Page 127 of Slaughter

“I told you!” I shout, my hands fisting tightly. “My words weren’t enough? You didn’t believe me?” That was always my biggest fear. What would Avery have done if he hadn’t changed his number? Would he have believed me? If so, would he have come to me? He sat back and watched girls be treated no different than how his father did me and did nothing. Why would he for me?

“Of course, I did,” he snaps. “I guess I’m just a sick son of a bitch.”

“I hate you,” I growl. How could he do that to me?

His features soften, and I see tears start to well up in his eyes. “Bunny,” he takes a step toward me, and I take one back. He stops.

“Don’t!” I say, my voice trembling just like my body. “Don’t come near me, Avery!” I say and then run around him. I yank the door open and run down the hallway, almost tripping over my own feet. I make a turn and let out a scream of surprise when I run into a hard body.

“Whoa!” he announces when a set of large hands grabs my shoulders.

“Don’t touch me!” I cry, pulling away.

Tristan throws his hands up. And his eyes look over my body as if to check for bruises or blood. And I don’t care that I’m only dressed in underwear and Avery’s T-shirt. “You’re okay. I’m not gonna hurt you, Presleigh.”

I wrap my arms around myself, and his eyes soften, blowing out a long breath. I don’t miss the cut on his lip, and the shiner on his eye. “Did you watch it too?” I ask, my voice wavering.

He runs a hand through his hair, remaining silent. That says it all.

“Give me your phone,” I demand softly.

His brows pull together. “Presleigh, I can’t…”

“Please,” I beg, licking my lips and taste the salt from my tears. “I need to talk to someone.” He tilts his head to the side. “I need to talk to Chloe.”

He pulls his cell out of his pocket and dials a number before placing it to his ear. He turns his back to me and whispers into it. Too low for me to hear what he says. Then he hangs up and turns back to face me. “She’s on her way.”

“Here?”

He nods once. “She is still here in Vancouver.”

I look down at the floor, taking in a deep breath. My heart feeling broken all over again. How could Avery do this to me? “Thank you,” I whisper and then walk away, making my way to the formal living room. Not wanting to go back to his room. Not wanting to be so close to Avery.

I enter the cold room and fall onto the brown leather couch and stare straight ahead at nothing.

I watched the tapes of what Victor did to you.

Fresh tears run down my face. Eleven years and I had moved on. Or so I thought. I was doing better. I had accepted my fate and tried to make the best of a life that no longer meant anything to me.

I was seventeen and pregnant. I was going to be a teenage mother. We weren’t ready for a baby because we were babies ourselves. At least that’s what I told myself when I found out I lost it. But honestly, that was all I wanted. Avery and our child.

Beep …

Beep …

Beep …

The noise is too loud. The light too bright even with my eyes closed. My head pounds, and my face throbs. It hurts to breathe. And my sides—they hurt so badly. Between my legs …

Beep …

Beep …

“Stop … it,” I croak.

I feel pain, but I’m also numb at the same time. Lightheaded. Maybe I’m spinning.

“Presleigh?”

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