Page 190 of Hymns of the Broken

I stand,but before I move, Jasper tugs me in for a quick, fierce kiss—his lips whispering a promise against mine. Riot follows, brushing his thumb down my jaw, searching my eyes. “You’ve got this, Hellcat.”

My insides shake, but I manage a genuine, if small, smile. “Just… don’t let me out of your sight, okay?”

“Never,” Jasper promises, voice solid as stone.

I slip upstairs to change, peeling off Riot’s shirt with slow, careful hands. For a moment, I stare at my reflection. It’s a battlefield. Bruises ring my neck, dark and ugly, reminders of hands that didn’t love me. My wrists and ankles bear angry red bands from the chains, and my thighs still ache from the paddle’s cruel impact. I swallow, fingers trembling as I smooth a bandage over the cut at my hip, another at my thigh.

I almost want to cover up—hide every inch of damage. But the guys have seen it all. They always look at me as if I’m strong, not broken. Riot and Jasper touched every bruise, kissed every scar. They made me feel like more than my pain. Like maybe I’m allowed to take up space in the sun again.

Out the window, I spot Macee already sprawled on a pool chair, sunglasses on, legs out, waiting for me like always. The sight steadies me, a tiny burst of courage lighting in my chest.

I tug on a simple black swimsuit, the one I’ll feel safest in, grab a towel, and head downstairs. Every step aches, but I don’t slow down. Not for pain. Not for fear.

I pass through the living room, and the whole group falls silent. Riot’s band, Ash, Jace, Silas, Micah, along with Riot and Jasper, each one tries not to stare, but their eyes linger on the evidence. The bruises. The cuts. The marks that spell out everything I survived.

Silas’s jaw goes hard. He looks like he wants to tear something apart. Ash and Jace both wince, trying to school their expressions but failing to do so. Jace’s hand twitches toward his neck, sympathy flickering in his gaze. Micah meets my eyes, steady, and gives a quiet nod that somehow means more than all the words in the world.

I cross the room, not hiding, not hurrying, and make my way to Jasper first. He stands, pulling me into a quick embrace, his lips gentle on my temple. “You sure you’re okay?” he murmurs, worry painting every line of his face.

I nod. “I’m sure. Just stay close?”

He squeezes my hand. “Always.”

Riot’s next. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, voice rough with everything he can’t say in front of the crowd. “Go have fun, Hellcat. We’ll be watching. Nobody touches you but us.”

My lips tremble with a smile. I lean in for one last kiss,histhumb tracing the edge of a bruise on my jaw with something like reverence.

I square my shoulders and head for the door, knowing Macee’s waiting. I can survive anything, as long as I don’t have to do it alone.

When I step outside the sun is bright, the heat warming my skin, and the air smells like chlorine and sunscreen. Macee looks up, grinning, and waves me over.

Girl time. Safe time.

The pool glitters under the morning sun, but I’m not feeling it yet. Not really. I’m wrapped in my towel, tucked into a lounge chair beside Macee. The water laps quietly in the background, a steady, soothing sound. Macee’s already got her sunglasses on, one foot swinging off the edge, her energy radiating.

“We don’t have to talk about anything heavy if you don’t want to.” She glances over and watches me pick at a loose thread on my towel, then throws her head back dramatically. “God, this is tragic. Two beautiful women sitting five feet from the water, and not a drop of tequila in sight.”

I snort, rolling my eyes. “It’s like ten in the morning.”

“Hey, it’s noon somewhere, and trauma has no time zone,” she shoots back, grinning. She nudges my shoulder, waiting. When I don’t bite, her face softens.

A long, easy silence falls. I knowshe’swatching me—not my bruises, not the way my hands shake when I adjust the towel around my shoulders. She’s watching me—her best friend.

Finally,she breaks the silence with a sigh, dropping the act. “Alright, out with it. You’re in your head, Sawyer. Don’t even try to play. You know you can tell me anything.”

I look at her, really look, and for the first time since last night, I don’t feel afraid to talk. There’s no judgment in her eyes, just patience and the familiar, grounding weight of her friendship… And I should’ve known that.

She doesn’t flinch at the wounds, the bandages, the faded blood on my thigh. She looks past it all, searching for the girl underneath. The same one who would play in the treehouse in her backyard, who graduated with her, and shot weddings with her. The same one who likes coffee, tacos, cats, and photography. The same one who sat up late reading dark romance under the covers, laughing while making her read all the smutty scenes.

We sit there in silence for a long moment; the sun glinting off the pool, my heart pounding out a broken rhythm. I twist the edge of my towel until it nearly snaps. Macee watches me—quiet, steady, not pushing anymore, but not letting me escape either.

I take a shaky breath. “Okay, lets talk about it—all of it. I haven’t said it out loud to anyone but Jasper and Riot. But you’re my best friend. I want to talk about it with you too.”

Macee doesn’t flinch. She leans in, letting her hand rest gently over mine. “You know you can tell me anything, right? No matter how messy. No matter how dark.”

I nod, even as my voice wavers. “When Blake… when he took me—” My throat threatens to close, but I force the words out. “I was terrified, Mace. I thought I was going to die. But that’s not even the worst part… Not to me, anyway.”

She stays silent, just holding my hand, her eyes shining with unshed tears.