When my childhood home came into view, I mentally sagged in relief.

All I wanted to do was slip into my old bedroom and hide from the world – from my problems.

I needed the sanctuary while I tried to make sense of my life. Of my guilt. Of how I was going to move forwards now.

I wanted to make things work with Jordan, but the thought of losing Hunter caused me physical pain.

I wasn’t pleased with this side of my personality.

I'd been raised to be better than this.

I had grown up expecting to have a love like my parents shared. A fierce, lifelong, unconditional connection. I had it now, but I had it with two men.

One, my husband.

The other, my lover.

I was going to crash and burn over this.

I could feel it.

For the rest of my life, there would be a hole in my heart.

Either way, I lost.

It wasn’t about who I loved more.

It was about who I couldn’t hurt.

And I couldn’t hurt Jordan.

I couldn’t do it…

Pulling into my parents' empty driveway, I killed the engine and just stared up at the house.

The house was in complete darkness.

Nobody was home.

Relief seeped through me.

At least I could sneak straight up to my room without the third degree.

I let myself in using the house key and just stood in the hallway for a moment, revering in the silence. I needed this. Some time to gather my thoughts and compose myself.

My phone continued to vibrate in my sweatpants' pocket, and this time I slid it out and looked at the screen.

Four missed calls from Dad, two missed calls from Jordan, nine missed calls from Hunter, half a dozen voicemails, and a string of text messages.

Dad: I have something to tell you. Call me.

Hunter: Where are you?

Dad: Call me ASAP.

Hunter: I need to see you.

Hunter: Tell me where you goddamn are, HC!

Hunter: You need to come over here. I need to talk to you.

Hunter: Answer me, dammit!

Cringing, I tapped out a text message, first to my father, then to Hunter.

Hope: Dad, I'm home and nobody's here?

Hope: I need some time, Hunter. I'm staying at my parents' place tonight. Please give me space.

As soon as I pressed send, I switched my phone off and headed into the kitchen.

I just needed space from everyone.

I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do now.

Flicking on the kitchen light, I made a beeline for the coffee pot.

I needed caffeine.

Badly.

Something to warm the coldness growing inside of my body.

Everything was more with Hunter.

He wanted me to be myself.

I felt oddly free around him, immersed in emotions I had only read about in storybooks.

Because Hunter Casarazzi didn’t want the diluted, censored version of me.

He wanted the ugly, X-rated, uncut and unedited version of my heart.

The part he owned entirely.

Because somewhere along the way, I had lost a piece of myself in Hunter Casarazzi and I didn’t think I would ever be able to replace that piece.

It was only when I heard this strange clicking sound come from behind me, followed by someone roughly clearing their throat, that I realized I wasn’t alone.

I spun around and yelped in surprise when my eyes landed on the stranger sitting at the kitchen table. "Jesus Christ," I strangled out, clutching my chest with my hand as panic laced through me. "Who the hell are you?"

"Hello, sweetheart," the man said, cold blue eyes locked on mine. "Remember me?"

My heart hammered violently only to stop dead in my chest when I noticed the gun on the table. My gaze flicked from the gun to the man then back again.

Horrified awareness slapped me straight in the face as I put two and two together and came up with a big fat four.

"David?" I choked out, as I slowly began to piece together the resemblance between the man I'd seen when I was a child to the man sitting before me. He was older now, more weathered, but it was definitely him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Now, now," he tutted as he slowly rose to his feet, gun held firmly in his right hand. "Is that anyway to greet your grandfather?"

"Probably not," I agreed, edging towards the door. "But I don’t see any grandfather of mine in this room. And you don’t look sick"

He smiled. "I'm not."

Shaking my head, I gaped at him. "Then how are you out?"

"It's good to have friends in high places," he mused. He cocked the gun at me then, aiming at my chest, before muttering a string of curse words. "The quality of this C9 is really beneath me," he explained. "I hate cheap products."

"Are you serious?" I strangled out. Was I hearing this right? Was he seriously debating the quality of the gun he had, no less than a minute ago, been aiming at my chest?

Oh, screw this…

My survival instincts kicked into gear then and I dove for the kitchen door, my only thought being get away now…

The words, "I wouldn’t do that if I were you," caused me to freeze on the mortal spot. "I would hate to have to shoot you, Hope. But I will, if you leave me no choice."

Forcing back the sob that threatened to tear from my chest, I spun around and glared at him. "What do you want?"

"Don’t act so obtuse, Hope," David scolded with a shake of his head. "You know what I want."

I did.

Revenge.

"I have nothing to do with any of this!" I hissed, desperately trying to keep a handle on my nerves. "Whatever happened between you and my father has nothing to do with me."

"True," David mused. "But she's protected."

My jaw fell open. "My mother?"

He nodded.

"You'll never get to her," I spat. "Ever! So, you might as well just give up now."

"That's true," he replied calmly. "He loves her most. Getting within breathing range of your father's precious little wife was never going to happen."

"Then why –"

"Why you?"

I nodded.

"Because you're next," he explained, tone emotionless. "The two great loves of Kyle Carter's life; his wife and his daughter." Shrugging, he added, "Can't get the wife, so..."

He said the words so calmly, so cool and unattached, that it terrified me. I was in the presence of a true sociopath.

"So, what?" I cried, unable to stop the violent tremors that were racking through my body. "You're going to kill me?"

"Of course not," David soothed. A second man appeared in the kitchen doorway, this one much more frightening than my grandfather. He was young, late thirties, and the biggest man I'd ever laid eyes on. "This is Carl," David added, gesturing to the huge man. "He's going to kill you."

I tried to dart towards the back door, but the man caught me by my hair, dragging me roughly towards him.

"Please don't –" I began to say, but my words were lost when he knocked me to the ground with a savage blow to the face.

Crying out in pain, I cupped my jaw and scrambled away.

Fear like I'd never known flooded my body, adrenalin coursing through me.

I was going to die here.

He was going to kill me.

"Please," I croaked out, pleading for my life, even though I knew it was pointless. "Don’t do this."

Please god, don’t let this happen to me.

Please god…

"I wish I could tell you it will be quick and painless," David called out as he walked out of the kitchen. "But we both know that's a lie." He turned to the man and said, "Call me when it's done."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with my potential assassin.

"You don’t have to do this," I coaxed, scrambling away from the man. I dragged myself to safety, huddling in the corner. "Please – ooof…" The air was knocked clean out of my lungs when his boot caught me hard in the stomach.

"You're a pleasant surprise, bitch," the man snarled, towering over me. "Real fucking nice." His hands dropped to the buckle of his belt. "Bet that pussy of yours is nice and snug."

Winded, I used every ounce of strength I had to kick him away. "Don’t you dare!" I gasped, desperately trying to drag air into my lungs, as I scrambled away.

Fisting my hair, he roughly dragged me back to him. "Don’t bother trying to run, Cunt!" Forcing me to the ground, he straddled my body, kneeling down on my hands so hard, I was sure the pressure would shatter the bones in my wrists. "It only makes me hard."

"Fuck you," I hissed, spitting and kicking at him with everything I had inside of me. Bucking beneath his unbearable weight, I desperately tried to free myself from his hold.

"Fuck me?" he snarled. Rearing his arm back, he punched me full force in the face. "Fuck you, bitch!"

Everything went hazy then.

Pain scorched through my face as blood tricked from my nose.

Coughing and spluttering, I turned my face to the side and gasped for air, but he grabbed my chin in one beefy hand and roughly forced me to look at him. And then, he hit me again, this time with so much force, it felt like my eye socket had detached from the rest of my face.

A sob tore from my throat when I watched him pull a knife from his back pocket. "What do you want inside you first," he sneered, gesturing towards the sharp blade. "My cock or this knife?"

"No," I cried out, struggling relentlessly even though I knew it was pointless.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to die.

"Get off me," I screamed, trying to twist sideways.

It was no use.

He was too big.

Too powerful.

This man was going to do what he wanted with me, and I couldn’t stop him.

I'd never felt more helpless in my life.

"This is for your daddy's benefit," he snarled, as he pressed the tip of the knife to my cheekbone. "David said your father would appreciate the irony; like mother, like daughter."

Then he cut me.

I screamed out in pain as the knife sliced through my flesh, opening me from cheek to jawline.

I think I passed out then, the pain and the smell of blood too much to comprehend.

When I came around several minutes later, my clothes were gone.

With the exception of my panties, I was naked as my torturer knelt over me with his pants down and his penis in his hands.

Cold to the bone, and feeling weaker than I ever had, I feebly tried to shove at his chest. My hands free now, but too numb to do any damage.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I noticed the knife he'd use to torture me was laying on the floor beside us. I tried to reach for it, but it was too far away and I was too broken to get my body to move. "Please," I croaked out, begging for mercy. "Don’t do this…"

"What did I tell you about begging, bitch?" the man sneered as he reached for the hem of my panties. "Turns me on."

Whimpering, I desperately tried to press my thighs together in a pathetic bid to protect myself.

It was no use though.

He was going to rape me.

And then he was going to kill me.

He dragged my panties down my legs and grinned darkly before saying, "This is going to hurt."

Tears streamed down my cheeks, mixing with the blood clotting on my face, as I thought about my father finding my body like this.

I clenched my eyes shut and braced myself for the pain I was sure would catapult through my body.

It never came.

I heard my tormenter roar out in pain.

Seconds later, the weight of his body was gone.

Light headed and petrified, I forced my eyes open and cried out in shock at the sight before me.

Hunter.

I had prayed for divine intervention and it had come in the form of my lover.

"You sick fuck," he snarled as he dragged my tormentor away from body and pounded his fists in his face. "You sick, mother fucking bastard!"

I watched in what felt like a dream-like state as Hunter pinned the man to the kitchen floor and beat his fists into his face over and over and over.

The sound of bones crunching filled my ears.

Blood sprayed from the man's face as he made a gurgled protest and tried to push him away

Hunter didn’t stop.

He continued to hit him until the man's head smacked loudly off the kitchen tiles.

He looked over to where I was huddling in the corner and I swear I had never seen fury like I did in his blue eyes.

Without a word, Hunter stood up, walked over to where the knife was laying, and picked it up. He walked back to where my tormentor was writhing in agony.

And then Hunter began to cut.

And the man began to scream.

He started with his face, slitting him from his temple to his jawline.

He didn’t stop there.

I watched in horror as Hunter roughly grabbed the man's exposed penis and lowered the knife.

Blood sprayed everywhere and I heaved, knowing full well that the screams that came from my tormentor's mouth would haunt me until my dying day.

I was screaming, too.

I couldn’t stop.

Hunter silenced his screams with one final slash to the throat, and watched with dark eyes as the life slowly bled out of him.

Only when my tormentor stopped twitching and gurgling did Hunter finally stand up.

Gasping for air, I mirrored his actions and scrambled to my feet, while gaping in absolute horror as Hunter stood over the lifeless body.

There was blood everywhere.

On me.

On him.

Everywhere.

Hunter dropped the knife on the floor and slowly turned to face me. His chest was heaving, his face and body drenched in another man's blood

I watched him watch me as my body trembled violently.

Wordlessly, he stepped over the lifeless man on the floor and grabbed a hand towel from the draining board. He approached me almost cautiously, like he wasn’t sure what I was going to do, and pressed the towel to my bleeding face.

None of the earlier violence was in his eyes now.

All I could see was love.

He never spoke a single word as he yanked his blood splattered hoodie off and gently slipped it over my head before feeding my hands through the too-long sleeves.

My body shook from head to toe as he dressed me; the tender show of affection too much for my heart to take.

"Oh god," I strangled out as a sob tore through me. "Oh god!"

My eyes flicked from his to the lifeless body on the ground.

"Oh god, Hunter," I choked out as fear threatened to overtake me. "What have we done?"

"Shh." His arms came around me, and it felt just like I remembered. I was cocooned in his embraced, cloaked in his love. "It's okay." He held me tight with one hand and stroked my hair with the other. "Everything is going to be okay."

"You killed him," I sobbed, clutching my chest. "You killed him for me."

"I love you," he whispered brokenly. "There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you."

"Wait – don’t leave me," I whispered in horror when he took a step back from me. He refused to meet my eyes as he ran a hand through his hair and choked out a pained sound. "Please." I was sobbing now. Crying real hard and ugly. "Please don’t go."

"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, voice torn and weary. "I just need to make a call."

"Who are you calling?" I demanded, chest heaving, as I stumbled after him.

"The cops, Hope," he whispered. "And an ambulance."

"The cops?" I balked and shook my head. "They'll arrest you."

"I know," he whispered.

This man was vicious.

He'd committed crimes.

He had blood on his hands.

What I'd just witnessed him do should have been enough to send me running.

I should let him make the call.

But I couldn’t.

"Hang it up," I strangled out. When he made no move to put his phone away, I staggered towards him and smacked his cell out of his hands. "Hang up the fucking phone, Hunter!"

"Hope," he whispered, voice pained. "I have to call them, sweetheart."

"No," I shot back fiercely. "No!"

"What do you want me to do here, Hope?" Raking a hand through his hair, he exhaled a heavy sigh. "There's a body in there, sweetheart, with my prints all over it." He shook his head again and said, "And you need to see a doctor. Your face..." His voice broke off and I watched him take several short breaths before adding, "Goddammit, Hope, that piece of shit raped–"

"He didn’t!" I strangled out, head spinning. "You stopped him, Hunter. You saved me!" I hissed, clutching his shirt in my hands. "That man was sent here to kill me! If it weren't for you, he would have. And you are not going back to prison for saving my life."

"What are you saying?" Hunter shot back, eyes wary and locked on my face.

Inhaling a calming breath, I looked up at his face and said, "I’m saying we get rid of the body."

Crazy as it seemed, tonight's events had shed a direct light on my future.

I knew who I was now and I had finally come to the conclusion that I would much rather live a broken life with Hunter than one without him.

Was I ready to walk away from my marriage for him?

I didn’t know the answer to that.

But I couldn't give Hunter up.

I needed to be with him, whatever the cost.

Regardless of what everyone thought, or what it cost my conscience and moral fiber.

I wasn’t giving him up.

I was keeping this man.

That was all I knew for now.

* * *