Chapter 3

Abby jumped awake, the memory of one of her first escape attempts fading as pain registered. Gordon was an asshole but he wasn't the worst by far. That crown went to a monster named Adrian.

Abby let out a long groan.

Everything hurt. Even her eyelids. What had that bastard done to her this time?

Abby didn't want to get up. She didn't want to move or even breathe, but she knew if she didn't get up, it would be worse for the others. She could take the pain. They couldn't.

Her chin quivered as she felt the baby in her belly kick. Just like with Caleb, she knew her baby was coming soon.

With Herculean effort, Abby opened her eyes. Then she closed them. Clearly her eyes weren't working correctly. The walls of her basement bedroom, if one could even call a rotting old mattress a bedroom, were concrete. She knew exactly how many cinder blocks were in the basement from the times she'd counted them out of sheer boredom while locked below. Sometimes Adrian purposefully didn't unlock her bedroom. He claimed it was to keep her from being underfoot during the day, but Abby knew better. It was just another sadistic way for him to control her.

Not only did it keep Abby from getting food or water, or from being able to use the bathroom, but it kept her away from the children. Adrian knew that was the worst punishment of all. More than the beatings, the rapes, and the starvation. Knowing that she was locked in that basement while he was upstairs doing God-knew-what to those poor kids.

Still didn't explain why the walls she'd just opened her eyes to were beige. Had he beaten her in the bedroom and left her for the others to find?

Knowing she needed to get up before that happened, Abby opened her eyes again. Sunlight was streaming in from a window, revealing a beautiful snow-covered tree. Birds were resting along the branches, chirping happily to each other. The sight was heavenly. It was such a contrast to the horrors that went on in this house.

Abby blinked. There were no bars on the windows.

That made no sense. There were bars on every window and locks on every door, and even the fridge, in this house. The only exception Abby knew of was the window in the basement, which was far too tall and far too small for her to escape through. As if Adrian knew she would spend hours upon hours a day staring at that window wishing it was just a little bit lower and a little bit bigger.

Sadistic bastard.

What gave any of them the right to treat her this way? She knew what he believed gave him that right. Abby had long ago stopped believing in a God that had allowed this to become her life.

Abby realized she was lying on her back with her face tipped slightly to the right on a pillow. This confused her further. She didn't have a pillow. Her mattress was all she was allowed. Not even a blanket in the winter. Some nights it got so cold she had to huddle up next to the furnace machine in an effort not to freeze to death.

Other nights she wondered if death would be better than the life she was living.

But no matter how often that thought came to mind, Abby could never leave the children. Lila was only months away from her coronation. Who knew what would happen after that. And Caleb? Her poor son would grow up and be taught to become a monster.

Though it hurt to shift, Abby rolled onto her right side. She needed to get out of this bed. She had to bite back a cry of agony as she brought her legs up.

It was due to the pain of moving that she didn't notice right away that her legs weren't chained. Once again, confusion washed over her. Her own father had been the one to put them on her and had handed the key to Gordon upon his purchase of her as a houseslave. Gordon had handed that key to John when he'd traded her five years later. Then Adrian received the key a little over a year later.

They were padded leather with a two-foot metal chain between them that clanked every time she walked. Sometimes, if she'd done something to displease Adrian, or just because he could, he would place a clip between her two chain-links to shorten it, making her have to shuffle to walk.

Abby didn't know if she should feel relieved or horrified that her ankle cuffs were missing. Why would Adrian remove them? Was it because he thought they would get in his way? Was he planning on putting other cuffs on her? More painful ones?

Though the cuffs irritated her skin, she was used to them. They weren't so tight that they cut her or marked her. She knew the exact right way to walk in them. If Adrian changed out her cuffs, she feared the type he would use. Perhaps the next pair would be metal, cutting her skin, or so tight she lost circulation in her feet?

Slowly, Abby got herself sitting up in bed. Her feet dangled from the tall mattress, nearly touching the carpeted floor. Abby knew every inch of Adrian's house. She was in charge of cleaning it, after all. Now that she was sitting up, she knew for a fact that she wasn't in Adrian's house.

Where was she then? Whose bedroom was this? Where was Cassie? What about Lila and Caleb? Had she gotten them from the nursery? What about Milly?

With great care, Abby rested her right hand on the nightstand. There was a single lamp upon it. She had to stop twice to catch her breath, a hand on her protruding belly, but finally made it to her feet. Her back screamed at her as she straightened.

Her toes dug into the plush carpeting. She nearly cried, though not from pain. It had been a long time since Abby had felt anything so soft.

The creaking of the door behind her had Abby spinning around. She flinched as her body protested against the quick movement and lost her balance.

Large hands were suddenly around her. Abby was brought upright, hard chest to baby bump, with a very warm, very masculine body.

Though startled, she took note of the man's features. He was tall, much taller than Adrian, with tanned skin. His long beard hung down to his chest and was a mixture of gray and black hairs. He was completely bald. But it was his eyes that held hers. They were brown with flecks of gold in them.

She knew those eyes. Abby must still be dreaming. That's why nothing made sense since she'd woken up—because she hadn't woken up yet.

Abby hated Adrian's eyes. The worst of her punishments came when he demanded she look into his eyes. They were so menacing, so hateful. Adrian's eyes had pure evil in them, even more so than the others' had. "Look at me! You stupid bitch, look at me!"

"Are you okay?"

Abby froze. She knew that voice too. It was deeper now and yet the same. She closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up. It was so much worse when her dreams were vivid to the point of believing.

"Red? Are you okay?"

Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

She must have said part of it out loud because a low chuckle met her ears. "You are awake, Red. Open your eyes. You're safe and you're in my arms where you belong."

Slowly Abby peeked through her eyelids. He was still there, the older, stronger version of the man she loved.

José smiled down at her—and suddenly everything came rushing back to her. Escaping, finding her key, getting the kids, the minivan, the gas station, then that young cop who called for backup, a familiar face aged, and finally José. He'd come.

She remembered his words at the vet clinic. You're mine. A girl. She was going to have a baby girl.

Panic suddenly filled her. Caleb! She'd found her son. Where was he? She'd finally had him back and she'd lost him!

"Easy," José soothed. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?" He looked down worriedly at her large belly. She also picked up on the expectation in his voice.

"Caleb," she gasped out. "Where's my baby?"

"He's in the living room with my mom." José gestured to the bed behind her. "Why don't you sit back down? I'll go get him and Tessa for you."

Relief washed over her at the mention of his mom. She trusted Mrs. Santiago. "The girls?"

"They were in the kitchen eating when I left to come check on you." He indicated to the bed again. "Please, Abs. Will you sit down?"

Abby finally nodded.

Rather than guiding her back, though, José swept her up into his arms and placed her on the bed. He rearranged the pillows so her back was supported and then lifted the covers up to her hips. "Are you warm enough? I can get you a sweater."

She was a bit on the chilly side. "Please."

As he went to his dresser, Abby took a moment to look around the now familiar bedroom. The posters of the Philadelphia Eagles and Pittsburgh Panthers were gone. Numerous picture frames of men in uniform had taken their place. The paint on the walls was beige now when it used to be a light yellow. The outline of the room was the same though. He had the same dresser across from the foot of the bed that he had back in high school. The bed was different. They used to curl up together on his small twin bed. Now he had a giant king.

Looking at José as he neared her with the sweater, she realized that was probably a smart decision on his part. He was taller than she remembered.

He'd changed out of the white dress shirt and black dress pants from the night before. The long sleeve black shirt he had on now gave nothing away to the secrets hidden beneath.

"You have tattoos."

José paused, his arms partly raised to put the sweater on over her head. "I do." Then he lowered the sweater. She raised each arm through the sleeve and sighed in the sudden warmth consuming her. It smelled like him, sandalwood and oranges.

When she realized he was staring down at her as she sniffed the sleeves of his sweater, Abby slowly lowered her hands.

He leaned forward, placing one hand on the headboard behind her. "Do I smell good, Red?"

She grinned up at him. "You still use the same body wash you always have. It's…familiar. Like smelling home."

"Fuck, Abs." His lips were nearly to hers when a knock sounded on the open door.

Abby turned her head, cheeks flaming. Mrs. Santiago stood in the doorway with Caleb. He was leaning against her shoulder with his thumb in his mouth. She was wearing a flowery scarf over her head, reminding Abby that José's last letter had stated she'd been diagnosed with cancer.

Mrs. Santiago came forward as José stepped back from the bed. "Oh, my precious girl. I'll never forgive myself for what happened to you."

"To me?" Abby questioned. "What about you? Mrs. Santiago, you beat cancer!"

"Louisa, dear," she corrected. She gently placed Caleb on the bed near Abby. What neither she nor José knew, though, was that Abby was a stranger to her own son. Caleb looked at her but didn't see his mother. Louisa took a seat at the foot of the bed. "José came to me a few days before you left with your parents. He begged me to talk to your parents and allow you to stay with us through the remainder of high school. I am so ashamed that I said no."

José reached a hand out to his mom's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly.

"Mrs. San—I mean, Louisa. There's no way that you could have known." She looked up at José. "Either of you. I won't have you blaming yourselves for what happened to me. If you feel the need to blame someone, blame my parents."

José's jaw tightened. "Your mom too?"

Abby nodded. "I told you, it was more than just my father." Back to Louisa, she said, "If you want my forgiveness, you have it, but, from my point of view, you never needed it."

Needing a distraction as Louisa wiped her eyes, Abby reached for her son. Caleb at least came to her without a fuss. He had her flaming red hair and matching green eyes. Thank God he looked nothing like his monster of a father.

"Hi," she cooed at him. "Good morning, my love. I'm your mommy." José and Louisa exchanged a look, picking up on her wording. To the adults in the room, she explained, "Caleb was taken from me when he was only days old. I haven't seen him since until yesterday."

Louisa's hand went to her mouth. "Oh, you poor baby. Both of you."

Abby looked up at José, fearing to hope. "Did you mean what you said last night? They're not yours biologically."

José didn't even hesitate, even though his mother was in the room with them. "You're mine, that makes them mine. No one's taking your children away from you, Abby. Not even me. But I'll help you raise them and love them." He reached over and boop'ed Caleb on the nose, who giggled and tried to grab for his finger. José gave it to him. "Teach this one how to wrestle and protect the ones he loves." José rested other hand over her pultruding belly. "I'm even looking forward to Disney princesses and tea parties with this one."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "You're going to be an amazing father, José." Her voice cracked as she confessed, "I always dreamed of having kids with you. Just…never thought it'd happen like this."

José took her face between his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. His touch was so gentle, like he was holding glass instead of her bruised cheeks. "I am honored to be their father, Red. They are a part of you, which means they're a part of me too, regardless of what DNA says." He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Do you mind?" He indicated to Caleb. "I need to get you something to eat and see where Tessa is. I don't want him in the way of her examining you."

"I'm here," Tessa said from the doorway. "Bland foods," she instructed José with a stern tone. "Broth, bread, crackers… Let's see how she handles that before we give her something more substantial." José saluted her, picked up Caleb, kissed Abby, and then left the room. Coming closer to the bed, Tessa smiled. "Good morning, Abby."

"Hi, Dr. Tessa. Good morning."

"Just Tessa." She placed a large black medical bag at the foot of the bed. "I wanted to let you know that you took five saline bags throughout the night. You were extremely dehydrated. I am switching your painkillers and antibiotics to pill form, both of which are safe to take with your pregnancy."

"Thank you. What about the girls?"

Tessa looked to Louisa and then back to Abby. "Do you want Louisa here for this? No offense," she added to the matriarch.

"No need." Louisa stood. "That son of mine will likely burn the toast in his haste to get back to you." She leaned down and kissed Abby's forehead. "It's so good to see you, dear. We'll catch up later." Then she too left, closing the door on her way out.

Tessa took the spot on the bed where Louisa had been sitting. "Cassie won't let me do an internal exam, but she was raped, wasn't she?"

Abby's chin quivered, shame washing over her. "Yes. I couldn't… I tried to keep his attention on me, but he still… I couldn't stop it."

Tessa reached for her hand. "There's no doubt in my mind that you would have stopped what happened to Cassie if you could. It's horrible what he did to both of you. But I do need to examine her. We can do it here, if she's more comfortable with you around. Whatever the two of you want to do."

Abby nodded, saddened by what needed to happen. "I'll try to talk to her."

"I took your blood while you were asleep last night. Bulldog okayed it, but I didn't want to keep that I had done so from you."

Abby didn't have a problem with it and appreciated Tessa being upfront about it. "That's fine. I trust José to make those calls. For me and my kids," she added, a hand over her distended belly. If something happened to her, she wanted it known that José would be the one to take guardianship of her children. "Why did you need my blood?"

"Given your situation, I thought it prudent to test you for sexually transmitted diseases."

Abby flinched. She hadn't even thought about that. She hadn't been the only one Adrian had raped. Stiffly, she nodded. "Thank you."

"I need to get Cassie's blood too, but she wouldn't let me."

"I'll try to talk to her," Abby said again. She was practically a stranger to Cassie, but Cassie had trusted her this far. Hopefully she could get Cassie to trust her a little further.

"All of you are malnourished, except for Caleb."

Abby wasn't sure she was ready to explain that, as a boy, Caleb was allowed to eat when he was hungry, even at less than a year old. As girls, Lila and Abby, as well as the other wives and daughters, were kept on a strict rationed food schedule. Who knows what condition Cassie was kept in before she came to them, but it was likely the same.

Some days Abby was so hungry, she thought her baby was going to gnaw its way out of her womb. Even when pregnant, their rations didn't change.

Instead, she just said, "There wasn't much food to go around."

Tessa nodded sympathetically. "Let's get you examined so you're ready when Bulldog returns with your breakfast."

"Why do you call him ‘Bulldog'?"

Tessa shrugged. "Each of the club members has a road name. It seems really important to them, but I think it derives from their time in the military. From what I knew, that's where Bulldog got his name. You'll have to ask him if you want specifics, because I don't know." As she got out the blood pressure cuff, she added, "I do, however, have a list of all their legal names and which branch of the military they served in. Well, all but one. You're welcome to it."

Abby wasn't sure why she'd need such a list. She wouldn't be socializing with José's club friends often, would she?

* * *

Bulldog struggledto make it to the living room to tell the others that Tessa was going to give Abby an exam before having to bolt. He deposited Caleb into Jenna's unexpected arms. As soon as someone, he wasn't paying attention to who, acknowledged his statement, Bulldog rushed out the front door and into the cold morning air.

He felt like he could barely breathe. If it had been any other time of year than winter, he'd jump on his Glide and race towards…anywhere. Anywhere other than inside his own house where his traumatized woman now resided. God. The look of terror on her face when she'd first woken up… She could have stabbed Bulldog in the heart, and it wouldn't have hurt as bad as watching her flinch away from him in fear.

Her baby had been taken from her arms only days after his birth. She suspected he was around ten months old now. Christ. It was so inhumane.

It took all his self-control not to shout out to the universe for the injustice done to her. Not to mention those kids. How dare that man, that monster, that motherfucker who thought it was okay to marry a child, terrorize his beautiful, sweet, and once-fearless Abby.

Anger coursed through him, like a volcano had erupted in his gut. His entire body felt too hot, too tight. Without making the conscious decision to do so, Bulldog's fist lashed out and collided with the bark of a maple tree. He felt his knuckles crack and bleed, but it didn't make him feel better. His Abby had been suffering for sixteen years and he hadn't known it. He'd left her, moved on, and pushed her from his memory to make his life easier.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He knew immediately whose it was because the hand was on his shoulder instead of gripping it.

Bulldog dropped his arm. He leaned heavily up against the tree. Sadness washed over him as the reality of the situation inside his house came crashing down on him. It had been years since he'd cried, but damn if he didn't feel the need to now. His eyes remained dry though. "I want him dead, Jules. Whoever he is, he's going to pay for what he did to her. If you find him first, you bring him to me. Understand?"

The hand left his shoulder, but he knew Scar had heard him. There wasn't much that Scar missed. Though Bulldog hadn't told him a single thing about what had happened the night before, there was no doubt in his mind that Scar knew as much as they did. Hell, Bulldog wouldn't have put it past Scar to have been inside the house the whole time listening to them. Carlos and Bulldog had certainly bounced a lot of ideas off of the other in an effort to stay awake and perhaps solve the mystery of where Abby had been all this time as well as her connection to Mateo Castillo's organization.

By the time Bulldog pulled himself together, he was once more alone outside. Or, at the very least, he didn't see Scar. He took a deep breath to center himself and then headed back into the house. He had toast to make.

* * *

Bulldog went backto his room to find Abby standing upright, leaning heavily on Tessa, as the two of them walked slowly towards the door. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. He threw the plate of toast haphazardly onto the dresser before rushing in to sweep Abby off of her feet.

Tessa put her hands on her hips. "She's not an invalid, Bulldog. She can walk."

"The point is, she doesn't need to. Where are you two escape artists heading to?"

"Bathroom," Abby gasped out as Tessa rolled her eyes. He was pretty sure he heard her mutter something about him being just like Bear.

Bulldog hurried across the hall to their house's single bathroom. Thankfully, it wasn't in use. He really should have thought about adding three more toilet-using people to this house, plus the extras it would take to guard them. But where else could he have taken them?

Last April, Lucky had started, what some of the club members refer to as, the new club fad. The night the club had returned from Ohiopyle, Harper's brother Richard had thrown a Molotov cocktail through the living room window of Lucky's house—with Lucky, Harper, Scotty, Jenna, and Steel still inside. Thankfully, all five of them had made it out alive. The damage done to his house, however, had been devastating. Lucky and his family had lost everything, from his cage to the memorabilia he'd collected of his children over the years. As a result, Lucky had an overwhelming need to protect his family and had decided to move them onto club property.

The VDMC property was a former distillery laying on several unused acres. When they'd been forming the Via Daemonia six years ago, Steel and Jenna had been house shopping to move to Mount Grove with their preteen daughter and teenage son, Melanie and Jordan. Their oldest son, Carter, was already out of the house and in college. The distillery property had a house, but it was rundown and out of date. Steel had decided renovating the house was a good project for their new prospects to work on and a bonding experience for all the members. About a year after the club had been formed, the house was finally to Jenna's standards.

The former distillery showroom had become their clubhouse. It had many sectioned off little rooms that had been used for small private parties. Thankfully, each of those rooms had a kitchenette and a very tiny bathroom. Some of the rooms had needed upgrading, but most were useable right away. A big catch for the veterans looking to prospect was the fact that the club could house them, even if it wasn't their permanent home down the line. However, those rooms were so small that a queen bed took up most of the living space. One could stand on the end of the bed and pee into the kitchen sink—Bulldog would know. He'd done it a time or two to see if his club brothers were lying.

The clubhouse's studio apartments were not conducive for raising children or big enough for two adults to live comfortably. Bear and Tessa could attest to that, as they'd had to cram into his after her house had been broken into last August.

Needing a place for his fiancée, son, and himself to live, Lucky had approached Steel with an idea. The land surrounding Steel's house was plotted for additional housing by the previous owner. However, the man had died before he'd built them and his family had sold the property rather than follow through with the man's plans. Lucky asked to purchase the plot directly next to Steel's and put a large modular home there for his family to live in.

Lucky and Harper had barely moved in fully when Bear announced he'd knocked up his one-night stand, Dr. Tessa Fisher (now Collins), and would also be putting a modular house next to Lucky's. At that same time, Bree came into Angel's life. Angel used to live in the apartment over her tattoo studio and, even though she had a spare bedroom in the apartment, Bree was a paraplegic. There was no way to get Bree up the narrow staircase leading to the apartment without carrying her every time she wanted to go up and down the steps or doing major construction on the old historic building. As soon as Bear and Tessa's house was built, Cage's construction company had started working on the foundation for Angel's modular home.

Angel's house, unlike Bear's and Lucky's, was designed for a wheelchair user and only one story. The differences were most noticeable in the kitchen and the bathrooms.

That entire area, where the four houses now stood with an empty final and fifth plot, Tessa called "The Pentagon". Adding a fifth house would close off the communal backyard. Some of the club's single members had bets going as to which member would fall next and claim the plot.

Despite being single, Bulldog had been debating for a while about claiming the plot, even if he didn't build right away. His mom was getting older, and there was always the possibility that Carlos would meet someone and move out. Louisa loved the clubhouse, the family atmosphere, and the club kids, which had grown by two in the past six months and would soon be adding another baby.

Placing Abby down in front of the toilet, he kept her balanced so she could lift that disgusting fifties dress she was still wearing and sit. He stepped out of the bathroom and stood outside with Tessa to give Abby privacy. He should have followed his gut and claimed that plot. Even if no one had lived in the house or just the foundation was sitting there for a while, he would have had a place to put Abby and their babies sooner. Bulldog's mom's house was far too small for a family of four to move into with Louisa and Carlos.

Not to mention, Cassie and Lila. Bulldog didn't even know what was going to happen to them. He didn't know who they were, who their parents were, or anything.

He needed to claim that plot. Maybe he could convince his mom to move into the house with them and help with the babies. That would, by default, give Carlos this house to live in on his own. Bulldog was trying to remember the last time Carlos had texted him he had an overnight date elsewhere and not to wait up. Bulldog would back Carlos in telling their mom Carlos had picked up an extra shift at work as the reason her youngest son hadn't come home the night before. Carlos hadn't done that in months, though.

Bulldog pulled out his phone to text Steel, who was currently in his kitchen, and Cage, who was probably at work at his construction company, that Bulldog was claiming the fifth plot and would need a foundation built as soon as possible. Unfortunately, Bulldog wasn't even sure if Cage could start on the foundation with the ground frozen. It was February. Shit.

Feeling eyes on him, Bulldog picked up his head to see Tessa leaning against the hallway wall staring at him. "What?"

"You're claiming the last plot of the Pentagon, aren't you?"

He mock-glared at her. "Yes. Shut up."

She waved at him. "Hi, neighbor."

Bulldog rolled his eyes before asking the dreaded question. "So who won the bet?"

What the club referred to as ‘the ol' ladies club' consisted of Jenna, Tessa, and Harper. However, their circle of gossiping women also consisted of Angel, who was a patched member, Harper's mom Cindy, Lucky's daughter Sissy, Tessa's mother-in-law DeeDee, Harper's sister-in-law Paige, and Bulldog's own mother Louisa. When the nine ladies got together, there was no telling what they were going to get up to or talk about. The club had recently been informed that the women had a bet going about which club member would "fall next" and take the final plot of land in the Pentagon.

Since only his mom knew about his history with Abby, Bulldog wasn't sure which of the ladies would have thought him likely to fall in love and want the plot. His mom certainly wouldn't have gambled that Bulldog would take it.

Tessa grinned widely. "Louisa."

Bulldog's eyebrows rose and his jaw nearly hit the floor. His mom had what?

A noise from inside the bathroom kept him from responding though. "Abby?" He knocked. "Are you okay?"

A pitiful, "No," came through the door and Bulldog didn't even ask permission to enter.

He found her leaning awkwardly against the counter, her legs still spread over the toilet, and her dress caught around her hips. There were tears in her eyes as she looked up at him, her chin trembling. "I got stuck."

Bulldog tried not to laugh. He really did, but some noise must have escaped him because Tessa smacked him hard over the shoulder with an admonishment of, "Behave."

Tessa, being small and petite, was able to squeeze under Bulldog's arm and make her way to Abby. She helped right her dress and guide her forward a little. After closing the lid and flushing, Tessa guided Abby back down onto the closed toilet seat.

Abby was breathing heavily from that little bit of movement. "I miss the adrenaline I had last night when we escaped," she gasped out. "Wasn't short of breath then."

Bulldog knew her well enough to know she was trying to make a joke of the situation to keep him from worrying about her. She used to do the same thing when her parents would punish her for sinning by using a belt or a strap on her backside. It had been years of her fibbing that she'd fallen out of her bed and bruised her back or she'd walked backward into a corner of a table or she'd slipped on ice and landed hard on her back before Bulldog had discovered the real reason why sometimes it was painful for her to sit down. She'd had to physically sit on him and hold him back to keep him from leaving school and marching over to her parents' house to give them a piece of his mind.

His dad might have been a selfish asshole who'd abandoned his teenage sons with his sick wife, but he'd never raised a hand to any of them.

Tessa wasn't amused either. "Adrenaline might have given you the endurance to escape, but it doesn't change how weak you are, Abby. I'd like to get you back on an IV. I asked Bear to stop by Dr. Sharpe's this morning and borrow an IV stand so you're not bound to the bed?—"

It happened so fast that even Bulldog jumped. Abby suddenly let out a terrified scream. Her arms raised up as if she was protecting her head from being struck and her legs tried to raise up to protect her large belly. She turned her body away from Tessa, pressed back into the porcelain of the commode's water tank.

Bulldog's time in the Army hadn't been easy, but he'd been lucky compared to so many. He'd walked away, discharge papers in hand, with all of the body parts he'd been born with and his mind mostly intact. He'd had nightmares, but he'd never classify those as PTSD.

In the six years he'd known Jumper, he'd seen a lot of different post-traumatic stress reactions. Some that he hadn't even realized were actually real. Around seven months after the club had been formed, Jumper had walked into the clubhouse one morning. He hadn't said anything or greeted anyone. He walked right up to the bar and started making hand motions as if he was cutting something on a plate. No one had understood what was going on and he wasn't responding when they tried to talk to him. Thankfully, someone had had the foresight to call Dr. Collins, Jumper's therapist, to get an idea of what was going on. Jumper had been having a type of hallucination called a ‘waking dream'. Jumper was asleep, but he also wasn't. It's different than sleepwalking, though Bulldog still didn't fully understand how.

He'd also seen Jumper react to sounds or sights exactly as Abby had now. Something had triggered Abby. Like Jumper, her first instinct was self-preservation. Jumper tended to find bunker holes, places that would be safe in a firefight or an explosion. Abby moved to protect her weak points: her head and her baby.

Abby's reaction had startled Tessa so much, she too screamed. As Bulldog heard others come rushing down the hallway, he knew that the last thing Abby needed was an audience.

He quickly grabbed Tessa's arm and pulled her out of the bathroom. Bulldog met Steel's eyes and said shortly, "PTSD," before going back into the bathroom and shutting the door. Steel would know what Bulldog's clipped message would mean and would keep the others away. Most of the club had been involved in one or more of Jumper's reactions over the years.

Bulldog kept himself by the door. Abby was still on the toilet trying to make herself as small as possible. God, it hurt his heart.

He hated the use of the word broken. People saw Scar, thought him weird or creepy, and called him "broken". The same with Jumper and other veterans who returned home in a different condition than when they'd left. Different did not mean broken. His Abby had changed in the sixteen years since he'd last seen or spoken to her. He refused to consider that damn letter from Abby his last communication with her and preferred to think of their tearful goodbye standing outside her old house while her parents impatiently waited in their sedan for her to get in.

Abby was cradled against his chest. José wished he had the power and strength to never have to let her go. He wanted so badly to pick her up and run. He didn't know how he was going to survive the next couple of months until graduation without her. He hadn't known a day without her in over twelve years.

"I have to go." Her voice was muffled against his chest.

"No."

"José, I have to." Another honk of her father's rude horn. She lifted her head and he saw the tears he couldn't shed running down her cheeks. "I have to go."

He leaned down and claimed her lips. He could feel her trembling under him. He was trying to be strong for her and not let his true feelings show. At another honk, José pulled himself away from her. Abby wrapped her arms around her middle like she was trying to hold the pieces of herself together. What she didn't understand was that she was taking an extra piece with her—his heart.

Abby wasn't broken. She was traumatized certainly, but not broken.

Bulldog slid down the bathroom door until his butt hit the floor. Walking up to Abby or even touching her right now could make her reaction worse. Instead, he talked to her from his place on the floor as far away from her as he could get in the tiny bathroom. He talked about their future, possible baby names for their little girl, and just utter nonsense. He told her about his time restoring his grandfather's old 1965 Harley-Davidson Glide and how it felt the first time he'd taken a ride up the mountain. He promised her that he'd take her for as many rides as she wanted. He pulled up the modular home website for the company Bear, Angel, and Lucky had used to look at floorplans. He pointed out what he liked and didn't like about various styles. He even spoke out loud as he created an account for the website so he could save some of the floor plans he did like to show her later.

He didn't know how much time had passed. He wasn't watching the clock or caring. After a while, Abby uncurled herself from her awkward fetal position. She remained leaning back against the commode and just watched him. Bulldog continued talking and looking at his phone, knowing better than to approach or acknowledge her yet.

He just kept on talking—all the while trying to distract himself from the knowledge that Abby's reaction likely derived from Tessa's words bound to the bed.