Blood on her face. Blood on her hand.
Her wrist is swollen, and there’s a bruise already forming on the side of her hip where her shirt has ridden up.
“Lola.” I keep my voice steady. I owe her that. “I just need to know one thing. Who fucking did this to you, baby? Who hurt you?”
She stares into my eyes. Past them. Into something deeper than I knew was there.
And she says one word.
“Reese.”
My heart damn near stops.
I grit my teeth so hard I feel the pressure in my skull. The furious part of me is screaming at me to get in my truck, drive to his apartment, and put a twelve-gauge slug through the door before he can open it.
But I don’t.
Because she’s standing in front of me barefoot and bleeding, and she came here.She didn’t call the cops. She didn’t run to a stranger. She got in her car, and she drove to me. Because I can keep her safe.
So I nod. “Let’s get you inside, baby.”
I lift her into my arms. She doesn’t fight me. Doesn’t argue. Doesn’t tell me she can walk. She just lets her head fall against my shoulder and lets me carry her through the front door and into the warmth of my home.
I lay her down on the couch. Grab the first aid kit from under the kitchen sink and kneel beside her. “Tell me where it hurts, Lola.”
She takes a shaky breath. Her body is still trembling; little aftershocks are probably running through her. “I—I think most of it will just be bruises. But there might be some glass in my hand.”
I hiss out a breath as I carefully turn her palm over in mine. There are small shards embedded along the edge of her palm. It shouldn’t need stitches, but it needs cleaning.
“I’ll get this cleaned up, okay? It might sting a little bit. Then it’ll be fine.”
She nods and bites her lip. And I can see her holding something back, the words building behind her teeth that she’s scared to let out.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I know this is awkward for you. He’s your friend. I promise I’m not lying. If I had somewhere else to go, I would have. I know you didn’t want to be involved with me anymore.”
Jesus fuck. Lola.
I shake my head. Set down the tweezers. Look her dead in the eye.
“You came to the right place. I promise you, firefly, you belong here. With me.” I let that sink in before I say the rest. “And as for him… he ain’t no friend of mine now.”
She swallows hard. I cup her cheek and wipe the tears away with my thumb. “He’s going to regret ever laying a hand on you, baby. I’m going to make sure that asshole can only eat his momma’s dinners with a straw. He’s going to pay for this.”
Her eyes go wide. Full of fear. But underneath it, buried deep, I see it.
Darkness.
That part of her that wants me to make Reese suffer for what he’s done.
Good. That is exactly how the world should work. Men who lay hands on women should feel the pain tenfold. Or fucking die for it.
Because weak men like that, the ones who pick on women because they’re not man enough to face their own hard truths. They’re fuckin’ cowards. Disgusting pieces of shit who don’t deserve to breathe.
“Thank you, cowboy,” she breathes.
“Don’t thank me, pretty girl. I’m doing what any real man should.”
She sucks in a breath and glances away, like she can’t take the weight of what I’m giving her. So I press my finger gently under her chin and turn her back to me.