Page 11 of Unexpected Heroine

Now that Lettie is back with me, my fury at Freya returns. She’s been around the block a while. She knows better than to do something that fucking asinine.

“Don’t be mad at her,” Lettie begs, putting her palms on my bare chest. “It was my fault.” Her face contorts, and her lips twist to one side. “Actually, that’s not entirely true.” She sniffles, gasping a little like she’s fighting a sob. “It was also,” the sob breaks through, “Vanessa’s fault. She was...”

Her words trail off as she grows too restless to continue. She tugs at the hem of that ripped T-shirt with one hand and twirls the ends of her dirty, disheveled hair with the other. Backing away from me, she starts pacing in small circles and muttering under her breath.

Son of a bitch.

I’m supposed to keep her calm, not work her up.

Snapping back into the moment, I stand in front of her to halt her pacing. “Sugar bear, focus on me. It’s okay. I’ve got you. Let’s get into the shower. Plenty of time for you to tell me what happened afterward. I want to know everything, but right now, I need to take care of you.”

“But Freya first. She needs to?—”

“All right. I’ll text her first.”

Bending down, I scoop up my pants to retrieve my cell from the pocket. I’m taken aback when I realize there’s three of them in there—two are mine, and the third is from that trafficker I left bloody on the dirty carpet.

Should have killed him before she stopped me. If only Kri would have gotten Lettie out when I told her to.

I shake it off and shove the other two phones back into a pocket, keeping my personal cell in my palm. Without caring, I let the pants fall to the floor. The thud of the phones hitting the tile is slightly muffled by the fabric.

Unbelievable. I’m so fucking distracted that I see no problem in letting the devices clatter onto the floor. Not to mention how I usually keep my work cell nearby. What if someone at Redleg needs me?

For the first time, I don’t give a fuck. It just goes to show where my priorities are. The only thing that matters is taking care of my girl.

To ease her tension over Freya, I begin tapping out the message but freeze one sentence in. Perhaps she’d rather speak to her.

Glancing up, I find Lettie watching me with apprehension coating her entire body. Her shoulders are stiff, her brow is furrowed, and her lower lip is crimped between her teeth.

I offer her the phone. “Would you rather talk to her? I was just gonna text her, but if you’d prefer to speak to her?—”

“I-I-I,” she stammers. “Part of me wants to talk to her, but a bigger part of me doesn’t.”

I know you hate phone calls, Lettie, but come on.

As if she’s reading my mind, she responds to my unspoken thought. “It’s not because it’s a phone call. It’s that I feel horrible for what I’ve done to her. She must’ve been beside herself when she realized what happened. And you too. It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry.”

I shake my head, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Wrong or right, her feelings are valid. I don’t want to stop her from having them and working through this. Although I disagree wholeheartedly, I shouldn’t dismiss her viewpoint.

“We’ll talk more about how it’s not your fault later, sweetness. Nothing you did gave them the right to do this to you. For now, I’ll text Freya to tell her you’re safe with me so she stops worrying. I’ll also tell her we’ll call her tomorrow morning. After that, I’m getting you cleaned and fed.”

Her chest caves with a haggard exhale. Tears fill her eyes, quickly overflowing and spilling down her cheeks.

After I quickly finish the text and hit send, I set the phone down on the counter and bring her back into my embrace. “What is it, baby? Talk to me so I can help you.”

Her chin wobbles, and her voice quavers. She refuses to meet my eyes. “I’m so sorry for what I did to you both. I’m so sorry.”

Cupping her cheeks, I lower myself to her eye level. “It wasn’t your fault, Violet. You have nothing to be sorry for. And I promise you they’ll pay for what they did. They’ll never hurt you again. They’ll never hurt anyone again. But it was not your fault. Do you understand me?”

She sniffles, fighting to stave off another onslaught of tears. Her tiny nods gradually grow slower and more pronounced.

Once she’s a bit calmer, I tug at the dirty T-shirt. “Let’s get this off.”

I’m gonna fucking burn it later.

At first, she lets me lift it. But I only get it up to her waist before she stops me, locking her hands on my wrists. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

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