But the guy wasn’t done. “Bitch was asking for it. She wanted it. Anybody could see that.”

And then the idiot made the mistake of grabbing Coop’s arm. Coop spun and, with no more warning than that, drew back his fist and punched the guy, sending him bouncing into the crowd.

Crap. Piper shot forward. The guy hit the floor and rolled to his knees, cradling his jaw. She knelt next to him and gazed up at her ex-lover. “Real smooth, Coop.”

Coop glared down and threw her words right back at her. “He irritated me.”

Despite his ferocious expression, she nearly hugged him. This is for all the women who told the truth but nobody believed them.

***

Three o’clock finally came. She slipped off her heels and dragged herself upstairs to spend her last night in the apartment. Tomorrow, she’d be sleeping in Amber’s double bed underneath an Aida poster.

She got undressed and pulled a plain brown T-shirt over her underpants. She gazed down at the alley from her back window. Coop had left, the spot where he parked his car was empty. As empty as she felt inside.

She crawled into her too-big bed and stared up at the ceiling. She’d done the right thing. She might not believe she could hurt any more than she did now, but staying with him longer—hiding how much she cared—would only make their inevitable breakup more agonizing.

She finally fell into a restless sleep only to be plagued by nightmare figures with clown faces, jackboots, and selfie sticks. They chased her into a crimson jungle where dead women hung head down from telephone poles. She had to scream. But she couldn’t find the air. She had to find air. She struggled to find a scream somewhere. Anywhere.

She jolted awake. It was still dark. Her T-shirt stuck to her skin, and she’d drooled on the pillow. Her heart was racing. Only a dream... Only a dream...

Somebody stood in the doorway. A dark, silent silhouette. Her voice came out in a grateful croak. “Coop?”

He rushed toward the bed.

It happened so fast. One moment she was trapped in a nightmare, and the next moment, a man was grabbing her. A man who was not Coop.

She screamed.

“Shut up!” He had her by the arm. Shook her. She tried to fight, but the sheet trapped her. His hard shake wrenched her neck. She freed an arm and clawed at his face. He slapped her. Her ears rang. The struggle was frantic, the only sounds her gasps. And then even those stopped as his fingers closed around her neck and his thumbs pressed her windpipe.

The overhead light blazed on.