My skin tingles in anticipation as his lips ran across my scar. But I do not want this. I mean, I do. More than anything, I do. But not like this. Not after what I have just shared. Not when my heart is so exposed, so vulnerable to the fall, ready to shatter as the figurines did downstairs. Landon is my hero. My safety. I love him. But I cannot do this with so much unknown between us. After all, he is a man, and just because he knows a little bit more about me does not mean he is doing this for the right reasons.

I sit up, pushing him away, while reaching for my shirt.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, studying me.

I give a forced smile. “Nothing. I’m just not in the mood. I’m kind of wiped after this morning.”

“Right, of course. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He stands up. “I’ll let you take a nap.”

And with that, he left the room.

CHAPTER 14

The Gym

Landon

Gym. 10min.—Landon

I will be there—Derik.

Same—Jared

I pound my gloved hand into the heavy bag swaying in front of me. The guys and I have been attending this little boxing gym since we first came to America as young adults. It is a dirt-cheap boxing gym that is always filthy. I am pretty sure this place is still in business solely because we’re loyal customers. The owner’s a drunk who does not know when it’s day or night.

Derick arrives and silently holds the bag still for me. I have had to come here a lot in the last year and a half of my marriage to release the anger I harbor for my wife and the contract and the whole situation I found myself in. If I am being honest, a lot of my visits here were to release some of my sexual frustration.

But today’s visit is none of those things. Well, maybe a little bit of sexual frustration. Today, I am angry at myself for the suffering that my wife had to endure—suffering I inflicted needlessly. Goodness, if only I took the time to look—like really and truly look—at my wife in the beginning, I would have noticed the signs. They were always there. Hell, even on our wedding day, she favored her right side. I wonder what he did to her the night before. Were her ribs bruised, broken? Did he kick her or shove her down the stairs?

Then a flash of our wedding night comes to my mind. Shit! I was drunk and not gentle enough. If I had removed her night gown, surely, I would have seen her pain. But I was so set on not giving her father the satisfaction. I slam my fist again.

I keep hearing the pain in her voice as she told me how she got that scar. Slam! How that worthless piece of shit held her down. Slam! Then I think about how small and helpless she is, especially in a room of men that are much bigger than her. Slam! If I ever get my hands on either of those bastards, I swear they will regret it. I let out a punch so hard it causes Derick to stumble back.