Page 115 of Shadows of Obsession

"They what?"

I told him. About waking up tied to the woodstove in Jaxon's cabin, about overhearing their talk of Nikki's murder, about Jaxon bursting in and fighting Isaac for the gun. Jaxon filled in the gaps I couldn't—calling the police, riding Choco through the woods.

Connor's voice shook with barely suppressed fury. "I'm coming home. Right now. I'll pack up and—"

"Connor, no," I interrupted. "You only have a few days left of the show. We're okay, I promise. The police have both of them in custody.Isaac's being charged with Nikki's murder, and Jared's going to prison too."

"Anna, you were kidnapped. Drugged. Tied up. That son of a bitch hurt you, and you want me to stay here and show horses?"

A wave of dread washed over me, knowing he was going to blame himself and think he should have been here.

"I want you to finish what you started," I said firmly, even as tears streamed down my face again. "Jaxon and I are safe now. And you being here won't change what happened. Please, Connor. Just a few more days. Then come home."

The silence stretched so long I thought he'd hung up until he spoke again.

"Put Jaxon back on."

I handed the phone back. Jaxon paced to the window as he talked. I couldn't hear Connor, but I watched Jaxon's shoulders tense, watched him scrub his free hand over his face.

"I know," Jaxon said quietly. "I know. But she's right, we're safe now… Yeah, I promise. If anything changes, if she gets worse, I'll call you immediately… Okay. See you soon."

He hung up and returned to sit beside me, pulling me into his arms. "He's staying through the weekend, but then he's coming straight home. And he made me promise to take care of you."

"You already are," I whispered against his chest.

After the draining call, I couldn't stand my own skin anymore. I retreated to the bathroom, desperate to scrub away the phantom sensation of ropes cutting into my flesh, of Isaac's rough hands on my limp, drugged body as he carried me to the truck and tied me up.

I needed to get it all off.

I turned the water as hot as I could stand it, scalding spray beating down on my skin as I frantically lathered soap over every inch of my body. Once. Twice. Three times. But the crawling feeling of violation lingered, no matter how hard I scrubbed.

My hands moved almost frantically, trying to erase the memory of being touched while unconscious, of being helpless and at their mercy. The water turned my skin red, but I couldn't stop. The feeling persisted: Not clean enough. Still not clean enough.

Then the weight of everything—the terror, the violence, the horrible things I'd learned about Nikki's death, the sound of that gunshot—crashed over me all at once under the punishing spray.

A sob tore from my throat, raw and broken. Then another. And another.

My knees buckled, and I sank down onto the tiles. The water pounded over me as violent sobs racked my body. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but cry and shake and feel like I was falling apart.

The bathroom door burst open, and then Jaxon was there, still fully clothed, climbing into the shower without hesitation. He pulled my trembling form against his chest, cradling me as the water poured over us both.

"I've got you," he murmured, his arms solid and secure around me. "I've got you, baby. Let it out."

Streams of tears coursed down my face, mingling with the water from the showerhead. Everything hurt. My face, my wrists, my heart, my soul. I felt shattered into a thousand pieces, and I didn't know how to put myself back together.

But Jaxon held me. He stroked my soaked hair and rocked me gently as I broke apart in his arms, absorbing my pain like he could somehow take it into himself and spare me from carrying it alone.

"You're safe," he whispered against my hair, over and over like a prayer. "You're safe now. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

I don't know how much time passed. Only that eventually, after the water had run cold and my sobs faded to shaky hiccups, Jaxon gently helped me out of the shower. He wrapped me in a towel with such careful tenderness that fresh tears burned behind my eyes. Then he peeled off his own soaked clothes and dried himself quickly.

He lifted me into his arms and carried me to bed. My body felt heavy, wrung out by emotion and exhaustion. I barely registered the soft rustle of sheets as he pulled back the covers, laid me against the pillows, and curled his body around mine like a shield.

His lips pressed to my hair as darkness tugged me under. "Sleep. I've got you."

And despite everything,I believed him.

Jaxon