28. Eva

It had taken everything I had to go to the cops that day. I knew it was a risk, with Brent working out of that particular station, but he was away for two days on some training course and it seemed like a heaven-sent opportunity to escape at last.

The officer I spoke to escorted me into an interview room and left me waiting for an hour. The whole time I was in there, it felt like I was being watched. In hindsight, I probably was. By Brent's buddies.

When the officer eventually returned, he had another cop with him, a big burly guy with a shaved head and cold eyes. The way he looked at me made my skin crawl. I knew instinctively these men weren't interested in hearing my story. It was a bad idea to come here and now I was in even greater trouble.

"Hello, Eva. I'm Officer Wheaton. So Officer Patrick here tells me you'd like to make a report of domestic violence against your guardian, is that correct?"

"Yes…er…no…" I couldn't breathe. Panic bore down on me like a runaway train. The two officers smiled at each other and then looked at me. The realization hit me that Brent was probably aware I was here, in the station where he worked. Why was I so stupid? Of course, he knew. He'd likely known the minute I walked through the door.

"You seem a little confused, Eva. Are you feeling OK?" Officer Patrick was all fake smile and menace. His white teeth gleamed in stark contrast to his mahogany skin.

"No, this is…a…mistake…I…I..." Cold sweat trickled down my back and bile curdled in my stomach. Was Brent already on his way? He hadn't told me where his training course was being held, only that he'd be away overnight. Was this a test? Had he done this deliberately to see if I'd try anything?

If so, I'd failed his test.

"Your guardian is on his way, Eva."

"But—"

"It's OK, Eva, your guardian is worried about you."

Officer Patrick passed me a cup of water. My hand trembled. I hadn't eaten for two days and I'd had nothing to drink since I left the house this morning. It had taken me hours to get here. With no money, walking had been my only option.

My mouth was drier than the Sahara, so I pushed my reservations aside and drank the water.

"I…I think maybe I should go now."

"It's OK, Eva, we're here to help. Now why don't you tell us why you're here? We'd like to help, wouldn't we, Manny?"

Officer Patrick turned to his buddy and laughed. Straight up laughed. I pushed away from the table. My instincts were screaming at me to leave this room. These men were evil. They looked like men, but they were something more. Something bad.

My legs shook. Nausea crept up my throat. There was something wrong. The room blurred and black spots floated in front of my eyes. Both officers watched with amusement as I stumbled like a newborn foal. The door was so close, yet a million miles away. If I could just make it to the door, I'd be out of here. Except the minute I tried reaching for the door, my legs went from under me and I fell on to the hard concrete floor.

It had to be the water. God, I was so dumb. Never trust a cop, Dad had always told me. He'd been right. These cops didn't care about me.

Nobody cared about me.

It was the last thought I had before it went dark.

"Brent likes to hurt people, specifically women," I said. My voice was calm, but inside I was a mess. Every word I forced out stuck in my throat like crushed glass. "I woke up strapped to a table in the basement. He kept me there for a week. Cutting and burning me because he liked it when I screamed. Each time I passed out, he threw a bucket of water over me. He said it was a punishment for leaving him and attempting to get him in trouble. And that I deserved everything I got because I was an ungrateful little bitch."

Brent's voice echoed in my head, telling me repeatedly how ungrateful I was. I could still feel the agonizing cuts and burns. Hear my screams ricocheting around the cement walls. Smell the disinfectant and coppery scent of my blood dripping all over the table. See the black mold clinging to the ceiling and the strip light boring into my eyes all day and night.

"His lesson in obedience worked. After that little episode, I didn't fight back again. He'd broken me and I was in too much pain to even think about escaping. Some cuts got infected, and I was so sick I was barely conscious after a few days. Eventually, I got so bad he took me to a doctor. Not an actual doctor, just some guy he knew who did work for cash. The doctor gave me a script for antibiotics and told Brent to feed me more."

That memory of that vile man's words made me seethe inwardly. He'd treated me like I was a dog. Less than a dog.

"Brent gave me more food after that, at least. Once the infection cleared up, life carried on."

Silas looked like he wanted to vomit, and Cole's face was paler than milk. Only Tanner remained expressionless, but his gold eyes burned with rage. Whether that was rage at my stupidity for getting involved with Brent or rage at Brent for being a fucking psychopathic monster was unclear.

"Well, now you know how I got so ugly. I could go on, but we'd be here for weeks." Ignoring the way my legs shook with adrenaline, I stood. We were done. They'd heard the worst of it. Hopefully, now they understood just how insane Brent was and they'd be on their guard in case he came looking for me.

I hoped he wouldn't, but given my shit luck, it was just a matter of time before he appeared like a fucking cockroach. At least once I left, the guys would be safe.

The fire crackled behind me and in the corner, the tree Silas and I had decorated twinkled. Outside, the snow fell heavy and thick. I could smell the spicy stew Cole had made, bubbling away in the kitchen, but I had no appetite. All I wanted to do was sleep.

My eyes burned as I turned to leave, but Cole reached out and took hold of my arm, careful not to squeeze too hard.

"Eva, trust me when I say the very last thing you are is ugly."

He was a sweet man, but I knew what I looked like. My scars were hideous. Brent had told me repeatedly, no man will want you. I believed him. Sure, my face was pretty enough, but my body?

No. Men liked women with smooth, unblemished skin. Not puckered, red skin marked with lines and raised lumps.

"It's OK, you don't need to make me feel better. I'll be gone soon, anyway."

Silas pulled me into his arms and the scent of him enveloped me like a warm cloud of pine and freshness. For a moment, I relaxed. He felt so good. So…right. But reality kicked me in the head like a bad-tempered mule and I tensed. Silas didn't need a woman like me. A broken mess of a woman who came with a side order of trouble so bad it could get you killed. He was much better off without me.

"Relax, sugar. You're not going anywhere. We got you. You're safe."

It seemed he saw things differently.