Thickness lodged in my throat. A tingling swept up the back of my neck and across my face. My skin was too tight, too sweaty, too cold, and too impossibly hot all at the same time.

This couldn’t be happening to me.

My back was up against a wall, huddling in the corner of the kitchen. Sobs were trapped in my throat as my thoughts shattered. My body was on display in images for everyone I worked with to see. I felt violated in a way that sunk deep into my skin, got right into the marrow of my bones, and darkened my insides. I curled up on the floor, wanting all of it to end. I just wanted everyone to go away. Or me, maybe. Maybe, I could just vanish into thin air and never see any of these people again.

They talked in hushed tones over my head like I wasn’t there. Collecting evidence. Tiptoeing around pictures of me completely naked. Unknowing. Gullible. Stupid. Dirty. Whore. How would I ever be able to show my face at work again? How would I ever trust another man? I never wanted to do this again. I tugged my sweater on. I didn’t have enough layers of clothes to cover my shame.

Ryan was in my living room. Through the doorway, I could see him pacing back and forth, hands clasped around the back of his neck, face twisted and grim. He stole a quick glimpse of me each time he treaded past the opening of the kitchen, a dark look filled with confusion and rage.

Dean sat at the kitchen table, leaning his elbows on his knees, trying desperately to talk to me. I stared blankly ahead, watching each time Ryan stormed past the door.

“You have to give me something, Brooke,” Dean rumbled.

I stayed frozen, unable to meet his eyes.

“Is Ryan Cage the guy you’ve been seeing?” Dean asked in a low whisper.

My chest tightened sharply, and I flinched, gulping back the rest of the vomit that was trying to explode from my throat.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but this looks like a jealous boyfriend.” My brother is a good detective. I knew he was trying to figure it all out, put the pieces all together, but I just couldn’t speak. Right next to my foot was a black and white photograph of me, taken through a window. I was obviously putting on a solo performance for someone, and I looked almost possessed. I sob broke out of my chest as his eyes glanced quickly down at it.

“Shit,” he said, snapping up the picture and slapping it face down on the table. “Okay, Brooke. Come on, focus.” Dean was desperate. This wasn’t how he ever spoke to victims.

“Dean, let me handle her,” Harris’s voice said low, as he patted Dean on the back. My brother looked up and hesitated. “Get up, and let me give it a try.”

Dean rose off the chair slowly, keeping his eyes on Harris’. He was a really good detective; the picture was getting clearer and clearer to him that he could trust no one. Just like me. He gradually made his way into the living room and met a stiff, tense presence of Ryan.

Then, Harris blocked my view as he stepped in front of me to sit.

But he never got the chance, because I thrust my foot out and kicked the chair clear across the room. “Don’t come near me.”

“I didn’t do this. Any of this,” he whispered.

I snapped my eyes up to his, “You’re married?”

His body went rigid, his eyes moving back and forth between mine. Then, he looked down quickly at the floor.

“We don’t love each other any more. I was in the process of…”

“Being married. You are married. Married.” I barked out a laugh. “No wonder you wanted to keep me hidden.”

He breathed in deeply, hovering tall over me.

“What about you?” he whispered, though clenched teeth. “You going to tell me you cared? You going to sit there and say you didn’t bounce on my cock, because you wanted to make detective, like the rest of them? You’re different, right?” He stepped back, snarling. “You’re nothing more than a fucking, lying whore.”

I bolted up, looking him dead in the eyes. “And this is your payback? Everyone is going to find out this was you. Those pictures are all of me and you, because I am not a whore. The only guy I’ve been with for the last six months is you!”

His face blanched, and his hands clasped hard over my arms. His fingers dug so forcefully into my skin that I felt it bruise instantly.

Then Ryan was there, in between us, wrapping his strong arms around my trembling shoulders. “You’re staying with me,” he said, louder than he needed to. His eyes grazed down over my arms, fingers grazed over my red flesh, and he froze. I watched how his neck corded tightly, how his fists clenched and whitened, and his slow deep breath pulled in and out through a flaring nose. “Anderson,” he grit out. “You ever lay a hand on her again. I’ll kill you.”

“Is that a threat, Cage?”

“Yeah, Captain. It most definitely is.”