With Ties That Bind (The Broken Bonds 4)

For her sake, that would be for the best.

But for my sake? I’m pretty damn agitated about the condition she’s left me in.

Far worse off than before she put that imagery in my already fucked-up head.

3

Insides

Avery

Marcy Beloff, victim number one, lies lifeless and cold on the slab.

I never used to number the vics. I was more personable than that. At least, I thought I was. A sensitive medical examiner who cared. Who wanted to make a difference. Who wanted to discover cutting-edge ways to solve crimes and give victims the final say.

But that was before I became a victim myself.

Now, each and every victim that is wheeled into my lab gets identified with a number. The count began after I was abducted and rescued. As if I was starting over. My career. My life. Everything.

The count began when I examined Price Alexander Wells: victim zero.

The Watcher.

The monster who tortured me.

Of course, on paper, he wasn’t labeled a vic. On paper he died of a toxic overdose of saxitoxin due to ingesting shellfish. My official examination stated: accident.

The world will never know the evil that monster inflicted. The truth of it is buried with him, all his secrets…and mine. My corrupt part in the disposal of my abductor gave me—the victim—the final say.

In that way, he was my ground zero. The shattered and decimated ruin from where my new life began.

Once you’ve stared into the dead eyes of your tormenter, seen his insides filled with falsifying evidence, and stamped your name on the COD report to conceal his murder… Well, there’s really no turning back.

This is what starting over looks like. This is what becoming a stranger to yourself feels like. This must’ve been what Sadie suffered all those years ago, and why I could never truly reach her. Or communicate with her. No matter how hard I tried, there was always a noticeable barrier between us. Just a sliver of glass that I could look through and glimpse the person, but not touch.

I turn and stare into the mirror along the wall. And as I look at myself—pale blond hair, skin faded against a white lab coat—I can actually sense the glass between me and my reflection. A thin pane that I should be able to see right through, but somehow, I now notice all the imperfections distorting my image.

Maybe they were there before, and I just never noticed them until now. Somehow the veil was lifted while I was trapped in the hull of that sailboat. I see more clearly than ever before.

I hate it.

Ignorance of our own fractured existence is bliss.

With a sigh, I reach into my pocket and bring out my scar gel. I dab the gel along the healed over cut, my finger tracing the beveled skin of my lip and the soft tissue above my chin. It’s faded from an angry red to pink, and will eventually be white—but the scar will never fully disappear. This imperfection is skin deep. A permanent reminder.

I sustained other lacerations and scars, smaller blemishes covering my body, but those I can concea

l. And in time, they will no longer be noticeable. My abductor knew what he was doing when he sliced my face. He took his time, drawing out the agony, staring into my eyes as he carved my skin.

I wasn’t supposed to survive, but in the event that I did, he made sure I’d forever carry his mark.

I close my eyes, inhale a deep breath laced with the chemical scents of the crime lab, and turn toward the vic on the slab, reminding myself why I came back. Why I’m here—why I’m choosing to relive this every day—instead of working at the state of the art pathology lab in New York City.

The offer came in shortly before I was abducted. Back then, there was no hesitancy in my blunt but gracious refusal. I was doing the work I believed in already. I was making a difference right here near the heart of the country.

On the day I returned home, I stared at that letter for hours until the words blurred. It’s all still a blur—but the one clear understanding in that moment was that I could not run away. Regardless if Wells is dead…despite the fact that I no longer fear him…retreating from my own lab would be letting him win in the end.

He will not win.