Page 36 of Twisted Redemption

I nod, staring into his eyes. They’re ocean blue, just like all of the Graysons. But Blaze’s have always been my favorite—they’re brighter, and they’ve always held a special kindness for me. “Blaze,” I whisper.

“That’s right. And where are you?”

I stare at him for a moment longer before looking around. “Home. I’m home.”

“Good. That’s good.” He absentmindedly runs his fingers through my hair, and when he pulls them away, they’re covered in blood. “Fuck, Daisy. We need to stop this bleeding. Stay here.”

He disappears from my sight, and panic rushes in. What if David comes back?

I hear a voice from somewhere in the house. Oh god. What if David wasn’t alone, and there’s still someone else here?

“Blaze,” I say weakly, grabbing onto the side of the couch and standing. Angel hops off my lap as my fingers sink into the cushion. I turn, trying to find him.

“What are you doing?” He’s rushing toward me, a roll of paper towels in one hand, his phone pressed to his ear with the other.

I step toward him, but my legs are unsteady. Just as I focus on his face and the desperate concern in his bright blue eyes, my knees give out. Everything tilts.

Dropping the towels, Blaze rushes forward and grabs me. His arms steady me, pulling me into him as he murmurs, “You just can’t listen, can you?”

“Don’t leave me,” I say into his shirt. A small part of my brain nags at me, telling me I shouldn’t say things like that, but I can’t remember why.

He presses his lips to my forehead, muttering something that sounds like, I never will, before lowering me back onto the couch.

Before I can stop myself, I reach for him. My fingers curl around the soft fabric of his T-shirt. “What if he comes back?” I whisper.

“Let’s worry about you first.” He grabs the paper towels from the floor, unrolling them and tossing the first layer to the ground. Then he rips a few more off the roll and wads them up. “This might hurt, Daisy.”

Closing my eyes, I brace myself as he presses them to the back of my head. My hand finds his leg, my fingernails digging into the denim of his pants.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says with a slight hitch to his voice. “Head wounds just bleed a lot.”

I groan, unsure if he’s talking to me or himself. Then I remember.

He’s probably mad at me.

“It was on,” I mumble. “I promise I turned it on.”

“What?”

“He guessed the code. Please... believe me.”

“Hey. Hey, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out later, okay? You’re safe. That’s what matters right now.”

“Blaze—”

“Shh.”

We stay like this for what feels like forever, with one of his hands supporting my head and the other pressing the paper towels to the cut. When the familiar squeak of the mudroom door sounds, Blaze tenses.

“Dom?” he calls out, and I wince. “Sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s just me. I already cleared the yard. You two stay put, and I’ll secure the house.” Dominic comes into view, his gaze landing on me. “You hanging in there, Brooke?”

I give him a shaky thumbs up.

“Doc coming soon?”

“Any minute,” Blaze says without taking his gaze off of me. “Can you grab her a blanket? I don’t want to take pressure off—”

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