“She’s strong,” I remind him, my voice fierce with conviction. “She’s fucking strong.”
Garrett’s nostrils flare and he nods. “Fire in her veins. My girl is a fighter.”
“Is she in a lot of pain?”
“They have her pretty sedated and comfortable,” Garrett assures me. “Thankfully, she’s mostly bruised and suffered superficial lacerations. A few stitches in her head from the crowbar they whacked her with that was uncovered in the snow not far from where you found her purse. Concussion. Bruised ribs. The worst of it was the laceration to her neck.” He lets out a rush of air. “It’ll leave a horrible scar, but the angle he cut along was just far back enough that he missed her carotid. It tore along her sternocleidomastoid muscle, but they were able to easily repair it.”
I reach out to touch her forehead, but wince in pain.
“Let me see that hand,” Garrett grunts, walking around the bed to my side. He gently pulls it into his hands. “So this is the weapon that caused all that damage?”
“I wish I’d killed them,” I snarl.
His eyes lock on mine. “You fucked them up. Bad.”
“I hope they’re both in agony.”
“Ryan lost both eyes,” Garrett tells me. “But from what the guys tell me, that happened when Charlotte was defending herself.”
Good girl.
“The shattered eye sockets, crushed cheekbones, and cracked mandible were all you. The missing teeth were all you.” His lips press into a firm line. “He’s lucky if he ever recovers. He’s been in surgery for at least six hours. It’ll be a long road to recovery for him.”
I still wish he were dead.
“What about Michael?”
“He’s in a medically induced coma until the swelling goes down on his brain from his fractured skull.” He scrubs his palm over his face. “If he wakes, they’ll transport him straight to OHP.”
I hope he fucking dies a vegetable, though prison for a dirty, rapist cop might also mean certain death.
“This hand is broken,” Garrett finally says. “If you promise to go get it taken care of, I promise I’ll call for you if she wakes up. You’re no use to her all fucked up yourself. Can you do that?”
I don’t want to leave her, but my hand is swelling too badly. I know I’ll need to deal with it sooner or later.
“I can do that.” Leaning forward, I kiss Charlotte’s lips. “I’ll be back, Charlie girl.”
Charlotte
One week later…
It’s snowing.
Again.
I stare out the window, shivering despite being warm inside Cal’s cabin. The snow makes me think of that night. The pain. The terror. The struggle. Each time I slip back to that horrible night, my emotions threaten to crash down on me.
I survived.
I’m alive.
“Here, Char,” Roux says, setting a hot cup of tea on the end table beside me. “Drink that. You’re trembling.”
I force a smile, dragging my gaze down her heavily swollen stomach. She’s due on Christmas Eve, but her baby girl is huge. There’s no way she’ll make it another week.
“Thanks,” I murmur.
She eases down onto the sofa next to me, leaning her head against my good shoulder. Her hand is warm to the touch as she takes mine, squeezing it. “I’m here to talk. About anything. You know that, right?”
I reach over with my free hand and sip the lemon ginseng tea. “I know.”
“But you’re not talking. I’m afraid you’re bottling it all up inside. What happened…it was horrible, Char.”
Tears sting my eyes. “I think I’ve blocked a lot of it out.”
“Maybe that’s not a safe thing to do,” she murmurs.
“I promise I’m not keeping it inside trying to forget,” I utter, setting my teacup down. “I just can’t seem to linger on that night. Each time I start to panic about it, my mind calms because I know they can’t hurt me again.”
Michael is in a coma.
Cal nearly killed that rapist who tried to murder me in cold blood.
It’s empowering to know he can’t do those horrible deeds to me or anyone else ever again because if he does wake, he’ll go to prison. And Ryan…Cal made sure he’d never be able to do bad things either. Dad told me Ryan’s injuries were extensive. He’s been given the necessary surgeries to keep him living, but nothing cosmetic since they want to put him in prison as soon as he’s healed.
Mom and Dad are worried about the psychological trauma that was caused from the rape and assault of that night. Luckily, I’ve been exposed to proper therapy when I went to rehab. I was quick to want to see a counselor again, knowing the quicker I face my tragedies, the more easily I’ll be able to handle them. Eventually, I will have to testify against the Cunninghams, but when that time comes, I’ll be ready. Cal did what he had to do to protect me, and I’ll say what I need to say to ensure he doesn’t get in trouble for it either. Not to mention, my account of what happened will further nail the case shut and prevent those two monsters from ever hurting anyone again. And when I’m ready, Samantha thinks we can bring everything back to the judge to reopen my accident case. She believes, based on the rapes, we can prove Ryan manipulated me that night and used his father’s police influence to show I was the driver. I’m not looking to drive any time soon, but it’d be great to get my record expunged.
“Emilia is getting antsy to make her appearance,” Roux says in a breathless voice, shifting and rubbing her stomach. “If she grows any bigger, I’ll have a heck of a time giving birth to her.”
“That’s what you get for letting a big Hoodlum knock you up,” I tease.
She flashes me a surprised smile. “How are you okay? I’d be…I don’t know that I could be as strong as you.”
“I’m not okay,” I admit, willing
