Page 95 of On Edge

“I will.” But my hand is shaking so hard, blood wells where the metal snags his skin, daring me to slice deeper.

But he’s not bothered; in fact, he’s looking down at my hand, his eyes narrowing the longer he stares at my wrist.

What’s he looking at?

“Did that fucker do that?”

I blink at him. “What?” I look at where his gaze is drawn, to my wrist, which is marked and red where Fogg manhandled me. “Oh, that.”

Troy slowly reaches up and gently takes my wrist.

“It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, I wasn’t going with him willingly.”

“I see.” Then he glances up, forest-green eyes taking me in, as if bringing me home. “You were afraid.”

I nod, unable to speak.

“I thought you were afraid of me…But it was because of him?”

Another nod.

“Okay, then.” He reaches out slowly, carefully, and turns my damaged wrist over, ignoring the blade in my hand completely, and inspects the marks Dr. Fogg’s fingers have left.

“This doctor,” he says, almost to himself. “He’s the one who treated you after your breakdown.” His thumb ghosts over the bruises forming on my skin.

“If you can call it that…yes.”

The muscle in Troy’s jaw works as his dark eyes flick up and drill into mine. “Tell me everything he did to you. Every single thing. Leave nothing out.”

I nod my head.

“No more lies.”

“No more secrets,” I echo back, feeling my throat want to close over.

Then all the dark hurt suppressed inside spills out at once.

22

TROY

Sage falls against me as we step into the penthouse suite, her weight growing heavier with each step.

“Almost there.” I guide her toward the bedroom, but her knees buckle.

Fuck it. I scoop her up, one arm beneath her legs, the other around her back. She makes a small sound of protest, then her head drops against my shoulder.

“Troy, I can walk.”

“Clearly not.”

I carry her to the bed and set her down carefully. She immediately curls up. That’s when I notice it.

Blood.

There are dark spots on the back of her heels where the Louboutins have cut into her skin—raw, angry welts that look hours old.

My jaw locks. “Why didn’t you tell me?”