26. Eva

Steam billowed out of the shower while I stripped. I was about to pull my shorts off when I realized I'd left the clean towel on my bed, so I quickly headed back into the bedroom. As my hand touched the towel, the door swung open and Cole walked in.

"I forgot to give—" he began, a pile of clothes in his arms, then he looked at me. Really looked.

We both froze. Me because I stood wearing nothing but a pair of borrowed shorts with the waistband turned over three times, and him because he'd seen all my scars.

I flushed with embarrassment and shame, my arms crossed over my naked chest. No man other than Brent had ever seen me naked.

Before Brent, I'd been self-conscious, like most teenage girls were. Now, it was far more than shyness.

I hated the way I looked. Brent had ruined me. Ugly scars covered my torso, none of them accidental. Cigarette burns. The red, gnarled patch across my back where he threw boiling water over me in a rage, raised lines where he whipped me with a knotted strip of leather until I bled. Thin white lines from his knife. It was a long list.

Brent was a sadist. He enjoyed inflicting pain, and I was his masterpiece. A symphony of exquisite suffering. The louder I screamed, the more his eyes lit up with excitement. The mild-mannered, kind man who had materialized the day Dad died lasted about a year before the sadistic monster he hid came out to play.

The first time Brent hit me shocked me to the core. Like most victims of domestic abuse, I believed him when he said it was a mistake, a loss of control, and that it wouldn't happen again.

I ignored the red flags, the escalation, and the way he seemed to revel in my fear. Besides, where could I go? I had no family, no friends, nobody to take care of me, other than the devil who hid in plain sight.

In time, I'd learned to remain silent and slip away into the recesses of my mind when he attacked me. It didn't stop him from hurting me, but it blunted his enjoyment.

It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I shrank away, edging toward the bathroom, not wanting him to look at me like this. Clouds of steam curled around the door. If I could just get inside and shut the door, then maybe Cole would leave me alone. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing the disgust in his eyes, but to my surprise, when I finally found the courage to look up, he just looked sad. And also vengeful.

"Come here, Eva."

"Why?"

"Because I say so." The edge of command in his voice was new. Cole was always mild-mannered, kind, a natural nurturer. This version of him was a lot more dominant, and I liked it.

Despite my shame and embarrassment, I crossed the room toward him, still unable to look him in the eye. Surprisingly, it wasn't my nakedness that bothered me. It was the knowledge that if I got closer, he'd see even more of my scars.

"Look at me, Eva," he said, lifting my chin. "Tell me who left these marks on you."

I hesitated. Not because of any misplaced loyalty to Brent. No, I hated that man with every bone in my body. It was more that I didn't want Cole to go off on some misguided vendetta.

Pursuing Brent was dangerous. For all of us. Brent was cunning, and as a cop, he had a lot of contacts he could leverage. I knew from overhearing things when he had friends over to the house that he was involved in illegal shit. From the phone calls I'd listened to, he was on the payroll of some gang or other.

I wasn't sure exactly what he did for them, but if he could get away with stuff like that as a serving police officer, he would have no problems covering up more crimes.

Such as the murder of three guys who were not part of mainstream society. Sure, the guys were shifters and strong, but wolves were not bullet-proof. Brent had won awards for his marksmanship. I was under no illusions about how dangerous my former guardian was.

Nothing could take away my past. These scars were part of me now. All I could do was move on. Make a new life for myself. One where I didn't rely on anyone, least of all a man.

"It doesn't matter." I refused to look him in the eye.

"It does to me. Was it your guardian?"

I nodded.

Cole's jaw ticked with tension and he clenched his fist, sucking in air like it pained him to breathe. "Go get in the shower, sweetheart. Dinner will be ready in 30 minutes. I made venison stew."

"Oh…OK."

He closed his eyes for a second and then kissed me gently on the cheek. Then he left, closing the door on his way out.

I did as I was told and got in the shower, my mind buzzing. I'd expected him to say how sorry he was, how awful it must have been. The fact he'd asked me a couple of questions and then left was surprising, but I could deal with that kind of reaction. I would much rather we all ignored my scars and how I got them.

What happened to me before I arrived here was not something I liked to think about.

So far, I'd done a great job of pushing all the trauma into a locked box in my head. The more time that passed, the less I thought about Brent. He was always there, lurking in the back of my head, taunting me, but when I was busy with Cole and Silas, I could go for hours without a single thought of Brent.

It was liberating after years of Brent occupying the entirety of my headspace. Back then, every thought I had related to Brent. Was he in a good mood today? Would he let me eat? Sleep?

It was exhausting.

Iwas exhausted.

Being here, I didn't have to think about anything. Cole fed me. Silas made sure I never got bored or lonely. Tanner…he occupied way too many of my thoughts for comfort. He was a confusing enigma. He'd stayed out of my way since the incident where he lashed out. The bruises had faded, but the memories hadn't.

Hot water sluiced down my back as I thought about what had happened. His hand around my neck had been shocking, frightening even, but somewhere deep inside, it had also been exciting.

What kind of dysfunctional person was I if I enjoyed what he did to me?

I knew deep down Tanner didn't want to hurt me. He was hurting, and because he didn't know how to handle the difficult emotions, he lashed out.

The other two times we'd been alone, it was obvious he liked exerting control over me. I shouldn't have enjoyed it, but I did. There was something strangely intoxicating about handing over control to a man like Tanner. Instinctively, I recognized that letting him be in control was good for both of us. He needed it and so did I.

But there was no way he was touching me ever again. The two times we'd crossed paths since he got back from his three-day disappearance, he'd refused to even look at me. It was as if he'd decided it was easier to pretend I didn't exist.

Mealtimes, I ate with Cole and Silas, but Tanner ate in his office. I'd heard him moving around late at night, but I stayed in my room. I figured it was better for both of us. Besides, in a few weeks, I'd be gone.

No doubt he was looking forward to seeing the back of me for good.

I just wished I was as happy about the thought of leaving here.