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There was nothing to say. I had no words for him, so instead of standing in front of him looking like a mute, I swung around and headed for Havoc.
I heard the footsteps in the dirt behind me just as I reached the white Andalusian. He tagged my hand and pulled me to a stop. “Let me explain, Eme.”
A tremor of fear shifted through me at his tone and the reaction made me angry. “You don’t get to do that. You let me go, remember. I’m free now and I don’t need anything from you. I’m not your fucking sex slave to cram your cock into every night.”
“Jesus,” he growled. “Not once did I take you without your consent. And you know it.”
“That’s because if I didn’t, the consequences were worse.” Okay, I was lying, because I was mad and hurt and yes, I was a little scared too. I had no clue why Sculpt was here, and the thought of going back … no, I’d never go back.
His voice was quiet, “I never beat you, Emily. I tried to protect you.”
“Is that how you live with yourself? No, you just took away my choices. You watched while other people beat me. You bled my self-esteem. Damn it, you tore my fucking heart out.”
“I got you out when I could.”
“Yeah, in pieces.”
Logan never moved a muscle. Blazing, heated anger shot from his dark, chocolate eyes. “Emily.” Logan paused, as he waited for me to look at him. “I’ve lived two years without you. I’m not doing it any longer. We are going to talk.”
“What?” My heart was pounding so fast I felt I would soon go into cardiac arrest.
“The compound is destroyed.”
My breath hitched as I immediately thought of all those girls. “The girls?”
“Most got out.”
“Most?” What did that mean?
“Raul is dead.”
“So you came to find me to tell me that? That your ruthless, piece-of-shit fucking father is dead? I don’t care. I’ve moved on.”
“Have you?”
I paused, and it was a mistake, because he noticed. “You need to leave.”
He moved in, and I saw the intent on his face, the way his brows lowered, how his eyes turned dark. I knew what he was going to do, but before I could turn he grabbed me by the shoulders. “I let you go once, because I had to. Now I don’t.”
I started trembling with anger and fear stirred in my belly. There was an uncertainty if he was going to grab me and carry me away and I’d never be found again.
My trust in Logan had snapped, and it couldn’t be reconnected. “Yeah well, tell that to the police when I call them and have you arrested. They know what happened to me.” But they didn’t know Logan was involved. Maybe that was a mistake. I reached into my back pocket then realized I didn’t have my phone.
“Mouse.” Logan’s hand went to the nape of my neck, and his fingers caressed my skin causing disturbing goose bumps to rise. No. I didn’t want my body to react to him. “You need to understand what went down and to hear it from me.”
That pissed me off. He wanted me to understand? No. Nothing could ever make me understand. “I live every single day with what you did to me.”
So much pain had risen to the surface, because he dared to come here. It hurt. He hurt. The memories hurt. I knew escape was my only answer before I fell back into a place I swore I wouldn’t go again.
“Christ.” Logan ran his hand through his bedroom hair, and the locks fell easily back in place. “I did it to protect you.”
“So I needed to be whipped for protection? And tortured? Oh and let’s not forget that time in the courtyard when I had a gun pressed to my temple by your father and you walked away. And the humiliation of being publically … fucked.”
Logan stepped closer, and I felt his breath on my skin, his smell wafting into me just as I remembered it. “I never took you against your will. Ever.”
He was right, he never did. Even when he fucked me in the dining hall he’d asked me. We did it to appease Raul and from making the situation any worse.
I felt like stomping like a fifteen-year-old when I was twenty-two. Instead I casually took the few steps to reach Havoc and picked up her lead. I started to walk Havoc from the ring when Logan called out. “Emily.” I kept walking. “I’m sorry it had to happen that way.”
My hand on the latch of the gate dropped. “You don’t get to say that.” I turned, fury encompassing me like I was lit on fire. I dropped the lead and strode over to him glaring, unflinching as he stared right back at me. “You don’t get to say you’re sorry, Sculpt.”
He remained stoic and solid, and I was furious that he could be so calm and put together while I was falling apart inside.
“Emily.” His arms came around me in one heated embrace, and the loss I felt the last two years, the devastation, the loneliness, it was smothered by the weight of him. The tightening in my chest hurt so bad I wondered if my ribs were poking into my lungs. Breathing became unbearable as the distinct memories of this man hit like a tidal wave. My fingers curled into his T-shirt, and I felt the hardness of his chest, the way it contoured over taut skin, remembered how his tattoos rippled when he moved. I remembered, and it pissed me off that it was so clear.
“Let me repair this.”
His whispered words hit me, and I swallowed the sob threatening to escape and embarrass me. I was stronger now. I’d survived him and his father. And I’d survive this too.
I pulled back, instantly feeling the crushing despair descend on me. Why? Why did he come back? “You made me fear you. You made me fear myself. You locked me inside myself so deep that it took me months to break free again. Repair? You think you can repair that?” I huffed. “I think you should be looking at yourself and repairing your fucked up head before you offer to repair someone else.”
