Beautifully Broken

He tries to say something again, but it comes out garbled, blood spilling over his lips.

All the rage I’ve felt for what was done to Cara goes into my last swing as I bury the scissors in his ear, and then I watch as the light dims in his eyes.

They say hell is where you relive your worst nightmare, over and over. I fucking hope it’s true for this bastard.

CARA

I stare at Uncle Tom’s body, a turbulent mess of sadness and relief swirling in my chest.

I watch as Damian uses Uncle Tom’s shirt to wipe the blood from the scissors before he tucks them into his back pocket.

My mind can’t get past what Uncle Tom said, that he would pay Damian to kill me.

I thought Uncle Tom hired Damian to help me?

Damian just said it was pure luck he stumbled upon me.

So… Uncle Tom never hired him?

Damian turns to me, and avoiding my eyes, he glances around the office. “Did you touch anything?”

“You weren’t hired by my uncle, were you?” I ask, still trying to make sense of the truth I just learned.

Damian doesn’t answer me but instead grabs hold of my hand and drags me out of the office. He closes the door behind us, and we walk down the dark hallway toward the back of the club. He shoves a heavy emergency door open, and we slip out into the night.

Damian keeps walking, just pulling me behind him. We head toward the nearest gas station, and when we reach it, I have to order an Uber to come pick us up.

When I’m done, I walk away from Damian, needing some space to think.

Damian wasn’t hired to rescue me.

“Cara,” he whispers harshly, quickly catching up to me.

When we’re out of the light and direct view of people putting in petrol, I turn back to him. “You were never hired to rescue me?”

“No, I wasn’t,” he finally admits.

“You didn’t know me. Why did you save me?”

“I told you I’m a cleaner, Cara. I was already watching the group when they brought you there.”

Oh my God.

“So the four days I was in that container, you knew about me?” The words taste vile on my tongue.

Damian takes a step closer, and lifting his hand, he wraps his fingers around the back of my neck, and only then does he explain, “We couldn’t just barge in, Cara. We had to gather enough intel and secure the safest possible exit for you.” He swallows hard. “If I had known…” He takes a second to breathe. “If I had known they’d rape you, I would’ve risked it all to get you out sooner.”

Damian came for me out of his own free will. I wasn’t just a paid job.

His admission and my realization make tears spiral down my cheeks, and I shake my head, wanting to tell him I don’t blame him for what happened, but I can’t find my voice.

Damian takes another step closer to me, and I quickly wipe the tears away.

“I lied to you about Tom hiring me so you would trust me. I just needed to buy myself some time until you were comfortable with me.”

Just then, a cab pulls into the gas station. I make sure my cheeks are dry as I gesture to it.

“Cara,” Damian murmurs, his voice tight with worry.

“Not now,” I manage to whisper past the lump in my throat. “We can talk about this when we’re home.”

I should feel something after seeing my uncle being murdered by the man I love… but instead, I feel nothing.

But when it comes to Damian, the new realization leaves me feeling… wanted.

Damian took me out of that hellhole and kept me because he wanted to.

Chapter 35

DAMIAN

It’s been three days, and the news shows the authorities have no suspects for the murder of businessman Tom Smith but that he was linked to a crime syndicate. His death has been attributed to a deal gone bad.

I ditched the scissors in a trashcan right at the airport. There should be no way for the police to trace the weapon to Tom’s death if they find it.

Everything should be fine, but it’s not. Things feel shaky between Cara and me. I want to hold her. I want to tell her everything will be fine now that the bastard is out of her life, but I know she needs time, and I’m giving her as much space as she wants until she’s ready to talk about it.

At least she doesn’t seem to be angry with me.

I’ve been keeping busy with odd jobs, but as day four rolls by and Cara remains quiet, I’m worried she’ll sink back into depression.

When Cara walks out onto the porch, my eyes snap to her. She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes before she heads toward the beach.

Seeing her out and about eases some of the worry. At least she’s not holing up in our bedroom.