Page 92 of Ruthless Chaos
A clammy hand on my forearm startles me.
It’s Allie. She’s…crouched right beside me?
Her eyes are filled with fresh tears, her expression tight from terror. My chest squeezes, a new wave of anger heating my blood.
I’m the only person who is supposed to scare her.
The scream came from her.
She’s mumbling something, but whatever he gave her has her so fucked up that her words come out in bits and pieces.
I clench my fist, but she puts a shaky hand over mine.
Or is itmyhand that’s shaking? I’m not sure.
She wants me to stop.
I’m stunned that even after he violated her, she wants me to spare him. I stare at her for a few heartbeats—she’s too pure.
Her heart is better than mine.
I shrug my jacket off and use it to cover her, as her dress is in tatters. When I pick her up bridal-style, her body relaxes in my grip. She rests her head against my chest, squeezing her eyes shut.
There’s still a frown on her face, but the lines on her forehead disappear.
She’s safe now.
At the end of the corridor, I climb the steps to the third floor and take the breezeway to the wing that houses my room. Allie doesn’t stir, and I gaze down at her, committing her face to my memory.
What would have happened if the assessment wasn’t put off?
I would never forgive myself.
I’ve already let down a woman I cared about once in my life.
I won’t make the same mistake twice.
My room takes up nearly the entire floor and comprises an entire suite—a kitchenette, two bedrooms, a sitting area, a bar, and a full five-piece bathroom.
I carry her to the bed, intending to get her one of my shirts to wear.
But she doesn’t want to let me go.
Her soul-piercing hazel eyes are filled with dread. She’s probably afraid something will happen to her if I leave her alone.
I stroke her temples, then wish I hadn’t. I’ve smeared her with blood.
“I’m just going to wash my hands and get you something to wear,” I whisper. She searches my face, then reluctantly releases me.
Quickly, I rinse my hands and take one of my t-shirts from the closet.
I find her sitting by the edge of the bed, hugging her knees. Her shoulders relax when she notices I’ve returned. Allie has always been expressive, but now I can read her easily.
Too easily. I hate what he’s done to her.
I pick her up and take her to the bathroom.
Though I’ve never had much use for such a grand vanity, the lengthy stretch of marble between the his-and-hers sinks finally comes in handy. I place her there and slip the t-shirt over her head. The rest of her dress comes undone in my hand.
