Page 70 of Power Term

“Of what I have waiting for me on the other side of all this. Of the normalcy. That you still want this broken person they turned me into.” A single tear drips, slipping along her temple before disappearing into her hairline. “Remind me I’m still me. Remind me of who I am, Trouble. Remind me of what it feels like to feel good.”

Even though her words fracture my heart into a thousand pieces, I smile.

I smile for her.

I smile for me.

I smile for us.

And I give her exactly what she needs in this moment.

Me.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Randi

I’m broken. Not just parts of my body but my entire being. The fear Shawn beat into me during those hours in the warehouse seeped into my muscles with each hit, every taunt. My bones ache, but that’s nothing compared to the soul-rattling despair and terror that’s now dug it’s claws into me.

I’ve never been scared. Always dove into an issue head on, not worrying about the consequences.

But now? Now I know what can happen and how much it will hurt. I know the fear of death staring you in the face and accepting you won’t live to see another day. That did something to me. Between the beatings, talk of rape, and knowing I would die, a part of me is frozen in fear.

I’m scared. Terrified that one day Shawn or the other man will come back and make good on their promises of me dying a slow death. At least that’s how it plays out in the recurring nightmare that seems to be imprinted in my brain, ready to replay anytime I dare to sleep.

The doctors thought I didn’t want to rest because I had work to do, which is what I told them, but that was a front of truth-laced lies. I just didn’t want to close my eyes without the sedation. With the sedation, everything was black, nothing. But when I sleep on my own, I’m back in that warehouse and Trey is gone.

I need him close by. Need his warmth, protection, and understanding.

He’s my salvation.

My savior.

My everything.

Staring into those honey brown eyes hovering just inches above me, I move a lock of dark hair from in front of them. He might think I’m crazy for asking for this, asking for him, but I need us. Need that connection. Like I told him, I need the reminder that we’re good. That something in my life is still stable.

My heart is cracked wide open, 100 percent vulnerable with the request, offering him a side of me I never allow myself to show. I don’t need anyone, never have. I’ve done everything to this point on my own. Undergrad. Law school. Campaign. Politics. But this I can’t get through alone. And maybe I don’t want to.

It’s more terrifying than anything Shawn said, opening myself up to Trey like this. Letting him see just how much I need him. All it would take is one word, a hesitation even, or a flat-out refusal. I wouldn’t recover from his rejection, even if it did come from a loving place of not wanting to hurt me while my body is still healing. Recover from the abduction and torture? Sure. With enough therapy, I’ll be okay. But being turned away when I’m desperate for help, begging for someone to ground me and them refusing—there aren’t enough prescription drugs in the world to make that kind of rejection go away.

I hold my breath, waiting for his response. My heart races, fingers trembling as I run them through his clean hair.

A smirk. That playful smirk tugs at his lips, and I know I have my answer.

Trey Benson, my soul mate, won’t back away when I need him most. No, he leans in, knowing exactly what I need.

I don’t need to be perfect for Trey.

I never have been. And that’s why he loves me.

“What hurts, Mess?” he asks, that all-seeing gaze raking over my face and lower, hunger growing with each inch he covers.

I take a quick stock of my injuries. “My ribs when I take a deep breath. That’s it. Trey—” I start, ready to beg again, when he seals those soft lips against my own.

“One second,” he whispers against my mouth.

With a grunt, he pulls away. Using the bedside rail as leverage, he stands, adjusting the sizable bulge in his jeans before awkwardly walking to the door and pulling it open. With most of his body remaining inside the room, he talks in a low tone to someone outside the door before closing it once again and flipping the lock. “There. Now we won’t be disturbed.”

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