Page 118 of Wanted Beta

“Oh,” she murmurs. “It’s Elizabeth Moore. M, double O, R, E.”

I write it down and sign the check at the bottom before I hand it over to her.

She smiles wanly without looking at it as she takes it. “Thanks.”

“You sure you’re okay?” I ask. “You look a little … sick, or something.”

“I’m fine,” she assures me, a bit too quickly.

I toss the check book back into the safe and lock it.

Then, I open the door and she darts out into the hall, one hand on the check, the other scratching at her wrist. Something’s definitely wrong.

I switch off the light and close the office door as I step into the hall.

“Sorry, I should have asked if you were okay with enclosed spaces,” I apologize.

She nods, and then shakes her head. “It’s not … I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.” I take hold of her arms gently, and I look at her until she meets my gaze.

When she does, I know. She’s not fine.

“It’s nothing. Honestly.”

I glance at her wrist and see she’s been scratching until it’s red and the skin is peeling.

“This isn’t nothing,” I tell her as I pull her sleeve up just enough to see she hasn’t just been scratching. There’s bruising and scraped skin all the way around. I check her other arm and find the same thing. These are rope burns. She was bound by her wrists, and it must have been recent. “Who did this to you?”

Her face is flushed when I look up at her. “It’s not how it looks. It’s stupid, really.”

She’s still trembling, and now her eyes are watery.

“I can’t let you leave if you don’t tell me how this happened.”

“It’s going to make me sound like a dumb blonde.”

“I know you’re not.”

She sighs and then looks down. “I was on a study date with a classmate. He … We went to his place, and he drugged me.”

My body fills with rage as I listen, struggling to stay focused once I know someone’s out there who hurt my mate.

“Nothing happened,” she adds quickly, brushing away a tear that falls. “I mean, nothing like you probably think. I just … I woke up in his closet, tied up to chair with my mouth gagged, and headphones over my ears. He had a tiny little TV in front of me, and this weird instructional video on how to be a good traditional woman for your man was playing.”

Her voice cracks at the end, but she rolls her eyes.

“I was stuck in that chair for a day, with that video on repeat, until my friend’s mom came looking and found me. It was awful. I never should have agreed to go to his place.”

“Who is he?” I ask, unable to mask the bite in my tone.

I need to find him and make him regret what he did.

He should hurt worse than she does.

“His father was angry with him,” she says. “He’s being punished. I don’t want to have to think about him again. I knew he was bad news. I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked me over.”

Clearly, he’s the tip of the iceberg.

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