Page 102 of Coercion

I don’t have the strength to even raise my head.

Everything hurts so much.

I can feel my blood still trickling down my back. I can feel my body shaking so hard that the metal holding me up is rattling like some macabre symphony above my head.

“What is it?” Nico asks my husband, only he doesn’t reply, he just crouches down in front of me like he’s finally seeing me as a person, like he’s finally seeing every horrific part of me. Every bit I’ve tried to keep hidden.

“How long?” He asks.

I gulp, not wanting to admit it.

“How long?” He snarls.

“From the beginning.” I whisper.

He lets out what sounds like a groan of pain, curling his hand into a fist and he slams it into the solid concrete floor.

“What is it?” Nico repeats again but Preston doesn’t answer.

His hands reach up, he unhooks me from the chain, unties me carefully, holding me far more considerately than he was tying me up. I collapse into him with my body far too heavy for me to keep upright.

My head hurts so much from all the alcohol and the amount of blows to my face.

One of my eyes is swollen so big I can’t even open it properly. My lip is split and I can taste the blood on my tongue.

But it’s nothing compared to the state of my back.

To how my husband has tortured and mutilated my flesh.

“What is going on?” Nico growls.

Preston stares at me like some part of him doesn’t want to speak it, to betray this new horror that I’ve buried so deep.

“He was raping her.” He says.

Nico turns his head, staring from me to Preston. “Who was?”

“Gunnar.”

Preston doesn’t quite meet my eyes as he carries me up out of the basement and back up the stairs and despite myself, I cling to him, I wrap my hands around the softness of his shirt like my life depends upon it.

When we reach the master suite, my eyes widen. I can’t understand why he’s carried me back here and not simply dumped me in one of the spare rooms. Am I not disgusting to him? Am I not repulsive?

Seconds later, Nico walks in, followed by a man I know is the doctor. His eyes widen just a little at the state of me but he clearly keeps whatever is in his head to himself.

He’s quick to pull out his bag, to start stemming the bleeding, to preparing a needle which he tells me will numb the pain, like that’s ever helped me before.

I lay on my front, half dazed as he stitches my skin back together, piece by bloody piece.

Preston is there, standing, arms crossed, watching like his entire world is over.

“I have to get back.” Nico says.

Preston looks across at him and nods.

“I want to know how she is.” He states, fixing Preston with a look I can’t read.

Again, my husband nods and then Nico Morelli looks at me, his eyes narrowed, not in hate, not in anger, but concern, like I deserve it, like I’m someone such a man as him might care about.