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“Is everything alright? Is there a security problem?” he asked reluctantly.
They hesitated.
“What is it?” Max asked sharply.
“It’s The Torturer, boss,” Clinton said at last. “You need to see this.”.
Max's expression shifted to one of confusion. “What’s happened? Is she alright?”
Bose shook his head. “I don’t know, boss. You need to come and see for yourself.”
“One moment.” He returned to the door wearing robe, then allowed his men to lead him to Tesiera’s room. His mind raced with what he’d probably see.
Bose and Clinton stepped aside to allow Max to enter Tesiera’s door first. He took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dimness of the room.
Then he heard a low, almost inaudible whimper.
As he moved further into the room, he could see her body drawn taut on the bed, tears and sweat streaks on her face. She was panting, as if struggling to breathe.
“N-no, no,” she said again, her voice barely above a whisper.
Max felt a sense of dread wash over him. He had witnessed her nightmare a week ago at the beach house, but it had never occurred to him that it might come in the form of sleep paralysis. He wondered how frequent these chapters were and how she coped.
An overwhelming amount of concern, guilt, and pain filled him. Is this what she goes through all the time?
Here is another life you’ve ruined, Maxi. Look at the agony she is going through because of you. This woman is so strong that she could fight several men at one time and win without breaking a sweat. But here she is, fighting unseen demons you created. Just how many lives did you ruin, Maxi?
Max closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. Is this what she goes through at night, living alone? Goddammit, no wonder she cut herself. Tesiera Anderson’s scars went way deeper than he had realized.
“I’ll take it from here,” he dismissed Bose and Clinton, keeping his voice low and hoping to God that his pain wasn’t obvious to them.
Clinton and Bose exchanged a look before nodding and closed the door behind them. Max was left alone with Tesiera, feeling a mix of emotions—pity, concern, and a sense of responsibility to take care of her.
Max's footsteps were soundless as he approached her bed. He looked at her with a heavy heart, watching her pant with terror.
Slowly, he got to the other side and crawled into bed with her and touched her arm gently. “Tesiera,” he called softly, “it’s okay, it’s just a dream.”
Her open eyes widened, and she stared at the ceiling, unseeing. Her cries got louder and tremors wracked her body.
He slid an arm under her shoulders and forced her to sit up. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her.
His tight hug dragged her out of the clutches of the night terror that held her captive, leaving a trembling, struggling Tesiera in his arms. He squeezed her tightly as she screamed.
“Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay. You’re going to be okay,” he said.
She erupted into another scream, and struggled against him.
Tesiera continued to scream, tears streaming down her face. “It hurts. It hurts so much,” she cried, deliriously.
Max held her tightly. “I got you. You’re safe with me,” he whispered in a soothing tone.
Her screams died down, and she wrapped her arms around him. She squeezed him tightly, like a frightened child, who was terrified of letting go. Her body was already flush against his, but she kept pushing closer to him as if she would like to disappear into his body.
Max felt every inch of her soft, feminine body plastered against his. It shook him to his core. . He forced the thoughts away and focused on getting her through the next minute.
He’d thought he’d seen her at her most vulnerable that night at the beach house, but he now realized that had only been the tip of the iceberg. This was a completely different woman in his arms than the tough-as-nails protector that worked for him during the day.
And Max realized that he wanted to know both sides of her.