Page 19 of Relentless Knight

“I think he got off on frightening me though. And I’m not sure how far he would have taken it if Vinny hadn’t told him they were just supposed to keep my injuries artificial.” Quinn shudders, goose bumps rising on her skin, and she closes her eyes as a memory takes over. Then they snap open once more to find me.

“He used one of those hard, riding crops on me, and he laughed every time I screamed.”

Tears start to stream down her face once more, and I would give anything to banish them. It’s pure agony to watch Quinn cry, but I know better than to interrupt because she’s processing. And I desperately hope that telling her story will help her work through the trauma.

“He mocked me, tormented me—Vinny did too. But the guy who beat me seemed to like it when I begged him to stop.” Quinn hiccups again, and her eyes drop to the bed as she struggles through a fresh wave of emotion.

Blood boiling to hear what she endured, I can’t stand it any longer. Reaching out carefully so as not to frighten her, I take Quinn’s delicate, talented hand in both of mine, willing her story to be over because I don’t think I can take another second of her pain.

She gasps, her lips parting, and her eyes lock on our hands momentarily. Then they travel to my face. And a soft smile warms her eyes, bringing a hint of color back to her pale cheeks.

“I’m okay,” she says more confidently. “Or I will be. I think talking about it helped.”

God, I hope so because her nightmares were agonizing to listen to.

“Thank you, Lance,” she murmurs. “For listening.”

“Anytime.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze, intensely aware of the purple ring of bruises around her wrists.

“Would you…stay until I fall asleep?” she asks tentatively, her cheeks flushing a healthier shade of pink.

I know how hard it must be for her to ask. Quinn’s about as independent as they come, but to help her sleep, I would do just about anything.

“Of course.”

Relief washes across her features, and her fingers wrap more snuggly around mine as she settles back into her pillows, getting comfortable once more. I keep her hand in mine as her eyes drift slowly closed.

And even after her breathing grows slow and steady, I can’t bring myself to leave her side—not when she finally seems to have found a moment’s peace.

I don’t know how long I sit up watching her.

But the next thing I know, someone’s tapping my shoulder. And I lift my forehead from its resting place on the edge of her bed as I wake with a start. I’m still holding her hand, and it takes me a moment to realize the light filtering into the room means it’s morning.

I slept through the night at Quinn’s bedside.

Turning my stiff neck, I find Killian standing beside me. He gestures silently for me to join him in the hall. I carefully ease my hand out of Quinn’s before I follow, wondering if Killian’s going to be pissed for finding me in her room again. It’s strange to think that was only yesterday.

It feels like so much has happened since then.

Still, I feel the need to explain myself. “She was having nightmares,” I say as soon as the door closes behind me.

But Killian just waves my words away. “I need you to do something for me. I know it won’t be your favorite assignment, but I can’t trust anyone else to do it.”

10

QUINN

The headaches and dizziness are gone within twenty-four hours. Still, I take several days off of school, lying in bed to recover physically from my injuries. And while the welts slowly fade into faint red marks, the bruises gradually shifting from purple and black into a sickly mottled green color, my nightmares only seem to get worse.

Night after night, I jolt awake, my aggressors’ visages imprinted in my mind’s eye. But after that first night, Lance hasn’t come to check on me, even when the dreams get bad enough that I wake in a cold sweat.

More than once, I’ve been tempted to ask him to stay until I drift off because I slept so soundly the night that he did. But I won’t. I don’t want to appear weak and frightened—especially to Lance—and he has better things to do with his time than tuck me in at night like a child. Which he probably already sees me as most of the time.

He has continued to spend the night in the room across the hall, however. I know because I can hear his hushed conversations with Killian through the door late at night, andwhen Cheryl brings me my meals, Lance often stops in to check on me and chat—well, let me chat.

By the weekend, I know I can’t keep hiding in my room, no matter how tempting it might be. I would love nothing more than to keep my head tucked into my shell.Why would I risk sticking my neck out again?Nothing is worth enduring the experience I did. And at the same time, I can’t just give up on life, throw it all away over one traumatic event.

So rather than take my breakfast in my room, I march down to the dining room to join my brother, Natasha, and Lance.

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