Page 409 of Rage

So, now we’re on our first official date. Besides doctor appointments and grocery runs, I hadn’t been out anywhere besides the club and the support group meetings in years. I hoped my attire was sufficient for where he was taking me, choosing a velvet long-sleeved dark green dress that flared out at the knees and black pumps. Beckett was dressed in black button-downs and black slacks, looking sleek and elegant like a man of his stature.

We looked like we were ready for a nice night out at a restaurant or cabaret. Imagine my surprise when we went to the last place I suspected.

Beckett pulled into the familiar parking lot of the club and proceeded to tell me there was a very good reason. My heart was pounding as we walked inside, knowing that it would be different this time.

After we checked in with security, he took my hand and led me not to the anonymous room but to one lit by soft, warm lights. It was time to face each other, to bring our encounters into the light. This was a stark contrast to the dark anonymity I was used to. I hesitated, my eyes adjusting to the glow, taking in the familiar surroundings of the club but from an entirely new perspective.

Beckett sensed my nervousness and squeezed my hand gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m not rushing you, Mila. I just thought that this was the appropriate next step for us. But it’s up to you. Take your time.”

His words were like a salve to my wracked nerves. I took a shaky breath, still processing how much he knew about my private life. But instead of feeling exposed, I felt...understood.

I moved towards the center of the room, shedding my dress and undergarments as I went. With each item that fell to the floor, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders like I was shedding those terrible memories. Baring myself to Beckett in the softlight was liberating, with no shadows to hide in. It was time he saw the scars that marred my skin on the outside since he resonated with the ones within me so well.

When I was completely naked, I turned to face him, my heart in my throat. “Those photos... they were from you, weren’t they?” I asked, finally confronting him about the Polaroids of the men I had received. “You sent them, didn’t you, Beck? You made good on your word.”

Beckett’s eyes flicked to mine, then away, a muscle in his jaw working as he chose his words carefully. “Yes. I wanted to show you that I would protect you, Mila. That I could give you the closure you needed.”

“But how were you able to find them? How did you know who they were?”

“Well, we can’t all be hackers,” he grinned and my eyes widened. “I was just determined.”

I felt a rush of conflicting emotions—gratitude, surprise, and something warmer, more profound, that scared me. I took a breath to steady myself, my gaze holding his. “Why?”

His eyes met mine again, and he stepped closer. “Because you’re worth it, Mila. You should have justice and peace. And if killing those bastards is what it took to ease your pain, then well...I was happy to do it.” Beckett touched my cheek before adding, “Also, I met Evie.”

I could feel the color drain from my face in an instant. “Evie?”

“Yes. Briefly. First, she’s alright and will be fine moving forward with her life. Second, she was the one who got the center shut down after you left.”

“She did?”

“Yes,” Beckett says quietly. “And she wanted you to know she appreciated what you did for her and the others.”

There’s no reason to talk about what I did for them. What I haddone to mefor them. I’m just glad the center that housed somuch abuse had disbanded. If it still stood today, I would go over with a gasoline can and light a match.

My voice was hoarse when I finally spoke. “Thank you.”

His arms encircled me, and I breathed him in. I felt safe here, in this moment, with Beckett. His lips found mine. It was a kiss that spoke of new beginnings, healing, and a future I hadn’t dared hope for until...now.

I poured all my longing and dreams of a family into that kiss, my hands tangling in his hair as I pulled him closer. He responded with equal passion, his hands roaming my body with a mixture of reverence and need.

He traced the scars on my body that I’d received in anger–both from others and from my own hands–with his fingertips and mouth. And when he undressed and I saw the lashings across his back, I did the same to him.

That night, in the soft glow of the room, we didn’t just make love—we healed each other. It was a joining of two wounded souls, a union forged in the depths of our shared trauma.

When we finally parted, breathless and sated, I knew something had changed within me. Something that was needed for so long.

And I knew it was because of Beckett.

He held my hand across from a quaint table in a fancy restaurant later that same night, keeping me grounded in the sea of strangers around us.

“We’ll take it slow, Mila. But you deserve to experience the good things in life, not just the bad. I am going to spoil the shit out of you until it becomes second nature.”

I couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of his promise, but he just squeezed my hand tighter.

“I’m here for you now and I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Eight

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