Page 88 of Shattered

“I meant it, Macy. I’m not going anywhere.”

That seems to soften her a little around the edges. The hackles come down, and she relaxes into the chair.

“What happened to you? Tell me everything.”

Angry again. “I’m not telling you everything. My stepbrother Colin took me hostage.”

“Alright, go on; what did he do to you?” I ask a little gruffly. I really need to work on my empathy if I’m going to help Lila.

She lets out a deep breath before speaking. “Everything he could. He tortured me. Beat me, broke my bones, and after four days of that, he shot me and left me to die.”

She doesn’t look like she’s finished speaking. She needs a nudge, but there’s no gentle way to ask. “Did he rape you?”

After a nervous pause, she nods. “So please, tell me… Is what happened to her anything like what happened to me?”

I’m not telling her shit, but I’ll admit that much. “Similar.”

She has to take a moment to steady herself.

“How do I get her through this? I don’t have a fucking clue what to do or say.”

“Nothing you can say or do will take it away. Just be there for her. My husband, Gareth, didn’t always know what to say, but he was always there for me. And that went both ways. I helped him lay some pretty heavy burdens to rest. That’s how our trust became so strong.”

I nod. “It’s so hard to talk. And when it’s quiet, all I can hear is her screams…”

Macy’s brows lift. “Did you see it?”

I find myself clenching my lips together to try to hold my shit together. Then I’m wiping the tears as they come. “It was livestreamed on the dark web.”

Macy breaks, hiding her face in her hands as she sobs, and once I hear her, I start. The amount of fucking crying…

When Macy finally comes up for air, her face is red, and her eyes are bloodshot. “What kind of fucking monsters could do this to her?”

“Dead ones. They’re gone. Never coming back.”

She sniffles. “You’re sure they’re dead?”

“Oh yeah, deader than dead. Ask Lila how she killed Rooney; it’s pretty impressive.”

Her eyes widen. “She killed one?”

“Brutalized. It still doesn’t come close to what they did to her, but still.”

Macy nods, understanding. She stifles her sniffles and wipes her tears away, changing the subject. “Is your leg gonna be okay?”

I shrug. “Okay as it’s going to get. I’ll be in a wheelchair until it’s healed; then, I’ll need something to help me walk.”

She frowns. “That’s got to make you pretty angry.”

“All that anger got me into this mess in the first place. I’m handling it.”

Before she can respond, a pained voice calls out from the den. “Asher?”

“I’m here, Sunshine,” I call.

“Do you think you could bring my pain medication?” she asks.

“On it.”

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