Page 12 of Veiled Vengeance

CHAPTER 4

SPENCER

Asher’s limp body gently sways from side to side. I need him to wake up. I need to tell him that his upbringing and past relationships don’t dictate ours. But I know his body needs the rest. Each punch Anthony and Pierce delivered to Asher’s abdomen felt like I was taking a hit to my own body.

And it happened because of me.

Anthony is going to continue to attempt to drive a wedge between us, but I won’t let him. Asher is a good man, no matter what he or anyone else says. A bad man doesn’t guard a woman night and day when she’s in danger. A bad man doesn’t cook a woman’s favorite meals for her.

I take up sentry from my taped prison. I may not be able to stop the blows from coming, but I can still watch out for him.

Iris—Dahliaslowly blinks sleep from her eyes and scans the room. There’s only one guard by the door, but he’s not paying any attention to us. I’m pretty sure he’s playing a game on his phone.

She sucks in a painful breath as she tries to loosen her stiff muscles. “How long have I been out?”

“A couple hours, I think.” The guard Anthony left with us hasn’t been rotated out, and the sun has disappeared from myline of sight. If we’re going by last night’s timetable, then we’re probably about halfway or so through his shift.

Her voice lacks emotion. “I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

That’s what she chooses to say right now? She’s sorry I watched her get gang raped? She’s the one with blood and dried sperm on the inside of her thighs, and she’s apologizing to me?

I know she’s not being sarcastic—it’s probably exhaustion mixed with shock or trauma. I may not know this version of her, but I’m not stupid. She’s been through shit and probably seen more than her fair share of the ugliness this world has to offer.

But she’s apologizing to me for her getting raped?

“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Those are the only words I seem to be able to get past my bewilderment.

“You’re probably angry with me.” Her eyes drop to the floor.

Am I? Yes.

Am I going to tell her that? No.

From what Anthony said, it sounds like she had no choice but to spy on me. But did she have to pretend to be my friend?

She reads my expression like the front page of the New York Times. “It wasn’t all fake. I was as real with you as I could be. But . . .”

“Your son.” I say it like I still can’t believe it, because I can’t.

She gives me a half smile. “Yeah. If I did well, then Anthony was going to let me see him.”

I want to be angry with her, but how can I kick someone when they’re already down? And she’s not just down. She was shoved in the sewer and forced to lie in the filth.

I try to keep things casual, but I can’t stop certain questions from slipping out. “Your real name is Dahlia?”

“Yeah. Dahlia Monroe.”

I nod my head as if that makes perfect sense when really, I’m freaking out right now. The betrayal hurts, but it’s more like a dull ache. A discomfort that will be gone in less than a week.

“And you have a son? But you’re only nineteen.”

She takes a heaving breath, and her eyes gather tears. “August is three years old. I had him when I was sixteen.”

“Were you . . .” How do I ask someone about the details of their tragic past? Someone I know, but don’t know.

“Kidnapped? Yes. I was taken when I was walking home from school.”

“Are you from New York? Wouldn’t someone have recognized you here?”

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