my thoughts.
Faith’s eyes swim with more tears, the canopy of her lashes breaking the deep blue into scattered shards. I blink away my own tears, filling my heart with hatred for the men who’ve caused her so much pain, and using that to fuel my determination to keep this woman alive, to make sure she gets to fulfil her wish.
Soren is a dead man.
Blowing out a shaky breath, I gently squeeze her shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, if it hurts too much.”
“I need to,” she replies, covering my hand with hers, finding strength in my touch. “I need to let it out, some of it at least.”
I nod. “Then I’ll listen for as long as you need me to.”
“Can you help me to sit up?” she asks, trying to push up on her elbows, every movement painful.
Sliding my arm beneath her back, I get her into a seated position then help her shuffle backwards against the headboard, placing the cushion behind her.
“Is that more comfortable?” I ask as she rests her hands on her gently rounded stomach.
“A little,” she replies with a weak smile, her gaze sliding from mine as she takes in her surroundings fully. This room is nowhere near as extravagantly decorated as Soren’s bedroom, but it does have a sturdy wooden bed, thick mattress, and a bathroom with running water, so it's a darn sight better than what we’ve been used to.
“I’m surprised Soren didn’t send me back to the cells,” she replies.
“He was going to,” I explain, “But I managed to persuade him not to. You need access to running water, a toilet, and a decent bed. You need light, fresh air, and I need a place to work that isn’t a health risk.”
“How did you do that?” she asks, shifting slightly, her expression registering the pain. “Soren couldn’t care less about the condition of our cells. He loves knowing we’re treated worse than dogs. The Skulls call us their bitches after all.”
“He wants your baby to live,” I say, hating that’s the truth, that if it weren’t for the baby she carries she’d probably be dead already.
She nods, her hands rubbing gently over her bump. “I’ve survived up until this moment because I allowed Soren to do whatever he wanted to me. I didn’t fight him. Not when he raped me over and over until my insides bled. Not when he beat me unconscious. Not when he tried to break me with his words as much as his fists. I never fought back, until now.”
“Because of the baby?”
“Yes.”
“How far gone are you?”
“I’m not certain, a few months?”
“And he’s been beating you despite the fact you’re pregnant,” I say, fisting my fingers, wishing I could gut the bastard.
“He didn’t know until last night.”
“Why didn’t you tell him earlier? He could’ve killed you and the baby.”
“At first I wasn’t sure if I was pregnant. My periods had become irregular from the trauma and the abuse. Then a week ago I felt something fluttering deep inside of me, like the edge of a butterfly’s wing. It was so soft, so fragile, and I knew. IknewI was pregnant, that my boobs weren’t just sore because of his rough treatment of me, but because my body was preparing to be a mother.”
“So what happened last night?”
“I sensed I didn’t have much longer, that sooner or later his hands around my throat would tighten until I couldn’t breathe anymore. He fucked me, took what he needed and then he began to hit me. I knew I had to fight back. I knew I had to protect my child.”
“I'm so sorry, Faith,” I reply, my voice strangled with emotion.
“He only stopped trying to beat me to death because I told him I was carrying his son,” she continues, the emptiness in her voice finding fire with every word.
“How do you know it’s a boy?”
Faith lets out a harsh laugh. “I don’t, but I knew he would kill me if I said it was a girl.”
Instead of replying, I reach for Faith again, gathering her into my arms as she cries against my chest, her emotions spilling over once again. After a few moments she pulls away, wiping away the tears with shaking hands.
