She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time, mesmerized by the sight of her patchwork body. The shine of tears in her eyes. The absolute hopelessness in her mind. She thought she was lost before, but now, she didn’t even know who she was.

If she could shift there might be a chance she could escape—and she had to. She couldn’t stay here, not with Elijah. That was the worst thing she could possibly think of. Elijah had seen this. He had been there, when pain engulfed her completely, when every breath she took was so difficult she tried desperately not to breathe. He was there.

He’d been so gentle, his voice soothing her, his arms trying not to hurt her more, to jar her pain-wracked body. She remembered that. She remembered the blood everywhere—her blood. Elijah had been covered in it. His face had been grim, set in stone, the lines carved deep and his eyes alive with ice-cold fury. She hadn’t moved or spoken, afraid if she did she would shatter. Still, he had come to save her. Paolo had run, and she was left . . . broken. Torn apart. Ripped to pieces. Elijah had seen her like that. He’d seen—this.

She felt her cat rise, push close to the surface in an attempt to comfort her. She stroked a hand over her tummy. The doctor had come in to talk to her before she left, giving her a pep talk on how she was so lucky to be alive. But no one had mentioned a baby again. A part of her shied away from the thought. Thinking it might make it real, but on the other hand, if she had a baby and she could get away from everyone, she could take it far away from this mess. She wouldn’t be alone.

She’d have a part of Elijah. The dream part. The man she had believed he was. The one who had fallen in love with her and wanted to be with her forever. Not this one. Not the mean, jerky, arrogant, cruel man who said those terrible things to her. Things that woke her in the middle of the night. She would have thought her nightmares would mostly be of Paolo attacking her, or the more familiar ones of her kidnapping, but no, they were of Elijah, throwing her naked out of his house, slamming and locking his door, leaving her alone and vulnerable with the terrible things he’d said forever branded into her mind.

Elijah’s words in her brain. Paolo’s marks on her body. That was who she was now. Except . . . She pressed her hand tighter over her stomach. Maybe she was more. Maybe there was something inside her left to protect. Something worthwhile. Her eyes burned as she stared at her image in the mirror.