I try to peel my face up off the leather when I hear a grunt, followed by a commotion, but I’m too weak. I try to call out for him, needing confirmation it’s going to be okay now, but my lips are too parched, and I have no voice left from screaming.

A muttered curse from his lips is the proof I need, and then all at once my body gives out. Like a thousand-pound weight has been lifted off my shoulders, I have to believe it will be okay. It will be okay because he’s here. That thought fades into oblivion as the adrenaline crashes, my head swims, and I succumb to the blackness.

Something tickles the edges of my consciousness, warmth blooming beneath my skin. I feel hot. Feverish. Like I’m burning alive. Pain skitters across my flesh, dragging me back to the reality I’d hoped to forget. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a nightmare. I was there, and now, it’s too quiet. I’m scared to open my eyes. Scared to move. My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest, and I’m struggling to draw in a breath when a palm comes to rest on my cheek.

“Mercedes.”

I jolt away from the touch, flopping onto my back, only to let out an agonized cry when I do. The pain. Oh, God, the pain.

My chest caves in, and before I can understand what’s happening, I’m wracked with sobs. Deep, ugly, horrifying sobs.

“Please,” the choked voice beside me whispers. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

That voice… the sound of my tormentor and my savior has the strangest effect. It wounds me, yet it brings me a small sort of comfort. Because I know for certain, he has reclaimed me. I have traded one monster for another, and I have to believe this is the lesser evil.

“Please,” Judge begs. “Look at me.”

In the span of a few shuddering heartbeats, I manage to open my eyes. Not for him. Never again for him. But when I meet his gaze, the anguish on his face steals my breath away.

“Let me help you,” he says softly. Softer than I’ve ever heard him speak. “I need to roll you back onto your side, so it doesn’t hurt. But that means I need to touch you. Will you let me?”

Another wave of sobbing commences, and it can’t be helped. I don’t have control of my emotions right now. I don’t have control of my own mind.

“Fucking Christ.” Judge reaches out to touch me again, and again, I flinch away, cutting him deep. I can see it in his eyes. He looks so helpless, and he has never been a helpless man.