Page 73 of The Scars We Keep
“Yeah,” I say softly.“I know.”
“He wanted information,” she says.
“And?”
Her eyes flash with something fierce and defiant, and for the first time since I found her out here, I catch a flicker of that fire I know so well.
“I told him to go fuck himself.”
Of course she did.
A dark, helpless smile tugs at my mouth despite the murder building in my veins and the rage coiled tight in my chest that I can feel it pressing against my ribs.Because that’s exactly what she would do.That’s exactly who she is.Even cornered, even hurt, she doesn’t break.She bites.
“That’s my wife,” I say proudly.
I brush my thumb carefully along the edge of the bruise, tracing the faint purple shadow with a touch so gentle it contradicts everything I’m feeling inside.My jaw tightens as I look at it, memorizing its exact shape and placement so I can return it tenfold to the man who put it there.
“Rafe told me he hurt you,” I say quietly, my eyes still on the mark.“You should know I am going to kill him for that.”
Her lips press together for a moment before she says, “Take a number.”
I almost laugh, but the sound dies in my throat.
“Come inside,” I say, dropping my hand for her to take.
She looks at my hand, then shifts her eyes back up to mine.
“No.”
“Bella—”
“I’m not done.”
“With what?”
“Sitting here until I stop wanting to scream.”
Jesus Christ.
I lower myself onto the bench beside her.She slowly turns her head, her brows drawing together as I do so.“What are you doing?”
“Waiting with you.”
“You’ll get wet.”
“Bit late for that.”
That almost earns me a smile.Almost.The corner of her mouth twitches, barely, and for a second I see something in her eyes soften.
We sit in silence, side by side, as the storm rages around us.
“I meant it,” I say after a long moment.“What I said before.I’m going to kill him for touching you.”
She doesn’t look at me.She just keeps staring out into the rain.“I know.”
After a while, she says quietly, “You’re back early.”
“I am.”
