Chapter 9

• Darren
• She lay curled on the floor, her red dress shredded, a tattered remnant of something once beautiful. Bruises bloomed across her arms, dark and angry against her pale skin, and she looked small, fragile, like a bird with broken wings. Moonlight spilled through the window, bathing her in a silver glow, her breath a soft, shallow rhythm in the stillness.
• My heart twisted, rage boiling up hot and thick. Lucas Lavoie. That bastard. How could he leave her like this? How could he touch her, hurt her, and walk away? My fists clenched, nails biting into my palms, but beneath the anger was something deeper - something raw and aching. She didn't deserve this. Not her.