Chapter 28

Iwalk up the stairs to the second floor in search of my wife a few days after Cat found out about the other people who inhabit her head. Thankfully, I believe she's come to accept the truth.

I left her asleep in bed an hour ago. In the room, the bed is already made and the bathroom door is wide open with the lights on. I head in that direction, coming to a stop in the doorway when I see Cat standing in front of the mirror over the sink. She hasn't noticed my appearance. My cock fills with blood because she's standing naked and a naked Cat always makes me hard. Curious, I lean against the frame of the door and watch her.

Only her eyes move as she sweeps them up and down her body, stopping briefly at each scar left by a knife wound on her torso. The marks usually go unnoticed because they symbolize something she refuses to acknowledge, so I'm surprised she's looking at them now.

My throat spasms when she turns and looks over her shoulder at the ones on her back and butt. I fucking hate them because these scars were left by me. It doesn't matter that Scarlett demanded I strike her with the whip until I broke her skin. It doesn't matter that I witnessed her relief as I complied with her request. I'll hate myself until the day I die for being one of the sources of her pain.

Cat has never asked about the scars covering her back and ass, even though she was Scarlett when I left them. I think subconsciously, like the ones on her chest and stomach, she knew where they came from so she pretended they weren't there. But now, after finding out what I told her the other day, she can't pretend anymore.

I don't blame her for being curious. Neither do I blame her for asking questions about Scarlett. It felt wrong talking to her about—what could amount to in her mind—me being with another woman. Every time I was with Scarlett, it felt like a betrayal to Cat. My guilt was made worse by the fact that I enjoyed some of the things Scarlett and I did together. Not the times I hurt her. I abhorred those moments. But the anal sex, forcing my cock down her tight throat until she gagged, stealing her breath with a hand around her throat, and being in control when I gave it back to her.

When my cock twitches, I shake my head to rid myself of those thoughts. There have been so many times I've imagined taking Cat while she was actually Cat in the same way. But I've put her through so much as Scarlett that I would never take her so harshly as Cat.

Returning to the mirror, she lifts both arms, revealing another set of scars. Again, she's never acknowledged these either.

I push away from the doorframe and approach Cat. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror. I can see the questions lingering in the blue orbs. It's not easy for me to talk about her scars, but she deserves to know the truth.

I pick up her hand and twist it so we can see the gnarly scar. "A couple of days after you arrived at The Grove the second time, you broke into the kitchen and used a plastic butter knife." I trace the jagged lines with my finger, and my throat tightens. "It was the first time you became Athena. You scared the shit out of me." I lift her wrist and kiss the raised marks.

"Hunter," she whispers, her voice cracking on my name.

"Every time Athena took over and you showed up at The Grove, I was so terrified you'd try again and succeed." I look into her beautiful blue eyes. "But you never did. Only that one time. You still wore bandages when you became her though. It was like you were stuck in the same time period over and over again and you couldn't move past you trying to harm yourself."

I let her hand go. Keeping my eyes locked with hers through the mirror, I begin tracing the small puckered marks on her back

"These are from a whip," I tell her quietly. "The harder I hit Scarlett with it and the more blood I drew, the more it relaxed her. All along the tails of the whip there are little pieces of sharp metal."

She bites her bottom lip and her eyes well with tears. "I can't imagine how difficult that was for you."

"I hated every fucking second of it." I slide my hands around her waist, my hands coming to rest over one of the knife scars on her lower stomach. "But the alternative would have been worse. I didn't want you to turn away from me and possibly seek out pain in other ways or from someone else, so I gave Scarlett what she wanted. If I gave her what she needed, at least I had some control."

She leans her head back against my shoulder then turns her face to press a kiss against my neck. "I wouldn't have blamed you if it became too much and you left."

I tighten my arms around her. "There was no chance of that ever happening. The thought never even crossed my mind. The vows I took when I married you, Cat, are the most sacred words I have ever spoken. Only death will separate us."

She spins around and places her hands on my shoulders. Wrapping my hands around her waist, I pick her up and place her on the counter by the sink before wedging my hips between her legs.

"You are the most incredible, patient, caring, and loving man, Hunter St. James." She tugs my head forward for a kiss. "Please don't ever change."

One hand slides up her spine until I reach the back of her head, fist her hair, and gently pull her head back. I drop my lips to hers and give her a kiss that I wish could lead to more.

Unfortunately, there's a reason why I came looking for Cat. Making love to my wife will have to wait until later.

With reluctance, I pull back. "I have to go to Slate to take care of something. I want you to come with me."

There's no way in hell I'm leaving her here alone with the threat of Whisper and Henry still looming.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, a frown appearing between her eyebrows.

While I don't talk about the darker sides of my life with Cat, I also don't hide it. Instead of lying, which I hate doing because I've already withheld enough information from her for years, I tell her the truth.

"A guy we've been hunting for weeks has been brought to Slate. Silas and I have…," I pause a moment, "things to discuss with him."

Cat isn't stupid. She knows there will be no "discussion" involved. Only flesh meeting flesh and a shit ton of bloodshed.

She nods slowly, worry lining her face.

"Get dressed. I'll be waiting downstairs."

Fifteen minutes later, Cat and I are in my SUV. Ten minutes after that, I'm pulling behind Slate. We enter through the back entrance, and I take her straight up to my office. Silas is vibrating with rage when he walks in seconds later. The tension emanating from him is palpable. His body is locked tight, like he's barely holding back the need to drive his fist through something.

I know the feeling.

Katie comes in directly behind him. Anger flares in her eyes, but it's not as pronounced as the concern. She's worried about Silas's temperament and what will happen when he faces the man who nearly raped her.

I turn to Cat. "You'll stay with Katie while Silas and I take care of this. We won't be gone long."

I'm pretty sure it won't take Silas long to lose control.

"Okay." She rolls to her toes to reach my lips. "Be safe."

"Always."

With my arms wrapped around Cat, I turn to Katie. "Thanks for staying with her."

Katie's eyes are soft when they move to Cat. "It's my pleasure. It's been too long since Cat and I have had girl time. We need to catch up."

After leaving the two women in my office, Silas and I make our way to the basement. It's dark and damp below Slate. The floor and walls are cement, and the temperature is lower than on the upper floors. One of the rooms, where Timothy was placed, has a drain centered in the floor. A hose is attached to a faucet that comes out of one wall. One corner of the room contains a table with rusty tools and rubber gloves.

A mostly naked Timothy hangs from the ceiling by his wrists directly in front of us. Sweat beads down his forehead and hollow cheeks despite the cold seeping from the walls. His naked chest is smeared with dirt, mixing in with the dark hair that covers his torso. The light-blue boxers he's wearing are soaked on the front. My lips curl at the disgusting sight.

Timothy lifts his head, his mop of dark hair sweat-soaked, and his wide, fearful eyes meet mine before he slides them to Silas beside me. He fears us both, but it's directed more at Silas, because it was his girlfriend he touched.

"S-Silas, m-man," he stutters pathetically. "I'm sorry. I didn't know she was your girl."

"Wouldn't fucking matter if she wasn't," Silas growls. "You'd still be right here, facing your executioner, had it been any other woman. But touching Katie just ensures it's going to be a hell of a lot more painful."

The chains clank as Timothy tries to step back, but they hold him in place. "Please. It was the drugs," he pleads. "I ain't never touched a woman like that before. It was the fucking drugs that made me do it."

"No?" Silas cocks a brow. "What about Kendra?"

Kendra is Timothy's younger sister. After he disappeared, we searched for his family to figure out where he could have hidden himself. Kendra is from Utah and was a bitch to track down. But when we did, we found out a shit ton about Timothy and his younger years.

"Kendra?" Timothy croaks. "That bitch asked for it. Begged me for it."

"She begged you to beat her black and blue? She begged you to get her pregnant and then beat her so badly she lost the baby? Is that what you're saying? We've seen the pictures, Timothy. We saw the goddamn video you took and she stole from you before she disappeared. You raped and beat your sister from the time she was fourteen until she ran away at sixteen."

His already pale face drains of more color. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water as he tries to come up with something to say. But there isn't shit he can say. We've seen the evidence, and we're certain he's raped other women as well. Even if he hadn't, it wouldn't matter. The bastard will pay for touching Katie alone.

"How many others, Timothy?" Silas asks, his gait casual as he walks over to the table of tools and starts examining them. Timothy's eyes stay glued to him. "How many other women begged," he sneers the word, "you to rape them, abuse them?"

"N-none," he whimpers.

Silas does a half turn, making sure to show Timothy what he's holding. It's a nasty looking meat hook. "Are you sure that's the answer you want to give me? The more you lie, the slower you'll bleed to ensure you don't die quickly."

"Fuck!" Timothy curses, spittle flying from his mouth, some of it drooling down his chin.

"What do you think, Hunter?" Silas turns to me. "Think he's telling the truth?"

Leaning back against the wall, I shove my hands into my pockets. "Only one way to find out. There's a pair of vise grips on that table. Bet he'd sing like a canary if they were clamped around one of his balls."

"Hmm." Silas turns back to the table, picking up said vise grips and flipping them over in his hands.

"You bastards!" Timothy yells, desperation and fear making his voice hoarse. "I don't know how many! I didn't fucking keep count!"

He's telling the truth, and while we already knew he had raped more women than Kendra and his attempt against Katie, his answer still has my blood boiling. The stiffness in Silas's shoulders confirms that he feels the same way.

"Hunter," he growls, his blazing eyes meeting mine over his shoulder. "You still want your shots, get them in now."

I don't need to be told twice. As I step away from the wall, I pull my hands from my pockets. Timothy's gaze drops down and he sees the brass knuckles I'm fisting. His eyes widen and panic sets in. Laughing, I slowly stalk toward him, enjoying the pathetic noises he makes as he wiggles against his bonds.

"Please, Hunter. I swear, man, I won't touch another woman for as long as I live."

I flash him my teeth. "You're right about that. You won't touch anyone again."

The first punch I throw lands in his gut. He falls slack, his arms pulled as taut as they can as his natural reaction is to huddle into a ball. With his head hanging forward, I deliver an uppercut. Blood spews from between his lips, slinging across the room, some of it landing on my shoes. My next strike, I aim for his kidneys. He grunts in pain, his body too weak to hold him up, so his arms bear his full weight.

As I take in Timothy's pathetic form, I'm not nearly satisfied, but I leave the rest to Silas.

I take a step back, my eyes turning to Silas. "He's all yours," I grunt.

Anticipation flares in his eyes seconds before he plunges a knife into one of Timothy's thighs, making sure not to hit a vital artery.

For the next thirty minutes, I watch Silas work him over thoroughly, not feeling a smidgen of remorse for the man slowly being tortured to death. It's people like Timothy the world needs to be rid of. If it were up to me, I'd kill every single one, starting with Whisper, then moving on to Henry, Terry, and Howard. Rotting in prison isn't good enough for the two bastards who are still there. If they're alive, then they have a chance of being put back into society, just like Henry, and that shit doesn't work for me.

A knock comes at the door I'm leaning against. Timothy has long since become quiet, only occasionally letting out whimpers of pain. Upon hearing the knock, Silas pauses in his pursuit of removing Timothy's other ear and glances over at me.

"Continue. I'll find out what they want," I tell him.

Giving me a chin lift, he goes back to work, and I turn to the door. The basement is strictly forbidden to most of the staff. In order to even open the door, you need a code, so there's only so many options for who's on the other side.

When I open the door, a grim-faced Kurt stares back at me. I step out and close it behind me.

"Got a problem, boss."

"What is it?" I ask.

"Katie sent me down here to tell you that Presley is here. No clue who that is, but from the look on her face, I take it she's not supposed to be here."

"Shit," I mutter, my gut pulling tight. Of all the times for Presley to make an appearance, right now couldn't have been a worse one. "Tell her I'm on my way. And do not let her out of my office or let anyone in. If you see Cat, don't ask questions. I'll explain later."

Kurt has never met Presley before, and he's only met Scarlett once. It was the night she appeared at Slate, dressed in a revealing outfit Cat would never wear. Kurt was understandably confused by the changes in my wife. I had already noticed her and was making my way to her when Kurt found me. Because I trust Kurt implicitly, the next day I told him about Cat's personality condition. There was no need to tell him about Presley and Athena because I never thought either of them would show up here. Athena only comes out at The Grove and Presley only appears at the house.

Kurt walks away to do my bidding, and I return to the room. There's so much blood on the floor beneath Timothy, he looks only a few drops away from bleeding out completely.

"Presley's here," I state and Silas whips his head around, his shocked gaze meeting mine. "You finish up here. I'm going to my wife."

"Go," he demands.

Without another word or a spared glance at Timothy, I leave the room. The whole trek up to the second floor, my nerves are shot. Why is Presley showing up now? What brought her forward? She usually only appears when Cat's emotions are heightened and she needs a reprieve from her dark thoughts or reminders of her past. There's a part of me that isn't surprised though. None of Cat's other personalities have emerged since the night she found out about them. I expected maybe Scarlett would appear, possibly even Athena, but not innocent Presley. Slate is not a place she should ever be. My only consolation is that she's in my office with Katie.

The door is closed when I approach my office. Kurt stands guard outside, like he knows my whole life lies behind that door and he's determined to protect it without being told.

"Thanks, Kurt. You can head back downstairs."

After he leaves, I grip the knob and push the door open. Katie sits on the edge of the leather couch against the wall, her body stiff, but her expression composed. She's doing an excellent job of not showing the concern I know she must be feeling.

My eyes dart across the room to my desk. Presley sits in my chair, spinning it in circles. When she makes it back around and her eyes land on me, her lips break out into a beautiful smile.

It's incredibly difficult to keep my body under control when I'm around Presley. She's Cat in looks, and I've never had a problem getting hard even thinking about my wife. Although Presley looks like Cat, her mannerisms are those of a twelve-year-old girl. It seems wrong and sours my stomach to envision getting turned on when Presley takes over.

It's weird to see her like this. Presley is usually dressed as any twelve year old girl would, but right now, she's wearing what Cat put on this morning; a pair of black leggings that mold to her curves and an off-the-shoulder lavender top that shows a glimpse of cleavage that no young girl would have.

"Hunter!" Presley yells, getting up from the chair and skipping her way around my desk.

"Katie," I call. "Thank you for keeping Presley company while I was away. Silas won't be long, and I'm sure he would love to see you in his office when he gets there."

"Yeah." Katie gets up from her seat and walks over to me, giving my arm a squeeze. She looks at Presley, her lips pulled up into a smile. "It was a pleasure seeing you again, Presley."

"You too, Katie." Presley beams a brilliant smile at Katie.

I wait until the door clicks closed behind me before I face Presley. "What are you doing here, Presley?"

Some of the joy fades from her face. "You're not happy to see me?"

Despite my strung nerves, I relax my features and soften my voice. "I'm always happy to see you. I just never expected you to show up here."

"Oh." Her eyes light up again and she bounces on her toes. "I wanted to surprise you. Did it work?"

I grab her hand and lead her over to the couch. I keep a few inches of space between us as we sit.

"You did. But this isn't a place for young girls."

Presley's bottom lip sticks out in a cute pout. "I'm not a little girl. I'll be thirteen soon."

She's been saying she'll be thirteen for years. Presley never ages.

"Regardless, this isn't the place for you," I say, keeping my tone gentle.

"Can you take me downstairs?"

"Absolutely not." My gentle tone falls to the wayside.

She laughs. "You really are no fun."

"Regardless, you will not be going downstairs." I pause. "Why are you here, Presley?"

"I wanted to see you. You weren't at home, and I didn't know how long you would be." She lifts her shirt, revealing her trim stomach, and pulls out a single piece of paper tucked into the waistband of her leggings. I recognize the stationary as the same as I keep on my desk. She must have written it before I made it upstairs. "And anyway, you need to give this to Cat. It's super important that she gets it." She thrusts the paper at me.

I grab it and briefly look down at the writing. "Why is it so important that Cat gets this?"

Presley lifts her shoulder, causing the shirt to slide down her arm even further. It takes effort to keep my eyes on her face and not dip to the amount of cleavage that's now on display.

"Because it's time," she says cryptically.

My eyes narrow. "Time for what?"

An unusual somberness fills Presley's eyes and it has my gut twisting. "Time for her to remember them. They can't stay in the shadows anymore. They need to be brought into the light again."

Anxiety has my back straightening. There is nothing I would like more than for Cat to acknowledge our children. To remember the good times we shared with them. To fill our walls with their pictures. But the fear of what it could do to Cat if she remembered, damn near brings me to my knees.

"Presley—"

I cut myself off when Presley's eyes become dazed, the muscles in her face going slack. It only lasts for a moment before she blinks and awareness returns. They move to me and her brows dip.

"Hunter?" Just from her voice, I know Presley is gone and my Cat is back. "You're finished already?"

Rather than answering, I pull her into my arms, needing her close to me. She doesn't hesitate when her arms wrap around my waist. Behind her back, I shove the piece of paper between the cushions of the couch.

Since finding out the truth about Presley, Scarlett, and Athena, Cat hasn't pressed for the reason why she is the way she is. In the back of her mind, she knows, but her subconscious is still protecting her. I haven't forced the issue because I'm not ready to face what the truth will do to her.

One day I will be, but not yet.