Chapter 2

Maggie was gone.

It was true.

Even though I'd seen Ivan shoot her in the head, it hadn't been real until the moment I'd watched people putting roses on the gleaming silver coffin.

Pink roses.

They'd apparently been her favorite.

It was something I never would have known about her because something as beautiful as roses hadn't lived in my world or in Maggie's after she'd been taken. Nothing at all had been beautiful in that world.

There had been pain.

Darkness.

Loneliness.

Helplessness.

Fear.

So much fucking fear.

But not beauty.

At best, there'd been moments of peace, but they'd been few and far between, and the things one had to go through to get that peace hadn't been beautiful in any kind of way. I'd been more fortunate than most since, as Ivan's personal pet, I hadn't had to deal with strange men paying for the pleasure of sticking their dicks inside of me. Ivan's girls hadn't been as lucky. They'd been sold to the highest bidder, whether it was for an hour or a night or even a lifetime. I'd watched their spirits break day by day as they waited for help that would never come. I'd heard them beg and plead for mercy from their rooms that contained nothing more than dingy mattresses, a sink, and a toilet.

There'd definitely never been any pretty pink roses in those rooms.

The only time the girls were given access to a shower was whenever they had a "date." That was what the men who'd handled the day-to-day business called it. Those were the times when the nice clothes would be pulled out, an array of makeup and gaudy fake costume jewelry put on the vanity, and an old, dispassionate woman would arrive who was responsible for getting her charges to look date-worthy.

I'd been in charge of taking care of the girls who'd had rough dates. That's what Ivan had called them.

Rough.

Rough hadn't even begun to describe the brutality each and every one of Ivan's women had been forced to endure.

I knew what rough was. I'd known it from the moment I'd been exchanged for what had looked like a bag of white crystals when I'd been eight years old. I'd known rough and so much more.

So much fucking more.

A violent tremor racked my body. The sensation was enough to remind me where I was and what I was supposed to be doing.

My hands were on autopilot as I pulled my clothes off. I wasn't worried about the guy, Dalton, seeing me naked. That was the least of my problems right now.

My whole body ached as I removed the soaking-wet clothes. Ivan's punishment had been more severe than I'd been expecting. Unfortunately, by the time his men had caught up to me after I'd gotten Willa to Jace, Ivan had been in a rage unlike any I'd ever seen before. I'd known he wouldn't kill me; I was too valuable to him for that. I'd hoped once we were alone that his mind would once again be malleable and I'd be able to talk him down, but I hadn't even gotten the chance to get any words out past the title I'd been calling him from the moment he'd taken my small hand in his large one and led me to the pretty black car that had looked so out of place in the neighborhood lined with garbage bags, motionless bodies stuffed into sleeping bags or huddled beneath makeshift cardboard shelters, and women on their knees in front of men doing something to them that I hadn't understood at the time.

Vater.

That was what Ivan had wanted me to call him. It had taken me a while to learn what the German word meant.

Father.

When I'd first gone to live with Ivan, I'd known he wasn't my father, but I'd only made the mistake of telling him so one time. After that, he'd been Vater, no matter what the circumstances were.

Unlike his single title that I'd had to use, he'd had a lot of names that he'd liked to call me, especially when his big body was covering mine…

I shook my head to free myself of the image. The past was the past. I didn't need a plan for that. I needed one for now.

I glanced at Dalton through the window. He was only a few feet from the vehicle, but he had his back to me. It didn't matter because I remembered what he'd looked like when I'd literally run into him at Maggie's funeral. His black hair had shone so brightly it had almost looked blue.

And then there were his eyes.

Emerald.

Or maybe a deeper color, like forest.

I wasn't really sure exactly what shade of green they'd been because I'd had only seconds to take in as much of him as I could.

Square jaw, neatly trimmed beard, full unsmiling lips, and big hands.

Gentle ones.

He'd grabbed my biceps before I'd actually slammed into him, but his hold had been soft and entirely escapable. I'd automatically looked up, prepared to order him to release me, but the words had gotten stuck in my throat as I'd taken in his pained expression.

Lots of pain.

Dalton had tried to hide his physical distress behind those captivating eyes of his, but his body hadn't been as cooperative as he probably would have liked. Even now as I watched him standing outside the SUV, I could see the curve in his spine, like one of his shoulders was lower than the other. He was attempting to alleviate whatever pain he was feeling by shifting his weight from one leg to another.

I forced myself to ignore the man's stance and quickly pulled on the dry clothes. I couldn't help but inhale the woodsy scent that clung to the soft fabric.

Get it together, Silver.

The sharp voice in my head had me reaching for the door handle. As soon as I opened the door, Dalton quickly turned and there was no hiding what it had cost him because his entire body appeared to lock up as if he were frozen in time. He took several deep breaths before covering his condition by reaching for the wet clothes in my hand.

"I'll put these in the back," he murmured and then he was moving toward the rear of the vehicle. If he was trying to hide the limp plaguing his right leg, he failed miserably. He put the clothes in the back and then made his way to the front of the SUV on the driver's side of the vehicle.

He didn't order me to get in the car or even invite me in. He simply settled himself into the driver's seat and waited.

It was my choice to get in or not.

Mychoice.

I wasn't used to choosing things because I hadn't ever been given that right.

"Things are different now," I softly murmured to myself.

I went to the front passenger seat and opened the door. My body protested every move as I climbed into the huge SUV. Once I was settled, Dalton put the car in gear but didn't move it. I turned to see that he was watching me.

No, not watching… studying.

It sent a chill down my spine because there was something in his gaze that made butterflies dance in my stomach even as my brain warned me to get ready to run.

"Seat belt," Dalton said as his big hand reached for me. I automatically jerked away and slammed my body into the door, causing blinding pain to shoot up the entire side of my body. My instinct to survive kicked in as I reached for the door handle but then Dalton's singular word registered.

Seat belt.

His hand stopped just above the console he'd been reaching for, not me. "This button controls the seat's heater and this one controls the temperature on your side," Dalton said, his voice devoid of any kind of emotion. Thankfully, the man hadn't seemed to care about my little freak-out moment when he'd reached for me… or rather for the array of dials and switches between us.

An awkward silence filled the car as Dalton waited. His eyes were looking straight ahead. I fumbled to get the seat belt on. I wanted to laugh out loud because I'd seen people put seat belts on thousands of times, but I'd never worn one myself. Ivan hadn't cared enough about his "pet" to teach him how to buckle up.

Tears stung the backs of my eyes as I tugged on the strange material. Jesus, how was I going to survive on my own if I couldn't do something as simple as put on a seat belt?

"Here," I heard Dalton say and then suddenly he was practically pressed to my chest as he reached for the seat belt. The yummy, woodsy smell washed over me, stealing my senses for a moment. His cheek was only inches from my lips.

Which meant his mouth was right there. If he turned his head just a little…

"It sticks sometimes," Dalton murmured as he eased the seat belt across my body and pressed the buckle into the receiver by my hip.

"No, it doesn't," I said quietly as something in his tone caught my attention. It was enough to get Dalton to pause. His face was still just inches from mine, but I couldn't read his expression.

I wasn't sure why I'd called him out on the lie. He'd only been trying to spare me the embarrassment.

You know why.

My inner voice was a harsh reminder of both the past and the present. People lied. They lied to me. All the time. They used me to get what they wanted. Maggie had been one of the few exceptions and now she was dead. I didn't want or need Dalton to be another exception.

Who's lying now?

"Fuck," I whispered under my breath, hoping like hell the man nearly pressed up against my side hadn't heard me.

A rush of sensation stole over my entire body in reaction to Dalton's proximity. Amazingly, I felt my groin tighten as blood rushed to my dick.

God, what was happening to me?

Dalton's eyes held mine for what seemed like a lifetime before he began to shift his body back into his own seat. Shame washed over me as Dalton struggled to get comfortable. His entire body was tight and there was sweat dotting his forehead.

He was hurting.

Because of me.

Because I didn't know how to put on a fucking seat belt.

My brain must have been on hiatus because it didn't stop me when I reached my hand out to cover Dalton's right one which he'd wrapped around the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles were bloodless.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I rubbed my fingers over his. He didn't react to my touch or words. I caressed his fisted hand for a few more seconds before pulling away. I was shocked when Dalton suddenly released the steering wheel and grabbed my hand. His head was pressed back against the headrest and his eyes were closed as he pulled in several deep breaths.

Despite the pain he was clearly in, his hand was gentle as he closed it around mine. I wanted to ask him what I could do for him to take his pain away, but I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I opened my hand and linked our fingers together. I rubbed my thumb back and forth over his skin.

I wasn't sure how long we sat there like that but when Dalton let out a long breath, released my hand, and got the car moving, I knew it was over.

Problem was, I had no clue what it was.