Page 45 of Rampage

I shake my head, unable to meet his eyes now. "No. There was another foster father before him. When I was fourteen." The admission feels like pulling glass from a wound, painful but necessary. "He would come into my room at night. Touch me. Make me touch him."

"Jesus, Lily." Reid's voice breaks on my name. His hands cup my face with such gentleness, I almost can't bear it. "I'm so sorry that happened to you."

"I got moved after six months," I continue, the words spilling out now that I've started. "The wife found out. She blamed me, said I was seducing him, but the social worker believed me. That's how I ended up with Frank and Marlene."

"Out of the frying pan," Reid murmurs, his thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen.

"The system is broken," I whisper. "It's supposed to protect kids, but sometimes it just gives predators easy access."

Reid's expression hardens, determination replacing the sorrow. "We're going to make this right, Lily. Not just for you, but for all those girls. For every child Frank and men like him have hurt."

The water has grown cold around me, but I barely notice. Something warm blooms in my chest, not just the comfort of being understood, but the fierce certainty that Reid means every word. That he sees my pain not as weakness, but as evidence of my strength.

"The water's getting cold," he says softly. "Let's get you out of here."

I rise from the tub, water streaming from my body. For a brief moment, I'm acutely aware of my nakedness, but there's nothing predatory in Reid's gaze, only warmth and protection as he wraps the towel around me, enveloping me in its softness.

"Thank you," I murmur as he tucks the edges of the towel securely around me.

His hands linger on my shoulders. "For what?"

"For seeing me," I answer. "All of me. The scars, the damage… and not looking away."

Something shifts in his expression, a fierce tenderness that makes my heart race. "I see you, Lily. And I'm not going anywhere."

He guides me from the bathroom to the bedroom, where he's laid out a pair of soft pajamas from the shopping bags. "Get dressed," he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Dinner's waiting."

As he turns to leave, I catch his wrist. "Reid?"

He pauses, looking back at me with a question in his eyes.

"You make me feel safe," I tell him, the words inadequate for the depth of what I'm trying to express. "I didn't know what that felt like before you."

The smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise after the longest night. "Good," he says. "That's how it should be."

In the kitchen, I find Reid plating pasta, the rich aroma of garlic and herbs filling the air. He's changed into sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that clings to every muscle, his feet bare on the hardwood floor. The domesticity of the scene makes my heart flutter.

"Perfect timing," he says, looking up with a smile that transforms his usually serious face. "Hope you like fettuccine."

"It smells amazing." I slide onto a barstool at the kitchen island, watching him move with surprising grace for such a large man.

He sets a plate before me, then pours two glasses of water. "Not the most sophisticated meal, but it's one of the few things I can cook reliably."

"You cook?" I can't keep the surprise from my voice.

Reid chuckles, the sound warming me from the inside. "Don't sound so shocked. My mother would never have allowed her son to reach adulthood without basic kitchen skills."

"Grace seems like an incredible woman," I say, twirling pasta around my fork.

"She is." His expression softens with affection. "She saved me and Leah. Gave us a real home when we'd given up on ever having one."

I take a bite, the rich flavors exploding on my tongue. "This is delicious."

"Don't sound so surprised," he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I have many talents."

"I'm discovering that," I reply, surprising myself with the flirtatious tone.

His eyes darken slightly, but he maintains his composure, taking a sip of water. "How are you feeling? Really?"

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