Pope’s heavy words hang in the air of the bathroom long after he walks out. They stay in my mind as I lean my head back under the soft, rain-like flow of the water pouring from the shower head.

Time to breathe, little mama. Let me take it from here.

How do I do that when there is no trust between us? When the past still lingers, threatening to bring me to my knees at any moment?

Our past is a festering wound that refuses to close.

I never got genuine answers as to why he betrayed me the way he did.

Theories have run through my head over the years.

Especially when I caught wind of how big their war with the Steel Slayers actually was.

But I could never give those theories life because there’s only one person who can give me the answers I need.

There’s anger that still beats behind the ice I’ve covered myself in. It’s an inferno that I know will eventually melt my encasement.

When he told me he had this house built for us, I felt the first tiny fissure form in the ice.

It only angered me more because who in the hell does that?

He destroyed the chance of us being his when he betrayed me years ago, and it was sealed in cement when I called the clubhouse to tell him about the twins.

Instead of letting those painful thoughts in, I shove them away as I pour a handful of shampoo into my palm, but all that does is give room for other memories to attack me.

Fingers tighten around my throat as I stare up at a face I once found endearing. Spittle lands against me as Frankie spews venomous threats while his other hand works the jeans off me. My feeble attempts at fighting only earned my hands to be tied behind my back.

The past threatens to drown me, and only the piercing pain in my scalp from my fingers brings me back to the present. No sooner had I taken a breath than they’re yanking me back under.

Frankie’s fists smack against my body repeatedly.

He’s always so careful to keep them from my face if he can.

It wouldn’t do to have people believe a man in such a prominent position in his company beat his wife.

Sometimes he slips up and can’t control himself.

Mostly when I don’t please him in the bedroom or I upset him in another way.

What set him off this time? Was his dinner cold?

Did the children do something that displeased him?

Maybe he just had a bad day at work. The least I can do when he works so hard is let him vent.

The more I try to shove the memories out, the more they fade to the betrayal from Pope.

Pope stands at the counter, peering out the window, lost in thought as I walk up behind him.

There was a time when I could wrap my arms around him and he’d melt into me.

Now, his body tightens and he pulls away.

My heart pounds sluggishly in my chest as I watch the way he closes himself off from me.

His eyes are no longer warm when they gaze into mine. Instead, they’re empty. So very empty.

A deep, piercing pain shoots through my chest as the memories refuse to stop. I claw at my skin, needing to bleed the pain out. It’s no use as more crash into my brain, bringing me to my knees in the shower stall.

“Do you think he’s cheating on me?” I ask Valkyrie on our way to the clubhouse.

I don’t want to believe it, but I don’t know what else it could be.

“Apollonos? Cheating on you? No way. That man loves you.”

“The signs are there, Kyrie. He’s been pulling away.

Barely touches me. Finds any excuse to not be around me.

Secretive with his phone. I know things are crazy with the club right now because of the Steel Slayers, but this is different.

Chaos always finds the club, but he’s never acted like this before. ”

“He’s not cheating on you,” she says sternly.

The pain in my heart is telling me something different.

“No. Stop, stop, stop,” I plead with my brain.

Blackjack looks at me without expression as I ask him to open the gate. Why am I not being let in automatically as I was before? I swear there’s a flash of pity in his eyes before he turns away, but I can’t be sure.

I place my palm in the middle of my chest, unconsciously rubbing the ache that settles there as we pull through the gate.

“Don’t borrow trouble yet,” Kyrie orders.

“You saw.”

I keep my brain carefully blank as we walk into the clubhouse. The party is loud with laughter and music, but as members catch sight of us, everything tones down. They watch me, their eyes screaming a million different things—anger, sadness, sorrow . . . fucking pity.

Blindly, I reach out for my twin sister’s hand, needing her to anchor me as dread smothers me.

A sob breaks from my chest as some of my most painful experiences fill my head. My body rocks back and forth as I battle against the thoughts, but I lose the fight.

I always do.

Dimple gleefully tells me that Pope is in the playroom when she hears me asking where he is. My stomach dips and rolls as acid fills my throat. There’s only one reason the guys go to the playroom. The walls close in around me as I take heavy steps in that direction.

He wouldn’t do this to me.

He knows this is my boundary, the one thing we won’t come back from. But as I close the distance to the room, the looks from the people milling around outside are warning enough.

Sensual music blasts through the speakers as I step into the room.

My eyes find them immediately. The blast of cold that hits my core is sudden, numbing me. It’s a welcoming blanket over the pain that sears my heart when I see Pope and Diamond together.

I slap my hands over my ears, needing to quiet my brain. My chest clenches as I try to catch my breath, but my lungs struggle to cooperate.

“He doesn’t love you,” Frankie screams, aiming a powerful punch at my stomach. “He threw you all away!” Another brutal hit to my eye sends my vision flickering. “You’re mine!”

Frankie doesn’t let up on his continuous strikes against me.

Legs. Arms. Chest. Back. Face.

Bruises rise quickly, creating a grotesque story of twisted love and deadly anger.

Clumps of my hair fall to the floor as he drags me along behind him down the hall.

I fight as much as I can.

For them.

But the more rage Frankie displays, the quicker my energy drains.

Silently, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I beg the nanny to keep the twins out a little longer.

Frankie lifts me and tosses me against the bedroom wall. My head smacking the drywall has vomit spewing from my mouth, which only angers him more. He yanks his belt from his jeans and wraps it around his hand as he rants at me. The venom he spews is a jumbled mess to my fuzzy brain.

But it all disappears as the belt cracks repeatedly against my skin, splitting it open to bleed out my agony.

A scream tears from my chest as past and present collide in my mind.