“Motherfuck!”

I bolted up, not sure where the fuck I was, but blood dripped down my goddamned chin. Disoriented, I touched my split lip until a sickening wail pierced the silence.

I lunged over the side of the bed, thinking one of the dogs must have gotten hurt, but they were fine. So fine that Kyle jumped up on the bed and start barking his ass off.

The mattress jerked once, twice.

Valentina.

Jesus fucking Christ.

When I spun around toward her, my stomach seized and my adrenaline went light speed. On her knees, she jerked and contorted. She choked and gasped, hands around her throat, crying in an eerie, tortured voice I’d never have imagined could come from a human being. She rocked back and forth, head shaking so hard her hair flew around her in a violent fan.

I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up onto my lap. “Baby! Valentina, wake up!”

Kyle got right in her face, barking and nudging with his snout. I shook her gently, calling her name until she finally stopped shaking.

“No!” she screamed, jumping out of my arms to kneel on the bed, hunched over with her back to me.

The room was dark, but the three-wick candle on her dresser still burned, casting an unnerving red-orange glow over the bed. As she knelt, I could make out her hands grabbing at her stomach. They thrashed in an up and down flutter motion against her abdomen, like she was sopping up something that had spilled down the front of her. The back of her tank top jerked up, exposing her lower back to me. The torturous sound of her cries while gasping for air and slapping at her thighs, her stomach, her forearms, fractured my heart. I moved in behind her carefully, splitting my legs so she knelt between my thighs.

Kyle licked her face and continued nudging her until she stopped grabbing at herself. The bed dipped and Chris sat on the end, a low growl emanating from his chest.

“Sugar . . . ” I rested my hands on her shoulders.

A haunted cry cut through the quiet room and she jerked around to face me. “Jaxxon!” As soon as her eyes met mine, tears poured down her face and she collapsed into herself. “I’m . . . I’m—” She lifted her head and her eyes widened. Reaching out a hand, she touched a shaky finger to my lip. “You’re—you’re bleeding. Oh God, no!”

Her hands flew over her face and she shook her head back and forth so fast I worried she was gonna pull a fucking muscle. “No,” she sobbed. “No. I’m so—so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shhh.” I reached for her, but she lurched away from me. “Baby, I’m good. It’s okay.”

“No,” she whispered. “It’s not—not okay . . . ”

“Valentina—”

“Chris! Hier! Come,” she managed to get out. She turned to me with tortured eyes, shattering into a million pieces right the fuck in front of me, and then she vaulted off the bed and half-ran, half-stumbled into the bathroom.

I bolted up after her, both dogs on my heels, and rushed in just as she fell to her knees in front of the toilet. I turned on the soft lights over the sink and went to her. Pulling her hair back, I held it until she finished puking between body-racking cries. I yanked the band out of my hair, gathered hers in a thick ponytail, and bound it up.

“Shhh, baby. Breathe for me. Atme.” I rubbed her back. The muscles jumped in time to the violent sobs consuming her small frame. “Come on, sugar. In and out.”

Nearly falling over, she leaned back against her cabinets. Grabbing a towel off the rack behind us, I ran it under warm water and sat down across from her against the wall. “Valentina, come here.” I leaned forward and grabbed her arms.

She staggered away from me. When she lifted her head, my stomach knotted tight at the dread all over her pale, damp face. “I am so sorry, Jaxxon,” she whispered. “Did I hurt you?”

“Fuck no. You could never hurt me. Come here.” I reached a hand out to her.

Her gaze fell to stare at it. “I—I hurt you while you were asleep.” Sobs fractured her voice once again. “It’s not okay, it’s not okay.” Tears poured down her blanched cheeks as she hugged her knees to her chest. “This isn’t going to be okay . . . ”

I didn’t do helpless, and I was close to losing my fucking shit. The woman did not cry and she was beyond wrecked. To see her this—broken down . . . I wanted to put my fucking fist through a goddamn wall. “I’m fine, baby, but you’re clearly not. Come here. Now.”

Releasing her knees, she put her tentative hands on the floor, steadying herself, before crawling over to me. When she came within arm’s distance, she lay down on the tile floor and put her head on my thigh, curling up in a fetal position.

“Yeah, sugar. Not happening. Too cold. Up here. I’ll keep you warm.” I wrapped my hands round her arms and pulled her up into my lap, handing her the wet towel.

Covering her mouth, she finally relaxed into me. I sat on the floor, her shaking in my lap, and I held her until her breathing evened out. Chris sat beside me while Kyle lay on the floor, his head across her feet. Now I got why the dogs slept with her.

“How we doin’, liebste?” I mumbled into her hair, smoothing her bangs out of her face. It was German for “my love,” and I didn’t give a fuck if she knew that translation. What was going on right here . . . It was like a fist squeezing my bloody heart while still lodged in my chest.

She nodded against my neck.

I rested my cheek against her head. “Valentina . . . you’ve gotta tell me something, here.” I didn’t know how to help her, except to hold her, which wasn’t even close to good enough after what I’d just witnessed.

“How’s your lip?” She lifted her head with the towel over her mouth, then frowned and reached a finger up, running a soft finger over my bottom lip.

“I’ve had worse.” I framed the side of her face so she couldn’t turn away from me, running a thumb over her cheek.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she collapsed back into me.

“All right, baby, up. Let’s go. Do you need anything?”

“Brush my teeth,” she muttered and scooted off my lap. I stood up behind her, bent over, and lifted her under the arms until she was upright and steady. Slender but strong fingers dug into my biceps as she steadied herself. “I’m so sorry . . . thank you.”

“Jesus Christ, Valentina. Don’t thank me. I’m not gonna fucking break. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

Running a hand over my cheek, she turned to the sink and brushed her teeth. She must have burned her damn mouth with the amount of time she held that Listerine. Leaning over the sink and spitting in the most elegant way after just puking her guts out, she finally wiped her mouth and turned to me.

When her swollen lips parted but no words came, I cut off whatever she struggled with and picked her up. Marching us back to her bed, I put her down, climbed in beside her, and turned her to me so we were face to face. I had questions. She may not want to answer them, but I was sure as fuck gonna push, because this—this shit was violent, malevolent, tormented shit.

Clasping her hands, she snuggled close to me and moved down so her head rested under my chin. After pulling the blankets around us, I wrapped my arms around her and held her as close as I could get her without cutting off her air supply. I pulled my hair band out of her hair and ran a hand through her long tresses—finally able to let out the breath I’d been holding for what felt like the past hour.

“Baby, does this happen all the time?”

“Not all the time,” she whispered. “Kyle wakes me when—when they come.”

“Is there a trigger?”

Pushing her cheek against my chest, she sighed. “They come when they want.”

The way her body tightened up, I knew she was keeping something from me. What I’d seen her go through had been vicious, so I didn’t want to push her now, but if we were going to work, I needed information. “Is there something I need to know? Was it because I was holding you?”

When she lifted her head, fresh tears slid down her cheeks, and she slapped them away hard as if disgusted. “No. This is my fault. I—I shouldn’t have asked you to stay. I’m so sorry.”

“Bullshit. I want to stay with you. It’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s you I’m concerned about. Whatever you’re not telling me, baby, please. Fucking trust me. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Please, Jaxxon.” Wrapping her arms around me, she tucked her head into me. “Please just hold me.”

“As long as you want.”

Subject closed. She didn’t trust me enough to talk about this yet, and yeah, that fuckin’ stung, but after tonight, she got a pass.

I rested my chin on top of her head and rubbed her back. “Shhh. Atme, baby. In and out. Nice and slow—good. Breathe.”

This was fucking bad, like fucked-up-beyond-all-recognition bad. Something unthinkable was torturing my woman, and I’d had a violent confirmation it was tied to those scars.

Not wanting to upset her further, I didn’t touch them now, but having felt them before, the placement of them, the jagged edges of the larger ones that left her infertile, the long one on her thigh, I now had a pretty clear idea about how they got there. They were too centered on her lower body. Marks like those spoke of an uncontrolled rage.

And the only thing running through my head was I hoped the motherfucker who put them there was dead and fucking rotting. Because if he still breathed the same air as she did, and if I found him, it was gonna be a hard, bloody, long-ass death, and one I’d enjoy delivering. Consequences be damned.