Page 48 of Rampage

His thumb traces the curve of my cheek, tilting my face back up to meet his eyes. "You're not trapped anymore, Lily. You're free. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you stay that way."

The conviction in his voice makes my heart swell. I reach up, tracing the line of his jaw with my fingertips, feeling the rough stubble beneath my skin.

"What did I do to deserve you?" I whisper.

His expression darkens. "That's not how this works. You don't have to earn care or protection. You deserve it simply by existing."

The simplicity of his statement, the fundamental truth of it that contradicts everything I've been taught about my own worth, brings unexpected tears to my eyes.

Reid leans forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "I have to be at the hospital by noon," he says. "Orientation for the residency program."

"I'd forgotten about that," I admit, guilt washing over me. "I'm disrupting your life."

"No," he says firmly. "You're enhancing it. The club has arranged security for you while I'm gone. Mason will be here, and there will be someone watching the house."

The thought of Reid leaving, even for a few hours, sends a flutter of anxiety through my chest. I've become too dependent on his presence too quickly.

"I'll be fine," I assure him, forcing a smile. "Don't worry about me."

His eyes narrow slightly, seeing through my bravado. "Lily, I need you to understand something." His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my lower lip. "My priority is keeping you safe. The residency is important, but you come first."

"I can't ask you to put your career on hold for me," I protest.

"You're not asking. I'm choosing to." His voice brooks no argument. "And it's not an either-or situation. I can do both."

Before I can respond, his phone vibrates on the nightstand. Reid reaches for it, his expression turning serious as he reads the message.

"What is it?" I ask, anxiety returning.

"Tiffany," he says, sitting up. "Frank has been arrested for assault. Apparently, someone has seen him hitting his wife and he was taken in."

I fall back against the pillows, my mind racing. Frank was arrested for domestic violence, against Marlene, who always turned a blind eye to his abuse of the foster girls in their care.

"Is she okay?" I ask, surprised by my concern for a woman who never protected me.

Reid's thumb moves across his phone screen as he reads more details. "Tiffany says Marlene is in the hospital with a broken arm and facial contusions. A neighbor called the police."

"That's…" I struggle to find the right words. Part of me feels a vindictive satisfaction that Frank is finally facing some consequences, but another part aches for Marlene, who I now realize was likely another of his victims all along.

"This changes things," Reid says, setting his phone down and turning to face me fully. "He'll be in custody for at least forty-eight hours. Maybe longer if Marlene presses charges."

"She won't," I say with certainty. "She never stood up to him before."

Reid's expression is grim. "People surprise you sometimes. Especially when they hit rock bottom."

He slides out of bed, moving with purpose now. "I'm going to call my father, see if we can use this opportunity to our advantage."

I watch him pace the room, phone to his ear, speaking in low, urgent tones. The sudden shift from our intimate morning to tactical planning leaves me feeling unmoored. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to process what this means.

Frank in jail. Marlene in the hospital. The house empty.

A thought strikes me with such force that I gasp audibly. Reid turns immediately, his conversation forgotten as he focuses on me.

"What is it?" he asks, crossing to the bed in two long strides.

"The evidence," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "With Frank in jail and Marlene in the hospital?—"

"The house is empty," Reid finishes, understanding dawning in his eyes. "The lockbox with the photos and videos."

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