Page 41 of Shatterproof

Sounds of a vehicle entering the currently closed parking garage shift my attention away from the view of the hospital that’s close by and over to where a bright red Camaro is whipping around the corner at a needlessly fast speed.

The man gets points for driving a Chevy but loses twice as many for driving around like an idiot in a cop magnet.

Unlike my half-brother and our father, I never understood the appeal of a two-door.

Maybe it’s because I know I’m better prepared in something bigger.

Or maybe it’s because they choose to get laid in actual beds versus wherever is most convenient.

Not that that matters anymore.

Fucking anyone is the furthest thing from my mind right now.

Which is what always happens when I go from civilian mindset to mission mode.

And protecting Arleyisa mission.

It’sthemission.

It’sthesingle most fucking important mission I’ve ever had in my entire life.

More important than saving and stabilizing stranded soldiers from mountains.

More important than diving and swimming behind enemy lines to extract fallen pilots from hostile territory.

Fuck, it’s even more important than living through the beatings and burnings I endured while waiting to be rescued from my kidnappers as a child.

Making surenothingever happens to Angel Cake again is my sole focus.

My sole purpose.

My only reason for getting out of bed every morning going forward.

That attack should’ve never happened and had I been more concerned about caring forherthan caring for my cock potentially getting touched it wouldn’t have.

She wouldn’t have strangle marks on her neck.

She wouldn’t have needed to go to the ER.

And she wouldn’t have been forced to have a CT scan that triggered traumatic memories from a time when the whole world was convinced, she wasbrokenrather than simply built different.

Watching tears run down her cheeks as they slid her shaking figure into the machine had me hating myself and wanting to take my own life for causing the woman I love, so much fucking grief. Adding in the fact she refused to talk tome– and only me – afterward simply pushed me past pure contemplation to the beginning of devising an actual plan to make it possible.

A plan I would’ve probably put into action if it didn’t completely contradict my primary mission of doing whatever it takes to ensure her safety.

Like I said before,thattakes precedent over everything.

Including whether or not she actually likes me.

I loathe the idea that she doesn’t, but I’ll fucking deal as long as she’s properly taken care of, which is what the stupid test was doing. We needed to make sure she didn’t suffer anything internally and head trauma is always a better to be safe than sorry situation. I’ve seen what happens firsthand when people make the mistake of assuming rather than assuring.

It isn’t pretty.

And it damn sure isn’t the type of shit I want for Arley.

The driver of the red vehicle positions it at an obnoxious angle – occupying multiple spaces – and quickly kills the engine. As soon as he emerges from his car, he flashes me a grin that matches his parking.

Crooked and annoying.

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