Page 66 of Redemption

“Pres, you still with me?”

I blink out of the memory to find Beckett closer now, kneeling in front of me.

“Sorry. I spaced out.”

“How long, Presley?”

I sigh. “Just over ten years.”

Beck’s sharp intake of air causes me to look up. His eyes are closed, and he’s taking deep breaths. He hasn’t said a word, but they’re filled with questions when he opens his eyes. Beckett lifts one of my hands and kisses each knuckle individually. “It kills me to see you hurting like this. Will you please consider talking to someone? A lot of therapists take virtual appointments if that’d make you more comfortable. If you’d like, I can get you the names of the people we’re working with for the lodge.”

“Why are you being nice? You were so angry with me just a little bit ago.”

“I’m not angry with you,” he corrects. “I’m frustrated with the situation.”

I hang my head, resting it on the top of Beckett’s. “I hate feeling so weak. I hate even more that you’re witnessing it. After everything I did... I don’t deserve your kindness.”

He wraps his fingers around each one of my calves, kneading the muscles. “I already told you. We were young. We both made mistakes. And as far as you being weak? I’m calling bullshit on that. The strength it must’ve taken to survive what you did, for as long as you did, is incredible, Presley. You just need to figure out how to be at peace with the past so you can look toward the future.”

“Hey, Beck?”

“Hmm?”

“I’d very much like your help findin’ someone to talk to.”

His warm breath blows on my hands as he exhales. “I’d very much like that too, darlin’.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

Beckett

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so homicidal in my life, and considering the shit I’ve seen on missions, that’s saying a lot. I thought I had been exposed to some of the sickest motherfuckers I’d ever known. Men who would use children as suicide bombers against American troops. Men who saw nothing wrong with kidnapping and repeatedly raping a fifteen-year-old girl because her father had screwed them over on a weapons deal. I had zero qualms about their deaths because the world is a better place without them. One thing I will give them credit for is they made no attempt to disguise their true selves. You knew what you were getting yourself into when dealing with them.

But someone like Sebastian Winters—fuck, I can’t even say his name in my head without wanting to hit something—he’s an entirely different breed of evil. He presents a perfectly polished image to the public—the same image that no doubt lured Presley in—but, behind closed doors, he repeatedly tortured a woman he swore to love for over ten fucking years. Those marks on her... fuck. When I saw the SW carved into her back at the curve of her spine, I damn near exploded out of my skin. That motherfucker branded her. It wasn’t enough to destroy her spirit; he had to stamp his name on her like she was fucking cattle. If Presley didn’t need me so badly right now, I’d be on the first plane to New York to hunt that bastard down.

Presley stirs in her sleep, murmuring something too low for me to hear. Christ, why would anyone intentionally hurt this woman? She’s so inherently good and pure of heart, which is hard to find these days. Why would someone want to soil that? I knew Pres went through some shit, but I had no idea it was this bad. After she calmed down earlier, we talked for a while until she got so worn out she needed a nap. She only told me bits and pieces—and I sure as shit wasn’t going to push her for more than she’s ready to give—but the few details I have, prove how resilient she is. Presley thinks that she’s weak, but I think she’s quite possibly the strongest person I’ve ever met. I know she believes there’s nothing left of the girl she used to be, but that’s not true. I can see it, I can feel it, but it’s definitely buried deep.

“Beckett, what are you doing over there?”

I push off the doorframe and take a seat next to her on the bed. “Just thinking.”

She leans into my touch when I softly pet her hair. “What time is it?”

I dig my phone out of my pocket and check the time. “Just after two.”

Her eyes widen. “I slept for five hours?”

My lips turn up on one side. “You clearly needed it.”

Presley frowns. “Why aren’t you workin’ right now? Have you been here the whole time?”

I nod, smoothing the crease between her brows. “Don’t worry about that; I’ve got it covered.”

I called Mr. J after she fell asleep and explained how I didn’t feel right leavin’ Presley today. She said her parents know some details about what she’d gone through, but she didn’t want them to know about her panic attack earlier, so I kept it vague. Her dad’s a sharp guy, though, so I’m sure he could read between the lines. He told me to take care of his baby girl, and he’d make arrangements to cover my work for the day.

“Beckett, I don’t want to get in the way of your job.”

“I said I’ve got it covered, Pres.” When she chews on the corner of her lip, I pull it free from her teeth. “Tell you what. How about you come with me to check out the progress on the arena?”

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