Prologue

Shelby

I woke up as I died— again— chest heaving, pulse racing, gasping for breath.

My surroundings were slow to come into focus as my panic spiraled out of control. It hadn't been like that when I'd slipped into a dazed nothingness after the bellows of rage and explosions of pain faded under my body's inability to fight the chemicals and trauma that were heaped upon it.

No, this was the result of the realization that I was still in the land of the living, trapped in a broken form of marred flesh and shattered bones. The reversal of the abuse I'd endured was in a slow-motion rewind.

The bruises got lighter each day, the scabs itching and flaking, while each breath just barely didn't feel as agonizing as the one before.

Maybe .

The jury was still out on that one.

The need to blunt the pain, physically and mentally, had my fingers blindly searching for the button to the morphine pump.

I knew it was within easy reach, clipped to the bed rail so I didn’t have to move more than necessary. Approaching footsteps made me hesitate to send myself back into a floating reality despite the sharp, nagging pain from my ribs demanding relief.

Lucidity was a state I rarely dwelled in anymore, but that didn’t stop the loneliness that crept in with the absence of Dirk plaguing me. I’d even begun to look forward to the brief visits from my caretakers, and that was what stayed my hand then.

As Carter came through the door, I quickly changed my mind about company, wishing he’d just stay the fuck away from me. His excuses didn’t faze the resentment I felt toward him. He wasn’t fully to blame for my situation, I’d accepted my part in creating my own hell, but his participation… I pushed the thoughts from my mind before I spiraled into the depths of memories where I’d inevitably be caught until I could claw my way back to the present. It was a good thing too, as Rafe came in a few steps behind my shitty bodyguard, surprising me with his presence. The last time I’d seen him had been mortifying enough. Having him witness a panic attack while I was trapped as an invalid in a hospital bed wasn’t on my list of priorities.

Ignoring Carter, I awkwardly greeted the only person that had been decent to me in that house of horrors. “Rafe, I didn’t expect to see you here. How have you been?” My voice was husky, almost gravelly, something I hoped that would improve when my throat finished healing. Apparently, Carter hadn’t prepared my brother-in-law for the condition I was in.

He took several moments, seemingly cataloging what he could see, before he answered. “I’d have been better if my brother wasn’t dead and my father’s interest wasn’t squarely on me, thanks to you.” Realizing I’d mistaken his perusal of me for concern, I tensed and jolted in shock at the disdain in his voice, gasping from the resultant pain in my chest. Without a shred of sympathy for me, he nailed me to the wall. “At least I see why you’ve been sequestered off the property and out of the public eye. It wouldn’t do to have a victim of a house fire with a distinct lack of burns. Tell me, Shelby, what the fuck did you and my brother get up to to get him killed?”

“It wasn’t my fault,” I stuttered out between gasping breaths. I’m going to hyperventilate right here in front of them both. Should have used the pain meds and skipped the visit. Dumbass. The castigation was all mine, a stark reminder that I actually missed the snarky voice of my conscience or whatever mental illness I’d been passed from Mama . Anxiety continued to assault me, as much as Rafe’s accusing stare. The agony of trying to make my lungs work inside their broken cage distracted me from Carter moving to stand by my side. He was just suddenly there, in my space, his stance plain enough to determine that he intended to intervene on my behalf—except his assistance wasn’t welcome. It only made matters worse; I didn’t want him anywhere near me.

Rafe noticed, not that he seemed to care. He ignored my panic attack and my struggles to control it, so he could have his say on the subject. “If I thought for one second that you didn’t have my father’s blessing, if not his command, I’d see you put down.” With my attention split between the looming men and my malfunctioning body, it took a moment to get that he wasn’t talking to me. “You were part of the family, as fucked up as it was, and despite the animosity and rivalry between you and my brother, I never thought you’d go so far.”

Carter, for his part, remained stoic in the face of Rafe’s anger. As for me, I wasn’t interested in being another Hamilton’s punching bag, figuratively or not. I grabbed the other button clipped to the bed rail, the one that let my caretakers know that I needed help. Thank goodness they were as quick as ever to respond.

Blake came straight for me, edging Carter out of the way, then stood between us, mostly blocking both men from my line of sight. The safety he offered helped to dispel the panic, but my wariness remained. Though it appeared to be the case, I wasn’t sure he’d follow through on going toe-to-toe with Carter and Rafe on my behalf—until Gavin further crowded the room and made it clear that was exactly what they were there to do.

“I told you both not to upset her. She’s still recovering,” Gavin snapped at the visitors, his defense on my behalf giving me enough courage to peer around Blake. Gavin didn’t quail under Carter’s reproachful glare, nor did he react to Rafe’s surprise as he glanced between him and my bodyguard.

“You’re aware—” Rafe started, only to be cut off by Gavin.

“I am, and this isn’t the time for it. Leave the girl be, Rafe. She’s suffered enough.” His tone brooked no argument, and Rafe didn’t give him any. I didn’t know what they were referring to, only that it most certainly was about me. Before I could decide if I even wanted to know, Rafe not-so-politely excused himself.

Straightening his suit jacket over the open collared shirt he wore, he gave a short nod, first to Gavin, and then pointedly leaned to make eye contact with me. “Remember you didn’t want to discuss this and instead let your guard dogs protect you from reality.”

“That’s enough, Rafe!” Carter admonished the youngest Hamilton, vibrant blue eyes narrowed as he jerked his hand toward the door, finger pointing for him to leave. With a huff, the once conspiratorial, affable man left, and in his wake, an uncomfortable silence reigned. “I’m sorry, Shelby. I knew he was angry, but…” He shook his head, unable, or unwilling, to voice an excuse for Rafe’s behavior.

“Always sorry, aren’t you, Carter?” My scathing, bitter reply only resulted in his shoulders slumping before he straightened them again. Without another word, he turned on his heel and followed Rafe, presumably running back to his master for his next orders.

“Shelby, I think you need to consider—” Whatever Gavin was going to say cut off as I blatantly jammed my thumb down on the button to the pain pump. While my sigh was full of relief, Gavin’s was full of frustration, punctuated by his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Later, please,” I mumbled when Blake started poking at me, checking my vitals and bandages. I didn’t know why they’d all worked, and continued to work, so hard toward my recovery, but if it had anything to do with Carter or his puppeteer, I wished they wouldn’t bother. Nursing my hurt feelings from Rafe’s treatment, and the misery from injuries still pounding at me underneath the morphine haze, I willed myself to sleep, hoping against hope that I wouldn’t wake again.