Page 53 of Beautiful Scars

My voice, when it finally comes, is cracked.

"I found her that night." Each word feels like confession and condemnation both.

"There was so much blood. She wasn't breathing. No pulse." The memory slams into me like a physical blow. "I checked. I fuckingchecked."

The edge of the bar is the only thing keeping me upright as the room spins out. Words I've never said to anyone but myself pour out of my mouth. "It was my fault. I should've been there to stop him—"

I cut myself off, but it's too late. The images flood in, impossible to stop. The black dress I bought her shredded and soaked with blood. Purple-black bruises mapping a world of violence across her skin. Deep slashes carved into her pale white flesh. I squeeze my eyes shut but the images stay.

"What do you mean, you were there?" Zane's voice could cut glass.

The coldness in his eyes tells me he's already piecing it together. There's no taking it back now, no way to stuff this truth back in the tidy little box I constructed for it. It’s all starting to crumble like sand.

These men—my brothers—they've only ever heard the sanitized version of what happened. I fed them lies because I couldn't face the truth. It took me years to bury the worst of that night, transform it into something I could live with—a version that didn't make me want to put a bullet in my head every time I closed my eyes.

But now...

"I need to find her." My voice is heavy with grief. "Right fucking now."

The room closes in, air turning thick and heavy. Bile rises, burning my throat making me feel sick. One of the girls breaks for the door. Her heels strike the floor like gunshots as she runs. Colt's right behind her, his worried voice calling after her.

"Jade, wait!"

The door slams behind them, and somehow their absence makes the weight of truth even heavier.

"You were there?" Zane grabs my arms, holding me in place. His voice cuts like a blade, his eyes boring into mine. "But you said... What else are you lying about?"

I meet his stare, feeling something vital crack in my chest. "Zane—"

My voice sounds foreign, distant over the ringing in my ears. "I owe you answers. All of you. But not here. Not now."

"Not here?" Zane advances, rage rolling off him in waves. "Notnow? We've gone through hell with you.Foryou. Seven years, Levi. Seven fucking years we've bled for you, killed for you, bought into your bullshit. And now we find out it was all lies?" His voice splinters on the last word, betrayal bleeding through the anger.

His accusation hits me hard. I flinch, nails breaking skin as I clench my fists, fighting to maintain control. "I thought she was dead, Zane," I force out through gritted teeth.

"I thought—" The words die in my throat. "I can't do this right now."

"Yeah, you can." He steps closer, fury radiating off him. "You don't get to drop this on us and walk away."

"I'm not walking away," I snarl, my tone sharp enough to make him pause. "But I need to find her. Rightfuckingnow, Z.Please."

His jaw locks as he searches my face, looking for something—remorse maybe, or a reason not to swing. Whatever he finds makes him step back, but the rage doesn't leave his eyes. "Fine," he spits, ice in his voice. "But when you're done? Every last detail, Levi. No more lies."

The challenge hangs between us. Without another word, I push past him and through the door. The bouncers don't try to stop me as I make my way through the club, following a couple dancers down a dark hallway. My heart hammers against my ribs as I spot what I'm looking for—a heavy metal door with a glowing exit sign.

The night air hits me like a slap in the face when I burst into the alley. Cold enough to drag me back from the edge I've been teetering on. I scan the shadows but there's nothing. Just the muffled thump of bass from inside.

I make it halfway across the parking lot before reality stops me cold.

Seven years. Seven years I've built an empire on vengeance, dedicated every breath to hunting down her killer. And not once—notonce—did I go back to Easton Creek. Couldn't face visiting the graves of the two women I loved most. One visit would have shown me the truth. But I was too much of a fucking coward.

My fists clench until they shake. Has she spent all this time thinking I abandoned her? That I never showed up that night? Or worse—that I found her bleeding out and just walked away? She has no idea how much she meant to me. Still means to me.

I check every car, but I already know. She's gone. Again. I've lost her again. But this time—this time I can fix it. I have to.

I storm back into the club, tearing through hallways, throwing open doors until I reach the dressing room. Startled screams greet me as I burst in, only to find myself face-to-face with a wall of muscle blocking my path.

"Enough."

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