“Katherine?” I called out, placing my hand on the firearm at my hip, and moved through the apartment to my bedroom. “Are you here?”
I tried to calm my racing heart and slowly opened the bedroom door. The lamp on the bedside table lit the room in a warm glow.
When my eyes adjusted, I saw Katherine. She stood a little hunched over at the foot of my bed, her body angled away from me. She still wore her work uniform, and her hair covered most of her face, but she didn’t look hurt.
“Oh, good.” I removed my hand from my weapon and ran my fingers through my hair with a sigh. “I came home to change, but I saw your car out front. Is everything all right? Did something happen?”
“I’m fine.” Katherine stood rigidly still with her head down. “I have to go.”
I balked at her words.Go? What does she mean? She can’t leave.
I shifted my weight, still just inside the room, and placed my hands on my hips. I wanted to go to her, but her body language told me to stay where I was.
“What are you talking about?” My gaze shifted around her, thinking I might have missed something that would explain why she thought she needed to leave.
I suddenly noticed the duffle bag on the bed in front of her. Then my gaze traveled to her shaking hands hovering over it. Then up her arms where I saw faint red marks, bruises forming on her fair skin. Then higher to her face, which was covered by a few tresses of her dark hair.
The silence between us stretched wider. Katherine shifted as a result of it, and that’s when I saw more bruises.
There were large, dark marks across her neck, jaw, and cheek. Some marks were random splotches, but most of them were shaped like fingers, like someone had grabbed her—hurt her.
A phantom ache radiated along my body where those bruises were, as if I felt the damage of each mark myself. That ache soon morphed into a searing pain that centered in my chest, stealing the breath from my lungs.
Rage like I’d never felt before consumed me. My jaw clenched, and I ground my molars to an almost painful point, but I couldn’t feel the pain. I couldn’t feel anything beyond my wrath.
“What happened?” I asked in a low, deep voice.
Katherine didn’t respond. She kept her head down and angled away.
A part of my ire dissipated when she remained silent, but stayed just below the surface, brewing until I got an answer from her.
I took a deep breath, knowing it was best to remain calm and focused on her. She was more important than the fucker—the dead man walking—who hurt her.
Slowly, I approached Katherine. I wanted to reach out to her but kept my hands at my side in fear she’d shrink away.
“Who did this to you?” my voice trembled with unrestrained emotion.
Katherine shook her head. The movement was so slight, I almost missed it.
I longed for her to face me—to look in my eyes. I needed to see her; to truly know she was all right.
“Katherine?” I gently raised my hand and placed my thumb and forefinger on her chin, angling it up. “Please, just tell me what happened? Was it the man in the hood? Did he do this?”
Finally, her eyes met mine.
A stubborn line formed between her brows as tears filled her brown eyes. Her mouth parted on a breath, but no words came out.
That fiery, sharp pain in my chest turned into a fist that wrapped around my heart, squeezing and squeezing with each tear that fell down her cheeks.
“Please, baby,” I whispered, wiping her tears away with my thumb. “Let me in.”
“I just—” Katherine looked away and stepped back out of my grasp. “It’s not safe anymore. I need to go.”
She reached for her bag, but I stopped her.
“Please, Katherine.” I lowered my head to her level. “Just think about this for a minute. Is leaving really your best option? This isn’t like the time before. You’re not alone. You don’t have to solve this on your own. I’m here. I’m right here for you.”
Her shoulders curved in on themselves, and she pursedher lips. She looked tired. Tired of either my persistence or the situation she was in, but it looked like she was on the verge of breaking—giving up.
