Page 127 of Pretty When She Breaks

My laptop took an infuriatingly long time to boot up, no doubt expressing its displeasure that I’d let her slip through my fingers.

I’m sorry, I told it. I need to find her, though, please help me.

It relented, finally letting me in, and I pulled up the software that tracked the bug I’d put on her phone.

SEVENTY

FINCH

I paced back and forth on the cream carpet, my jaw tight.

I had no idea where Laurel was. I’d felt her flash of pain as I was frantically putting my plan into motion, using an apparent message from Jag to Ashton Vass that Thaddeus needed to see the Lucas pack urgently. I hadn’t left a trail that could be traced back to me, but they’d have figured out someone pulled some bullshit last night and would be on high alert now.

But it was worth it, because it had worked, and I’d seen them file out of the black door a few minutes later. Madison had been covered in blood. I hadn’t moved fast enough to protect her, and I had no idea how badly she was hurt.

She hadn’t replied to any of my messages and had disappeared after that. It was finally morning, and I’d instructed Laurel to meet me at my villa as soon as possible.

There was a knock on the door, and I was there in a second, ripping it open and making Laurel stumble back in surprise. She looked messier than I’d ever seen her. Her longblonde hair was up in a chaotic bun, and her eye makeup was smudged everywhere.

She looked like she hadn’t slept, either.

“Inside,” I said, grabbing her arm and starting to pull her inside. She let out a yelp of pain, and I dropped her arm immediately, my eyes widening. “Christ, I’m sorry,” I said, but she looked at the floor while she composed herself and crossed the threshold.

I closed the door and turned to look at her, for once unsure of what to say.

I’d needed to see her—I’d been desperate for her to be here—but now that she was, I was lost. Her scent was slowly unfurling around her, heavy with pain.

Did…did she even want to be here right now? I’d ordered her to come here to make sure she was all right, but what if I was just causing her more pain? Fuck, this felt too much like the helplessness I experienced around Kaos.

I clenched my jaw further as I tried to untangle the mess of emotions in my head.

Guilt wasn’t something I was used to facing, but it was indisputable that last night had been my fault.

She’d tried to tell me, and I hadn’t listened, and she was the one who had suffered for it.

Why was she just standing there, looking smaller than I’d ever seen her? She should be snarling at me, waving her finger in my face as she said I told you so.

“Re—” I started, and cut myself off, taking a breath as I let the command drop from my voice. “What happened?”

She shrugged, wincing again, furthering my theory that she didn’t want to be here. Which made me feel worse.

I left my question—she’d chosen not to answer it—and guided her to the couch. “Let me see,” I said, meeting her eyes. Let me help. Please.

She wordlessly shrugged off her hoodie, and the edges of my vision went red as I saw a sloppy dressing on her back, already saturated with blood. I forced myself to take a deep breath, then noticed something else; her skin was littered with faded bruises. Long, thin ones, as if someone had hit her with a switch.

When I’d first failed Kaos, he’d been hurt. I had set a bad example, and had pushed him away. He was someone I should have protected.

Laurel was someone that should be protected. It was so obvious, that I hadn’t considered that someone had failed her. But it looked like someone had been failing to protect her for a long time.

I’d brought her under my wing, and now I’d failed her as well.

“I’ll be back,” I said, and went to the bedroom to get my first-aid kit. I stood for a moment, my hands trembling as I tried to calm the rage clawing at my insides.

I took a deep breath, then another. Feeling marginally calmer, I returned to Laurel. She was quiet as I took off the bloody dressing to assess the damage. I snarled as I looked at the wound underneath.

“What is this?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“He started with a knife,” Laurel said in her flat voice. “And then…I think he bit it.”