Page 117 of Slaughter

I don’t answer.

She bows her head and sighs. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “Sorry for what they did to you.”

Her words make me stop, and my teeth grind. I spin back around. “You have no idea what they did to me,” I shout as tears sting my eyes. I’m so tired of people looking at me like that. Like I’m fucking broken, even if I do feel it.

“I know they hurt you,” she says softly, lowering her eyes to the floor. “I know they treat you like you’re nothing.” She swallows.

The sad part is that even though Avery and Tristan weren’t the ones who did this to me, they have still treated me like nothing. Well, Avery has anyway. Tristan just helped him set me up.

I go to walk away again, but she stops me. “Please?” she begs, and I turn back around. “Take this.” She stands from the bed and offers me a card. “Call me whenever you need to just talk to.”

My eyes meet hers. “That won’t do me any good.” She frowns at my words. “I’m not allowed to use the phone.” Then I turn and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and hoping she won’t follow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

AVERY

WHEN TRISTAN AND I WALK back into my study, I grab the scotch and pour us each a glass. “So what’s up with you and Chloe?” I ask.

“Don’t,” he says in warning.

“Just curious.”

“Well, don’t be,” he snaps.

She means something to him. I saw it in the way he spoke to her on the phone. The way he smiled when he heard her voice. But he had said she went through something similar to what Bunny went through, and it makes my chest tighten. Is that why they aren’t more? ’Cause she can’t have more? Is that how Bunny will be now? Will she ever be able to forgive me? I know I’ll never be able to forgive myself for not getting to her sooner. For not seeing that Darrell was a fucking lying bastard who betrayed me and my men.

“Hello?”

We both look up to see Chloe entering the study. Her eyes go straight to mine, and I straighten my shoulders at the look of judgment in them. “How did it go?” I ask her.

“I’m not allowed to discuss—”

“I think this is a little different than your other cases,” my brother interrupts her.

“It is,” she agrees.

“Then why don’t you help him out?”

She narrows her eyes on him, and he takes a drink of his scotch, eyeing her back. I’ve seen my brother in action with women. I’ve walked in on him fucking one of his whores before. And believe me when I say they fall at his feet. They lick his fucking shoes. But this one—I have a feeling she does no such thing.

She turns her murderous glare on me. “Do I need to call the authorities?”

“What?” Tristan barks out.

“No!” I answer.

She places her hands on her narrow hips. “Is she being held here against her will?”

I don’t answer.

“Did she tell you that?” Tristan demands.

She turns to face him. “She didn’t have to. The way he just totally ignored my question answered it.”

He lets out a long breath, running his hand through his hair. “Things with Presleigh … are complicated.”

“No, it’s not,” she argues. “She is either here on her own free will or she is not.”

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