I crept toward the kitchen with soundless steps, navigating through the shadows of night, and prayed Jax wouldn’t find me wandering the house naked. My blood begged to be spilled, cried from within my veins, an accomplice of the ever-thirsty beast that possessed me. I pulled a drawer open and grabbed the biggest butcher knife I could find, then I tiptoed back to the bathroom, praying I wouldn’t wake Rafe.

I had to do this, needed it with a driving force I barely grasped, so how could I expect him to understand it? No doubt, he’d be furious, and this would probably hurt him as much as me, if not more, but that didn’t stop me from shutting myself in the bathroom and slicing down my stomach, right through the A in Zach’s name. I closed my eyes and sighed as the sting radiated from that spot, breathed easy for a few glorious moments when reality narrowed to the pain and overshadowed the hollow ache in my chest.

Yet the tears still wouldn’t come. I needed more. More, more, more.

Teeth grinding, I slashed again, this time horizontally through every single letter. My fingers shook around the handle, knuckles whitening from holding it so tightly, and I used my free hand to smear the blood. Finally, hot and bitter drops fell from my eyes, one after the other in an endless stream that fed the beast.

Like a finger painting, the red obscured Zach’s name, though it still weighed heavily on my skin, a constant reminder that he’d always be with me no matter how far I ran from his memory. No matter how much time passed and the rest of me healed.

Letting out a sob, I sliced again…again and again and again. God, it wasn’t enough. I might be erasing Zach, but what about everything else? The days spent in the dark with Rafe, certain we were going to die? I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t want to halt the ambush of sorrow flowing down my face in rivulets of shame either. My lids shuttered, and I embraced the release, cherished the thrill of power I got from that blade.

A fist clamped around my wrist, and my eyes flew open. Rafe squeezed hard until I involuntarily dropped the knife. Through the chaos barreling through my being, I had trouble registering his presence, or what the tick in his jaw meant.

His hooded gaze pinned mine by way of our reflections in the mirror until he spun me around to face him. He wrenched my arms behind me and held my wrists together. Something sparked alive in my veins, trilled deliciously in my ears.

“Don’t move an inch.”

With a quick nod, I swallowed hard. He slowly let go of my hands, framed my cheeks with warm palms, and kissed the tears from my face.