Page 29 of Hold Me Before You Go

Amara Harrison made sure I knew how to get out of binds. Plus, I could tell the drugs had worn off slightly. I wasn’t dizzy, my vision clear.

Thank God.

If I could just—

The hotel room door opened, and I froze as Monica walked in, her eyes on the phone in her hand, an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise, the pinks and oranges in the sky reminding me of the painting hanging in my home.

I had to get out of here.

Monica hadn’t noticed me yet, and I stared at her, holding my breath, taking a good look at the woman who hated me so much. Her hair was thin and brittle, piled into a small bun at the top of her head, making her square-shaped face stand out even more. Her eyes were sunken in, her cheekbones prominent, making her look sickly. She wasn’t healthy, and it reminded me so much of how, once, in a different life, I was just like her.Unhealthy.

My eyes dropped from her face and—

She was dressed in baggy jeans and my fucking yellow puffer jacket. My eyes fell further down, to her shoes, and my lips parted.She was wearing my fucking shoes.

Why was she wearing my clothes?

She looked up from her phone, scoffing at something before she froze, her eyes widening as they collided with mine. I stared at her, watching in real-time as the shock in her eyes faded, replaced by the same hatred I witnessed the first time I saw her in Rossy’s books last year.

Why did she hate me?

Who was this woman to Brandon?

Her upper lip curled in disgust as her eyes dropped from my face, taking in my appearance. The judgment in her eyes was getting old, and I desperately wanted to ask what the hell her problem was, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t in the position to be asking questions, and if I wasn’t smart, I would end up dead, my body thrown in a ditch somewhere.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I had to fight. For me. For Grayson. For my friends back in Astoria.

Monica’s dark eyes snapped back up to my face, her pupils pinpoints, and I could see the pain lingering in her soul behind her dead eyes.

Was that why she hated me?

Had I caused her pain in some way?

Had my father?

We stared at each other for a while, and I didn’t even notice the shower turn off. Our gazes broke when the bathroom door opened, steam oozing into the room as the door banged into the wall. Slowly, I turned my head to face Brandon, and I kept my chin high, not showing any fear.

Like hell I would cower in front of him. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, biting down on my jaw as I studied him.

A towel was covering the lower half of his body, his gut hanging over, water droplets dotting his skin. His pale skin was covered in stretch marks and scars. There was also a huge scar on the side of his ribcage, the skin there lumpy and misshapen—like aburn.

A pleasant sound came from him then, and I was done looking at his body.

Those eyes found mine, and all I saw was my dead, abusive husband.

When Brandon smiled, the urge to vomit manifested for the hundredth time, but there was nothing left in my stomach to give. “Good morning, princess. Did you have a nice nap?” he asked, his voice dripping with sick confidence. In his mind, he probably believed he was getting away with this.

But I knew the truth.

Whether I lived or died at the hands of this sick couple, Grayson would have his revenge.

Because of that fact alone, I remained calm, knowing both these assholes would get what was coming to them. Karma would come in the form of a tall, snake-tattooed man whose heart belonged to me.

“Got nothing to say to your brother-in-law?” Brandon taunted, ticking his head to the side.

I gave him nothing, only blinking once.

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