Page 39 of Freed By Wrath

“I don’t know.”

“You do.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I honestly don’t.”

She studies my face through the mask.

“Valerie…” I straighten, every muscle in my body tense. “We’re all police officers.”

“I know.”

“What happened tonight…” I exhale slowly. “It could end our careers.”

“I know.”

“It could end everything we’ve worked for.”

“I know that too.”

“So please…” My voice lowers. “Tell me honestly.”

I swallow.

“Are you going to report us?”

She blinks. Then she actually looks offended.

“Isaac.” She takes another tentative step, close enough now that I catch the lingering scent of perfume, one I would never associate with her, but somehow makes her look more… powerful—burnt vanilla and dark spices.

It’s not as strong as it was when I brought her to the apartment, but it still clings to her skin, mingling now with the clean scent of soap and the perfume of my best friends.

“Look at me,” she asks, and I do.

Her eyes search mine through the mask.

“Do you really believe I’d walk into a police station and accuse the three men who…” Her voice catches. She swallows before trying again. “…who gave me the first night I’ve felt like myself in years?”

My heartbeat stumbles, but she only lets out a quiet, humorless laugh.

“Tonight was a complete disaster, yes.” She shakes her head slowly, as though she’s still trying to make sense of it herself. “I found out my fiancé cheated on me with my own cousin.” Another laugh, although sharper this time. “I realized I spent eight years making myself smaller because I thought that’s what love looked like.” Her fingers twist the hem of Slash’s shirt. “Changing the way I dressed, the way I laughed, the way I spoke, the things I wanted, while convincing myself that being in a relationship was exactly that.”

She looks up at me, and a tear slips free before she can stop it.

“I blamed Daniel, I blamed Serena…“ Her voice cracks.” I blamed the whole world.”

She takes another shaky breath. “But mostly…” Her eyes close. “I blame me.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She smiles, and God. I’ve never seen a smile look so broken and simultaneously so beautiful.

“It is, Isaac. I accepted it.” She doesn’t say it defensively. She says it with heartbreaking certainty. “I defended him, even thanked him.” Every word seems to hurt more than the last.

“I looked at the woman I used to be and decided she was too much.”

Silence settles between us and my heart caves in on itself, every beat heavier than the last, while every muscle in my body strains with the need to cross the space between us.

To hold her. To tell her she’s wrong. To somehow heal eight years of a damaged relationship with a single touch.