CHAPTER 36
GRIFFIN
PRESENT
I didn’t know what to expect when we stepped outside her apartment. It sure as hell wasn’t relief. I kept glancing over my shoulder half expecting Damian to be chasing us. Tate clung to my hand like it was her lifeline.
She started to crumble the moment we hit the stairs. Her steps slowed, her grip on my hand tightening. Red and blue lights bounced off the stone walls, casting eerie shadows over her tear-streaked face. Her whole body shook, her eyes held no light, and I feared she was going to collapse on the pavement.
Her neighbors gathered, whispering and staring, nosy for gossip. I sheltered Tate the best I could. She latched onto my chest, burying her face there, her tears soaking my shirt. I saw and felt the distant flash and snap of cameras from the paparazzi and news outlets. I wanted to protect her image, so I raised my arm to her shoulders and held her tightly against my chest, hiding her from view.
Men and women were starting to head toward us, exiting their cars and marching over with authority when I heard a frantic voice cutting through the noise.
“Tate!”
Millie.
She shoved through the gawking crowd, her usually tamed curls were a wild mess as she ran, panic etched across her face. The moment she reached Tate, her hands latched onto her best friend.
Tate broke apart completely. Sounds of heartbreak tore from her lips into my chest.
When Millie tugged Tate’s arm, she turned and slumped against her best friend. Sobs racked her small frame. Millie caught her with ease, gripping her tight and whispering words I couldn’t hear.
I tore my eyes away and turned to the officers. I had a job to do.
“He’s inside,” I said, voice flat, motioning toward the building. “Damian Voss.”
The cop nearest to me nodded, already speaking into his radio. “Backup’s here. We’ll take it from here.”
Good. Because if I had to be in that apartment one more second, with his blood on my hands, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to walk away without making sure he never touched her again.
I let out a slow breath and pulled out my phone. I gazed over to where a female officer was questioning Tate. Millie had her arms around her, but Tate’s green eyes, swimming with tears, remained fixed on me. My fingers hovered over her brother’s contact information for a half-second before pressing his name. He had to know what happened here tonight.
Dustin picked up on the second ring. “Griffin?”
“It’s Tate,” I said, voice tight. “Something happened.”
A beat of silence, then a sharp exhale. “What?”
“She’s safe now,” I said quickly, but the word safe felt like a fucking joke.Tate was a crying mess in Millie’s arms, her wholebody trembling like she was still trapped in that goddamn apartment.
“What happened?” Dustin demanded, his tone sharp.
I glanced at Tate. At her swollen lip, the red mark on her cheek. My grip tightened around my phone.I should have killed him.
“You need to get here,” I said simply. “Now.”
Another pause. “Is she hurt?”
I hesitated. This was the kind of pain you never healed from. The kind that haunted your dreams.
“She was attacked in her apartment by the same fucker from the grocery store. He was after her for money because of me.” I swallowed thickly. Admitting the truth out loud made me sick.
“Can I talk to her?”
“He held her against his chest with a knife on her throat, and he hit her. He fucking hit her.”
“Where is he now?”
