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“Yeah, I do. It’s in my bathroom. Come on.” She leads me into the small, very neat space. “If you want to strip off and put your clothes in to be washed, I’m sure I’ll have a shirt to fit you.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Towels are on the shelf above the toilet.”
Stripping out of my clothes, I put them into the washing machine and then have a long, hot shower. Using Elora’s shampoo and conditioner, I wash my hair as well. It’s as if I’m trying to wash the stink of the Defiant Men off me, but I fear there isn’t enough soap or water to get me clean.
When I’m done, I use Elora’s hairdryer and some of her makeup. The bruise on my cheek is getting darker, but for now, the makeup almost covers it. Wrapping a towel around myself, I step out of the bathroom into Elora’s apartment.
She’s holding up two shirts. “Black t-shirt or black tank top?”
“T-shirt, please.”
Elora smiles. “I figured as much.” She holds it out to me. “Can I make you a drink? Coffee?”
“Yes, please.” I take the t-shirt and go back into the bathroom.
I slip it over my head and wrap the towel around my waist. When I emerge from the bathroom, Elora has a cup of coffee waiting for me at her dining table.
“Did you phone, Grim?”
“I did.”
“And?” I ask, nervously.
“He’s agreed to help you.”
Laughter escapes me, and I sag onto one of her dining chairs. “Thank you.”
Elora takes a sip of coffee. “I always thought you were happy with Tank.”
“No. I was his property. Him dying couldn’t have come at a better time. He wanted to marry me and start a family, then I would truly have been trapped.”
Elora’s eyebrows come together in a frown. “It was all pretend?”
With turned down lips, I tilt my head from side to side. “No, and yes. I’d made peace with the deal that was struck for me, but I never wanted to be with Tank. I never chose Tank.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Tank never really understood love. To him, I was like a trophy. A shiny object he won and kept on his shelf.”
I turn away from her, feeling the weight of my past tighten around me. Elora leans back in the chair, arms crossed, but her posture was anything but closed off.
“Cherry, no one deserves to be caged. Not even by someone who believes it’s for love.” Her voice is soft.
“Love,” I scoff, bitterness creeping into my tone. “What he called love was just possession. He marked me as his ‘Cherry’ because he took what he wanted first. But he can’t have me. Not anymore.”
“Then you run, and you don’t look back,” she replies, her words a quiet command.
“I need to disappear,” I confess, turning to face her fully now. “New York. It’s big enough to swallow me whole. I’ll blend in with the crowds, become another face in a sea of strangers.”
“Start fresh.” Elora nods.
“Exactly,” I murmur, my mind racing with the images of towering buildings and endless streets. “A place where nobody knows my name. Where the air doesn’t reek of motor oil and old leather.”
“Where the Defiant Men can’t find you,” Elora adds pointedly.
“Where Viper can’t find me. I want to walk down a street and not feel eyes on me, judging, weighing my worth. I want to wake up and not wonder if today’s the day he or one of the others decides I’m too much trouble to keep around.”
New York isn’t just a place; it is salvation. A promise that life can be more than survival, more than being someone’s prize.
“Cherry,” Elora says, her voice pulling me back to the present, “you’re strong enough to do this. To make it out there.”
