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“Don’t say that,” Catherine says, her words trembling. “I-I need you to tell me that it doesn’t look that bad.”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what happened?”

She glances around, her eyes swimming and her grip tightening when I step down the path. To keep her calm, I link our arms and slowly guide her. “It’s nothing.”

“Catherine, don’t give me that. We both know this isn’t nothing. Was this a hit? A message? Is someone trying to get to you? Or your family?” Catherine’s family may be low on the food chain, but that doesn’t make them exempt from pain. People have been targeted for a lot less.

“It’s nothing like that,” she says quietly. “I just want to go home.”

“No, honey. We’re not doing this. Please tell me we’re not doing this.”

“Doing what?” She still doesn’t look me in the eye when we reach my car.

“Protecting the people that did this. I swear to you, there is nothing and no one worth protecting over something like this. You know me, sweetie. You know I can take care of this.”

Catherine finally looks up at me, and the defeat in her eyes breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. “I don’t want to go home.”

“That’s okay.” I smile warmly. “You can stay with me. Come on.”

Helping her into the car takes a minute or two due to her injuries and some stiffness in one of her knees, but once she’s settled, I buckle her in and we leave the clinic behind. I keep the music on low to create a pleasant atmosphere and keep one eye on her at all times while questions burn in my mind. Eventually, I can’t stay quiet as much as I know I probably should.

“Are you sure this wasn’t targeted? Even if it wasn’t, if some shitty little mugger thinks he can get one over on you then I’m telling you, I’ll make sure he doesn’t walk again.”

“It wasn’t that,” Catherine murmurs, plucking at her jeans. “It’s not…it’s nothing.”

“Don’t do that. Your pain is notnothing. Not to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Honey, you have nothing to be sorry for. But look at me, you know I can make sure whoever did this pays for it. And if you’re worried about me getting hurt, or it’s about your association with me then I promise you?—”

“It was Seth.”

Three small words suddenly turn my car into a gigantic cavern. Everything falls away, including my focus on the drive as anger fogs my vision and Catherine’s voice becomes a very distant hum.

Seth.

Catherine’s perfect boyfriend Seth?

The dude with the curly hair and the dogs. The love of her life?

I glance at her. She’s watching me with wide eyes as if my reaction will make or break her. Too many questions flood mymind, but in the end I only need to know the answer to one. It’ll determine how many of his fucking bones I break.

“Is this the first time?”

“Please don’t kill him.”

“Catherine, is this the first time?”

Her silence lasts until we turn onto my street and are greeted by the perimeter guards.

“No.”

I feed Catherine and let her shower, then I tuck her up in my bed with a bucketload of painkillers and a guard at the door to keep her safe. Then I put out a call for someone to find Seth and to call me when they have an answer. I’m so distracted by the ways I’m going to hurt that man that I don’t notice my father has joined me in the garage until he pulls the handgun out of reach.

“What is this?”

“It’s a gun,” I say tightly, snatching it back. “Do you need a lesson?”