Page 65 of Monsters Carve Thrones

“No.” I opened the door and got out. I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t sure I ever would be again.

***

The hotel bathroom was too clean with its white tile, polished chrome, and sterile lighting. I stared at my reflection and didn’t fucking recognize him.

Stepan’s shirt clung to my chest, sticky at the hem. I could still smell the bastard’s cologne–sweet, sickly, expensive. It was coating my skin like rot.

I needed it off. I needed itoff.

I gripped the collar and yanked hard. The fabric ripped straight down the middle, seams tearing with a sharp, satisfying snap. My breath sawed out of me in short bursts. I barely noticed the door creak open behind me.

“Rafe?” Her voice was soft and careful, like she thought I might detonate.

I couldn’t answer. I kept staring at the torn shirt in my hands, fingers twitching. It was like my body couldn’t decide what to do–kill or collapse. I looked down at them. Blood still crusted beneath my nails. His blood. A man I tore apart like he wasnothing. The worst part of it all was that he didn’t know where she was.

My knees buckled, and I caught myself on the counter, chest heaving.

Laura stepped fully into the room. I heard Kieran behind her. Nico, too. Neither said a word. They watched through the cracked door, silent as shadows, waiting.

For what? To restrain me? To clean up the mess I was becoming?

But then, Laura did the bravest fucking thing I’d ever seen. She shut the door.

And locked it.

My head snapped toward her, breath catching in my throat. “What are you doing?” I rasped.

“You’re losing it,” she whispered, taking a step closer. “You’re unraveling.”

“Of course, I’m fuckingunraveling.” My voice broke. “She’s out there. She’s hurt, Laura. Do you understand that?”

Her face crumpled with sympathy, but she didn’t speak. She didn’t try to lie to me.

“I can’t breathe anymore,” I whispered, chest rising and falling like a wave crashing against the shore. “I can’t fuckingthink.All I see is her, and him, and what he might be doing–” My voice cracked, and I curled my fingers into the edge of the counter, dragging my nails until they caught tile. “I wasn’t there.”

“You’re here now,” she said gently. “And you’re doing everything you can to get her back.”

I couldn’t look at her. I stared down at my hands again. Trembling. Bloodied. Useless.

A killer’s hands.

A husband’s hands.

I didn’t know which one I was anymore.

“I should’ve protected her,” I choked out. “I promised her...when she married me...I swore I’d never let anyone hurt her. Iswore.”

“You didn’t fail her,” she whispered.

“She’s living in a nightmare because ofme.”

“She’s able tofightbecause of you.”

I finally met her eyes. Blue. Fierce. Filled with something too tender for me to accept. She stepped closer, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. Her hands came up, and she placed them carefully on either side of my face.

I flinched at first. Then leaned in. Her touch was steady, warm, andreal.

“You love her more than anything in this world,” she said. “And that’s what’s going to bring her home.”