Page 52 of The Retaliation You Deliver

Pulling my legs up to my chest, I wrap my arms around them, noticing the blood that transferred from him to me.

I have no idea who it belongs to, and if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t care. There’s a sick part of me that even wishes it’s my uncle’s.

I know Leon wanted his location for a reason. I’m not stupid, or naïve. I know that whatever he’s planning isn’t just a pleasant social visit to reminisce on old times. When Leon does go and visit, I have a feeling it will be the last time anyone sees him.

It should terrify me that I think he’s capable of something as serious as that. But honestly, all I feel is relief.

I’ve wanted to stop my uncle from hurting anyone else for years. He may be incapable now seeing as fate took over and ripped away his opportunities to get close to anyone, hell, to even remember anyone. But still, he doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as us after all the destruction he’s caused.

Rustling fabric behind me catches my attention, and when I look over my shoulder, I find Leon shedding his clothes, dropping them into a heap on the floor.

I gasp at the dark bruises on his ribs that match those darkening his face.

Whoever he saw tonight clearly gave as good as he got.

Without saying a word, or asking permission—not that I really expected him to—he steps into the tub behind me, quickly sinking into the water.

His muscular legs slide along the outside of mine, his simple touch making me shiver with awareness.

I sit motionless, not knowing what to do or what he needs right now.

My heart thunders in my chest as I wait for the other shoe to drop, for some spiteful words to fall from his lips.

But nothing ever comes.

When he does move, all he does is lace his arm around my waist and pull me back against his chest.

I shudder as his lips press to my shoulder and my eyes shutter at the simple move.

I shouldn’t react to it, but I can’t help myself.

Silently, I follow his lead and lean back against him as he reaches for the sponge and rubs some soap into it.

He starts on my arms, rubbing rhythmic circles into my skin, cleaning every inch of me. He pays extra attention to my shoulders, massaging them with the soft suds.

I moan as he presses his fingers into my aching muscles, appreciating the attention after being abandoned for hours.

Happy with one, he moves onto the next as my head falls lax and I just lay there enjoying his touch.

It’s so different from how he treated me earlier tonight, it makes my head spin, but it doesn’t stop me from enjoying it.

I want to think he’s feeling guilty, making up for leaving me like he did, but this is Leon Dunn we’re talking about, and anything could be going through his head right now.

Once he’s finished washing my arms he moves on to my chest, cleaning that with the same meticulous precision he did my arms.

I try to fight my reaction but I can’t hold it in when he brushes the sponge over my nipples.

His hand on my waist tightens as my gasp cuts through the air. But still, he says nothing. He just continues with the task at hand.

My head spins with confusion.

The Leon that walked out of this bathroom was so full of hate and anger, so much so he’s returned covered in someone else’s blood. But the Leon who’s silent behind me really is lost and broken in all the ways I accused him of.

Unable to stand the silence anymore, my lips part.

“Le—"

“Don’t. Please,” he breathes, and I immediately slam my lips shut again.