Chapter 4

ChapterFour

BRYCE

Isla curls her slender arms around her waist. I watch in horror as my words cause her to physically shield herself. If I could drop-kick myself, I would because I’m a fucking asshole. I’ve shamed her, which is all Paul has ever done. People assume abusers only use violence on their victims, but it goes beyond that. Abusers break down every part of a person until there’s nothing left. It’s deconstruction. It doesn’t happen at once. It’s a slow, drawn-out campaign to strip all the layers until everything that makes them who they are is decimated.

I step toward her, and she shuffles back. She shakes, her bottom lip trembles, and a lonely tear glides down her face. She should lash out at me and run for the hills, but she stands there, vulnerable and exposed.

I’m at a loss about what to do. My piece of shit son has harmed her for the last year. Beyond all measures. She needs kindness, but I don’t understand what that word means to offer it to her. From a young age, I learned to be tough, aggressive, and even cruel to survive. Any gentleness was bred out of me a long time ago.

Isla is a rare being in a cruel world—a person who’s suffered but will continue to suffer for the comfort of another. It’s as if she can bear her bruises and abuse better than seeing another in pain. So she buries all the hurt and torment deep within herself to ease the sorrows of another.

What shocks me is that she’s doing it now. At this moment. For me. I don’t deserve her kindness when she should express every venomous thought about me.

I would have defended any woman in this situation. I’m a monster, but violence against a woman is a line I’ve crossed only once—with Julie, who was a child predator.

But when it comes to Isla, my instincts are far more nefarious. Honor and desire fuel me, and it frightens me to the core because, in all my forty-three years, I’ve never come across a woman as captivating as the one standing before me now. My eyes devour her, like simply looking at her can cure every disease ever inflicted upon me.

Isla’s gaze is a punch to the solar plexus. A wounded animal pleading for mercy from someone who could break her in the blink of an eye. I understand that kind of hurt. It slithers into your veins and festers. A constant reminder of your insignificance. A glaring statement of how others can grind you into dust, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

But even with the scars Isla wears on her flesh and soul, she still has a mesmerizing quality, making me believe she’s a damn warrior beneath it all. I need to figure out what to do about the sorrow behind her eyes and how she fiercely hugs her body. I’m sure it’s my son’s doing. It doesn’t take much to capture and beat a beautiful bird until it forgets how to spread its wings.

Usually, I wouldn’t care if someone self-deprecated. How others insult themselves has nothing to do with me. But when she called herself pathetic, I wanted to hunt Paul down and beat him until he never had the use of his hands again.

My hand shakes as it brushes her arm, causing her to wince as if I’ve hit her. I don’t like that she’s fearful of me, but I also can’t blame her. My son has been abusing her. She probably assumes the father will be no better than the son.

“I won’t hurt you, Isla. I’m not perfect, but I don’t deliberately hurt women.”

Isla raises her head, and her eyes find mine, blinking to combat the unshed tears. She straightens her shoulders, and I wait not so patiently for her to speak. The words that emerge from her mouth shock me yet put me at ease.

“Excuse me if I have a hard time believing you.” Her pretty eyes turn into slits, and her lips press into a straight line as the corners of my mouth turn up. “You think this is amusing?”

“You know you’re safe with me because I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t dare glare at my son this way or open your pretty little mouth to sass him.”

She shuffles back and folds into herself as I lead her further into the apartment. “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

Her plea is like a damn blunt knife scraping against my heart. Her soft voice reminds me of my mother’s as she begged for mercy.

Isla drops to the ground, tucking her body into a fetal position and covering her head as if expecting me to unleash my fists on her. I’m a dick. She doesn’t know me from a hole in the wall, and she’s only witnessed a fraction of the violence I’m accustomed to.

I crouch beside her and raise my hands slowly, palms facing out. “I’ll keep my hands to myself. But I’d appreciate it if you stayed for dinner and kept me company.”

“Paul won’t stand for this. He’s determined to get what he wants.” She takes a deep breath, tightening her arms around her waist. “One time, a guy looked at me at a restaurant, and he—” Her voice shakes, and her words are uttered in bursts as if she might hyperventilate before she finishes her sentence.

I place my hands gently on her shoulders, hoping to snap her out of fear. “Breathe, Isla. Breathe. I promise it will be okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.”

“You can’t be with me all the time. I’ll have to go home eventually. Back to him.”

“The hell you are. You’re not going anywhere.”

Her dark eyes round with visible fear. I drop my hands and step back so I don’t frighten her more than she already is. Having a six-foot-seven, three-hundred-and-thirty-pound man hovering over you has to be intimidating. If I could make myself tiny for her comfort, I would.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you a prisoner. You can leave. But you can’t go back to him.”

“I need my things,” she whispers.

“I’ll put your name on my credit cards. Anything you want, order it online.”

She jumps up and glares at me.” I’m not a hooker. I can’t be bought.” She drops her arms to her sides, and her small hands clench into fists. She’s adorable, a cute kitten trying to be a tiger. “I’m not going to jump from his bed to yours.”

We glare at each other. Stalemate.

I want to be the nice guy, but I also like the fire in her eyes. “Tiger, when you find yourself in my bed, it will be because you’re begging for it, not because I bought you some outfits. It might shock you, sweetheart, but I don’t need to buy women. I have no issues in that area.”

Her eyes glide down my body as if assessing my statement. I open my arms, allowing her to get a good look at my chest, the taunt of the large muscles rippling on my body. I’m not as young as her, but I’m not too shabby on the eyes. She visibly swallows before opening her mouth to speak and closing it just as quickly.

“I think maybe we should eat to keep that smart mouth busy.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’ll eat, Isla.”

“You’re just like Paul, telling me what to do.”

I stride toward her, an animal stalking his timid prey. I have to be careful because one wrong move and she’ll sprint out the door. My fingers brush her skin as I grip her chin gently, ensuring she sees the truth in my eyes, that I won’t harm her. “I’m nothing like him. I’m telling you to eat because I want to take care of you, not control you.”

Her eyes move from me to the corridor leading to the dining room. “I don’t know what to do.”

I grasp her hand and weave our fingers together. “I do. You just need to trust me.”