Page 138 of Saving Her

No.

This is the right thing to do.

Theonlything.

I hold tighter, increasing her struggle. “I’ve got you.”

“You’re a monster,” she shrieks, wiggling one arm free. She thumps my chest. Slaps my face. Scratches my cheek.

“No,hewas—Luther.” I take her fury, not letting her hatred penetrate. “Hehurt you. Hewas the monster.I’d never raise a hand to you, Penny. I’d never do the things he did. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

She has to let it all out. Every ounce of the pain and suffering. I won’t let her go through another day clinging to her abuse.

“Let me have your worst.” I loosen my arms, allowing her space to whack harder into me.

“Let me go,” she wails, raising her face, her mouth a breath from mine. So pretty. So tortured. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

“No.”

She strengthens her fight. Beating. Clawing. Bashing. “You fucking bastard.” The first tear escapes, the glistening path trekking down her cheek like a break in the most arid drought. “I hate you.”

“Hate me all you like. I’m not letting you go until you get this out of your system.”

“Ican’tget it out of my system,” she screams. “This is me. This is who I am.”

“No, Pen, this is who you needed to be when you were around him. You needed to fight. You needed to attack and protect. You don’t need to do that now. Not anymore.”

“Let me go.” She uses both forearms to push at my chest, her unyielding strength fucking admirable. “Please, let me go.”

“I will, baby. I promise. Once you give in.”

“I can’t.” More tears escape, both eyes drenched in sorrow. She’s still fighting, still feral. But her aggression tapers. Her hits lose their ferocity. The clawing and scratching packs less of a sting as she begins to sob. “Please, Luca. I can’t be weak. I can’t be vulnerable.”

My pulse spikes at her fragility, and there’s no restraint that could stop me grabbing her chin to force her gaze to mine. “You could never be weak. You hear me? You’re stronger than you know. But you need to let your guard down, shorty. It’s time to let me help you.”

She blinks back at me, one tear following the next, her eyes unfocused as if she’s no longer listening.

If only it were that easy for me to switch off to her suffering.

I’ve been through combat. Killed more men than I can count. I’ve seen dead children and war zones that resemble nothing but blood and broken limbs. And through it all I detached, needing the sterility to work autonomously.

But not now.

Not with her.

She’s stripped me bare. Made me the fucking weak one.

“Why?” she wails, the moisture trail on her cheek becoming the backdrop to a waterfall. “Why couldn’t you leave me alone? You should’ve just left me in that house.”

And there it is—her agonizing truth.

It’s worse than I thought.

Deeper.

Darker.

This breathtakingly beautiful woman, with her warrior strength and harrowing selflessness, wishes she was back with Luther. Because there’s comfort in routine, even in the worst of conditions.

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