Page 47 of No Mercy In Red

“Max,” she gasped, her voice breaking into another sob. “I—I—”

“What happened?” I whispered, fear constricting my throat as I quickly dropped beside her, placing my hand gently on her arm. “Lara, talk to me.”

She stared at me, eyes wide and filled with unspeakable anguish. I searched her eyes, the vacancy behind them sending my heart racing all over again. A silent tear slid down her cheek, and at that moment, both of us said nothing. We just sat there, the silence filled with the aches of our pain, our trauma.

Eventually, Lara took a shaking breath, eyes lowered in shame. “The guy from the club. He...he raped me, Max. He hurt me, over and over, and he wouldn’t stop. I said no, I fucking begged him, but —” her voice cracked as sobs wracked through her body. “He wouldn’t listen.”

A black haze settled over my vision, rage roaring through me with deadly intensity. My fists clenched, fingernails cutting into my palms. My own trauma from the evening instantly pushed aside as anger overtook me entirely. I was fucking angry at so many things. At the monster who had assaulted her, at myself for leaving, for not being able to protect her. She was my best friend, my sister in every way but blood, and I couldn’t save her. I was going to fucking kill him.

“We need to call the police, Lar. You need to report it.”

“No!” Lara shouted suddenly, her voice desperate. “I can’t, Max, please. You know what’ll happen—they’ll question me, and nothing will come of it. It’s my word against his. I can’t go through that humiliation. Please, don’t make me do that.”

Her begging tore through me, shredding my insides. She was right, I knew first hand how cases like hers ended. Forgotten. Overlooked. Ignored. And then, just as swiftly as my anger had ignited, it transformed into determination. Lara wouldn’t have to relive her trauma; I’d handle this for her, get her the justice she deserved without dragging her through a broken system that never favoured the victim.

“Okay,” I whispered gently, my tone shifting to comfort, pulling her up onto her feet and into my arms. “You don’t have to tell them. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. But promise me you’ll at least talk to someone. A therapist, or a counsellor. Just someone, Lara. Promise me.’

She sniffled, nodding weakly against my shoulder. “I promise.”

I unlocked my door, ushering her inside before locking it again behind us. She looked me up and down, her gaze flickering over my battered, bloodied appearance, as if just noticing for the first time that I was a mess. I dreaded to think how I actually looked

“Max, what the fuck happened to you tonight? You’re covered in blood, you’re limping?!” The panic turned her voice high pitched.

“I can’t,” I said quietly, guilt clawing at my insides, tears filling my eyes again. “I can’t tell you. Not yet, Lara. I will, I swear it but not right now. Besides, none of that matters right now. You are what’s important right now, not me, not anything else. Just you.”

She nodded slowly, trusting me, but I saw the suspicion, the fear behind her eyes. I was hiding things from her, things that would change her view of me forever. Things I wasn’t ready to share yet. I gently eased her onto the couch, draping a soft blanket over her shivering shoulders. Her sobs were softer now, quiet hiccups of pain. I fetched her some water, then slipped away briefly, pulling out my phone to text Connor, fingers trembling slightly as I typed:

‘Something awful happened to Lara last night. I know who did it, and I’m going to fix this. Please trust me.’

His reply was immediate, sending a wave of comfort through my exhausted heart.

‘Whatever it is, I’m here. Whatever you need, I’ll help. She’s my family now, too.’

I glanced back at Lara, the crushing weight of guilt suffocating me. If only I’d stayed last night, none of this would’ve happened. I’d failed her completely, and now I had to fix it. Because abusers deserved nothing more than a slow, painful death. And nobody, especially my best fucking friend, deserved to feel this way. She sat there wrapped in the blanket, eyes staring blankly ahead. I limped over, crouching in front of her, gently holding her hand. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She gave me a shaky nod, allowing me to guide her into the bathroom. I helped her into the shower, gently rinsing the dirt and tears away. Her sobs resumed softly, the water cascading over her as she released all the pent-up trauma. I sent her into the bedroom to get dried and dressed, telling her she could have any of the t-shirts and underwear except the Slipknot tee on my bed, that one was mine. She gave me a knowing look, telling me she knew exactly who that T-shirt belonged to. I hopped into the shower after her, hissing through the pain as the water hit all the cuts that now covered my body. I watched the blood turn from dark brown to light pink as it mixed with he water before flowing down the drain, my tears falling down my face as I took a shaky breath. How did this happen, how had so much gone wrong in such little time.

After I showered myself, we sat in my bed, Lara curled up against my chest as I brushed her hair back, softly whispering that everything would be okay—even though I wasn’t sure myself. Her breathing evened out slowly, tears finally drying as sleep claimed her. I laid there, my mind racing, replaying everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. The attack, Joe, Connors confessions, Lara. I would kill that man. For Lara. For myself. And this time, I didnt care about being the careful, calculated vigilante. I’d make him suffer, painfully and slowly, for what he’d done. He would pay dearly for touching her.

As the morning grey turned into an afternoon haze breaking through the curtains, I glanced at my phone. A new message flashed on the screen. Connor:

‘I hope Lara is ok. Whatever you need, I’m here. We’ll fix this together if you want me to be there.’

For the first time, I believed it. Maybe, I wasn’t alone in that side of my world anymore. Maybe Connor and I, despite our fucked-up beginnings, really could make it through together.

But first, I had a monster to kill.

Chapter 35

Max

The days that followed passed in a blur of rage, grief, and meticulous plotting.

Lara had insisted on retreating to her parents’ lake cabin to process everything, adamant that she needed the space and peace. I offered to go with her, repeatedly, but she refused gently, saying that being alone would help her heal. I made her promise to update me at least once a day that she was okay, that she was safe, and that if she needed me, all she had to do was text me and I’d drive straight over. So instead of being with Lara, I called in sick to work, saying I was ill and needed the week to recover, and instantly threw myself into finding a way of bringing that bastard to justice. I could feel my control slipping through my fingers, I was no longer careful, calculated Max. No. I was becoming reckless, volatile and dangerous. Because this one was different, this one was personal. And the line between justice and revenge had blurred so completely, I no longer knew where one ended and the other began. The lack of control was an entirely new feeling, one I wasn’t sure I enjoyed outside of the bedroom, but one that I knew I had to endure anyway.

Connor was by my side every single step of the way, refusing to leave me alone even for a second. The night after it all happened and Lara had left, he sat across from me at the table, his darkened eyes locking onto mine as he cautiously told me about meeting Tony in the basement the night Joe had kidnapped me.

“He showed up not long after you left,” Connor explained, his hand wrapped around mine as his thumb traced soft, comforting circles across my knuckles. “Apparently he’d dropped you off at the apartment after everything and knew something wasn’t right.”

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