A few minutes later, an unfamiliar Jeep Cherokee turned into the neighborhood street and approached too slowly. Josiah readied for possible battle until the SUV turned into the driveway for the rental and light from a nearby streetlamp fell on the driver.

It was Molly.

He didn’t remember leaving his car. The next thing he knew, he had muscled into the open space left by her open car door and was staring down at her.

He’d seen dead bodies and victims of violence before, both in crime photos and in real life. He was no stranger to the pallid complexions, the bruising and contusions, the lurid appearance of blood. He’d witnessed dismemberments and the gruesome results of what happened when coyotes and other wildlife feasted on a body.

But there was always an extra punch when violence hit someone he knew. His gut tightened as he looked at what Sullivan had done to his beautiful wife.

She looked dead pale, with dark hollows like bruises ringing her eyes. Blood had dripped from a scalp wound into one eye, and the opposite cheekbone was swollen and discolored. She held herself like every movement, every breath, was an agony. He’d had broken ribs before and knew just how bad she felt. God only knew what other damage she had sustained.

But he was jolted to see that somehow none of the visible wounds detracted from her beauty. She held herself with such fierce stoicism that, if anything, she looked even more beautiful than ever.

She looked like a warrior. Like a survivor.

Something powerful and unrecognized welled up. He didn’t understand it, and when his eyes dampened, that shocked him more than anything.

It was a relief when she passed out. His brain rebooted, and he could think again. Scooping her up, he carried her to his car and buckled her into the front passenger seat. Then he grabbed her purse, phone, and car keys and raced back to his Audi, climbed in, and drove to the safe house.

This time he followed more safety precautions than usual and drove a circuitous route. That meant the journey took twice as long, and all the while he whispered deflection spells until they were as safe as he knew how to make them. Only then did he pull behind the country house. Easing Molly’s lax form back into his arms, he tucked her possessions on her abdomen and carried her down to the basement.

Once he’d laid her on the bed, he cast a spell of divination. The areas of damage lit in his mind like flares. She had a concussion, two broken ribs, and some hellish contusions. Her left shoulder was strained badly, but there was no real damage to the joint.

She also had some internal bleeding, but it wasn’t life threatening and had almost stopped. And she should probably get stitches for her head wound.