Page 118 of Slaughter

“She’s not,” I state.

“That’s what I thought.” She reaches into her back pocket and pulls out her cell. “I’m calling the police …”

Tristan yanks the phone out of her hand and growls. “I didn’t have you come here to save her.”

“Then why did you have me come here?” she snaps.

He takes a step back from her, shaking his head as if he refuses to answer that question.

“Look, I don’t know what you two are up to or what you’ve done to her, but that poor woman has been physically and mentally abused. She refuses to talk to me, and I think that is because she is terrified of you two.”

“We saved her,” Tristan informs her. But I don’t feel that way. If I hadn’t brought her here, then she would have never been taken from me. I’m at total fault.

She gives a rough laugh. “Who did you save her from, Tristan? Because I know when I was saved, I was grateful.”

They begin to argue, and I remove myself from the situation. I couldn’t care less at this point what they have to say.

PRESLEIGH

I step out of the shower and grab the towel to dry off with.

“We need to talk.”

Looking up, I see Avery standing in the bathroom, leaning against the countertop with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. It reminds me of a few weeks ago when I first saw him in here. So much has changed since then.

“I don’t want to talk,” I say flatly.

He sighs. “You should have spoken to Chloe.”

I narrow my eyes on him. “A heads-up would have been nice.”

“You need help—”

“Excuse me?” I snap, interrupting him.

“No one can go through what you did and be okay. I saw the look in your eyes. You were beaten down. And now that I know he hurt you eleven years ago…” His words cut off, and he looks away from me. As though it’s too painful to face me.

My anger rises. “I don’t need help!” I’m in denial. We both know it, but I refuse to admit it.

He removes his hands from his pockets and crosses his arms over his chest. A sign that he’s getting irritated as well. “What is so wrong with admitting that you need to talk to someone?”

“I don’t need someone asking me if I dressed too slutty. Or if I had led them on only to change my mind at the last minute,” I snap.

“Chloe said that to you?” he demands.

I shake my head. “Forget it, Avery.”

“I won’t forget it.” He sighs. “I can’t forget it.” He runs a hand through his hair. His eyes plead with mine. “Please help me understand what I can do for you, Bunny.”

Tears start to sting my eyes. “You can’t do anything for me,” I say, and my voice breaks.

“There has to be something,” he urges.

I bite my bottom lip and then let the towel drop to the floor. “You can fuck me.”

His eyes stray from my neck down to my ribs. They still show. I haven’t eaten much. The pain pills have taken away my appetite. His eyes go to the bandage around my upper thigh. “I can’t …” he says through clenched teeth.

“Is it because it was your dad was who raped me?” I ask, and he flinches.

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