Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189782 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 759(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Lights that haven’t had power since before Denver died.
I hesitate, my eyes locked on the nest of bedding still piled near the hearth.
“Looks like Rhett only remodeled the main rooms.” She moves farther into the bedroom, her hand trailing along the mantle as she looks around, her expression unreadable.
Finally, she turns back to us, her eyes meeting Monty’s with a look filled with something I can’t quite name.
“Denver raped me in this room.” She points at the bedding on the floor. “I slept there with Leo and Kody during the darkest months of my life. We made good memories and bad ones.”
The tension in Monty’s posture matches mine. I have my own memories of what was done here. I know exactly what this room represents.
“This is where it stops.” She looks at both of us, her voice steady, resolute. “The pain, the abuse, the nightmares, it all stops here. We’re going to step into that shower and wash it off. Then we’re going to go home. We’re going to take our Wolf home and never look back.”
Without a word, Monty scoops her into his arms, his expression hard but his touch infinitely gentle as he cradles her against his chest.
The raw, unspoken need in the way he holds her is stunning. She’s the most precious thing in the world, and he knows it.
He carries her into the bathroom and lowers her feet to the floor.
The sound of water rushing through the pipes tells me Kody and Wolf are still using the upstairs shower.
I turn on the faucet, setting the temperature on a warm, comforting stream. The kind of warmth that washes away the cold and the dark.
But inside, I’m still burning, coiled tight with a fury I can’t shake. The bloodlust is still snarling and clawing, making it impossible to be anything other than rough.
Monty’s hands move with care as he unties her robe, peeling the fabric away from her skin.
I step in to help, my fingers brushing against his as we work together to remove the last barrier between her and the water.
The robe falls to the floor, and I swallow hard, my chest tight as I take in the sight of her. She was bruised. Drugged. Raped. But she’s still here, fighting.
Monty and I move in sync, shedding our clothes quickly, our eyes never leaving her.
My fingers are clumsy as I pull off my shirt, the fabric sticking to the dried blood smeared across my skin. I still feel the heat of the hunt, the violence we unleashed. It’s hard to let it go and soften the edges when every part of me remains out there in the hills, killing with a vengeance.
The water hits my skin, washing away the blood, the dirt, the sweat, but it doesn’t wash away the knowledge of what was done to her. I scrub at my skin, the movements harsh and punishing, as if I can force the darkness away and scrape off the layers of brutality.
Monty guides her under the spray, his touch so different from mine. Soothing, gentle, careful. He has that ability to be soft when the world is hard, to be calm when everything else is chaos. And right now, she needs that. She needs him.
Together, we wash the remnants of the assault from her body, rinsing away the violence that was forced upon her. I follow his lead, my touch firm but careful, doing what I can to help, even though I want to send my fists through the wall.
The water turns pink as it swirls down the drain, taking with it the stains of the night, but it doesn’t take away the memories. It doesn’t erase what was done to her, what she had to endure. But we do what we can. We clean her. We hold her. We let her know she’s not alone.
When we’re done, I grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist. Then I meet Monty’s eyes.
He knows me well and understands the war inside me. He also knows that Frankie needs more than just a shower.
She needs affection, reassurance, a loving touch. I can’t give her what she needs without fucking her into the wall.
Monty and I exchange a wordless understanding.
She sees it and nods. “You’re on the right track, but I’ll spell it out so we’re all clear. I need you to erase his touch. Remove it. Replace it with yours.” Her voice breaks, choked with emotion. “I need you inside me. Right now.”
I lean against the vanity as he turns and wraps her in his arms, pulling her close, his lips finding hers in a kiss that’s soft, tender, and flowing with love.
She melts, clinging to him as his hands move over her skin. With each touch, the tension in her body eases.
His lips trail over her cheeks, neck, and shoulders as if he can kiss away the bruises, the hurt, the memories.