Page 65 of Vow of Vengeance
I can see her embarrassment on the apples of her cheeks. Something tells me not a lot of things embarrass her, and that shouldn't be one of them.
"Don't apologize." I tell her earnestly. "Never apologize for that."
She tips her head a little, and I watch her think through something before she glances back up at me. "It's not rude to ask." She says finally. "I know you're thinking it."
I open my mouth, but I don't know what the hell to say in response to that.
"It feels pretty fucking rude." I laugh. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be nosy, I just..."
"That's human nature." She laughs, too, dragging her nails slowly over her lips as she thinks. "I volunteered a random piece of information, of course you're curious about it." She sighs. "I... had a hysterectomy."
"I'm so sorry." I tell her, because that sounds painful and horrible. My research when I was trying to conceive led me down a few frightening alleys, including ectopic pregnancies and ruptured tubes and partial versus total hysterectomies. I also know some people elect to do them, when their period pain is too great and their uterus causes nothing but issues. That's one thing I have going for me, and maybe why conception was so hard to begin with. My periods have never been heavy... or regular.
"Well, it's not your fault." She shrugs. "It's fine. The damn thing was useless anyway."
I laugh, just enough that she relaxes in the chair across from me.
I study her face, deciding that while it may not have been rude to ask why she doesn't have a uterus, it absolutely is rude to ask about what happened to her face.
Violet smirks. "Why so serious?"
I stare at her in horror, not even bothering to hide it as my brain connects her scars with the first movie I watched with Vin, the villain with his face paint to cover his scars... scars that were never explained.
"I'm sorry." Violet chuckles. "I couldn't resist. But your face..." She presses a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter.
I don't know why, but it's infectious. I laugh too, because even though we're talking about her scars, she's making fun ofmyface. And for good reason. I probably look white as a sheet.
She doubles over in her amusement, and I laugh so hard I can feel the lasagna I ate way too much of threatening to come back up. I don't even know if anything about it is objectively funny, or if it's just the way we're feeding off of each other, but I can't stop laughing.
Tears are slipping from the corners of my eyes by the time there's a knock on the door, and Violet recovers first, her laughter slowly subsiding as she goes to the door.
I watch her look out the peephole, and then she turns to waggle her eyebrows at me. "There's a package for you."
"A package?" I ask, standing slowly as I try to shake off the last of my humor. I haven't ordered anything, but I suppose Declan could have.
She shrugs, opening the door enough that she can take a step out onto the porch to grab the parcel on the ground.
The figure that rushes at her moves so fast I don't even see him until he slams into her, throwing her body to the ground. Her head knocks hard against the floor, and the attacker grips her jaw, searching her face for something. He doesn't find it though.
I'm turning to grab the gun that Declan left for me, but it's too far. The man looks up, noticing me, and gets to his feet.
He's upon me quick, his weight pinning me to the floor as I struggle to get out from beneath him.
It's useless, and terrifying, and everything in me reels in horror as a strange feeling like Deja vu pulls at me.
Panic claws me from the inside out, and I do my best to slip out from him, but a hand grips the back of my neck and knocks my head into the ground... hard enough to make the world blur in an instant.
Everything in me goes weightless, like I'm floating in water.
"There's my fucking wife."
Declan
Jesus fucking Christ.
Bad turned to worse turned to a fucking nightmare.
I am not equipped to deal with this.
