I snapped back to reality and looked down at myself.
Filth and dried blood caked every inch of my body. My exposed neck and collarbones were covered in bite marks—dark, ugly bruises where teeth had broken skin.
I yanked the warehouse door open, desperate to retreat inside, but a hand shot out from nowhere and dragged me into the center of the crowd.
"Mrs. Delgado! Care to explain why you're here in such a... disheveled state? Were you having an affair?"
"Mrs. Delgado! How do you think your devoted husband will feel about this?"
"Mrs. Delgado—if you don't mind us asking—who's the man you've been sleeping with? From the looks of it, you two had quite the wild night..."
Raucous laughter erupted from the crowd.
Then came the insults, crashing over me like waves.
"Shameless!"
"Slut!"
"Whore!"
A heavyset female reporter hurled her camera aside and charged at me. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head against the wall.
Once. Twice. Again.
I slid down the rough brick, my vision swimming. Then the kicks came—too many to count, from every direction.
This is how I die, I thought. Right here. Today.
But then a familiar roar cut through the chaos.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?! Get out of here—NOW!"
Howard appeared like clockwork, parting the crowd like some avenging hero swooping in to save me.
What a devoted husband.
He scooped me into his arms and carried me to the car, murmuring apologies against my hair the entire way. After what that man had put me through all night, I couldn't fight the exhaustion. My eyes drifted shut.
Somewhere between sleep and waking, voices filtered through.
"Howard, I thought last time was supposed to be the last time. Why'd you have me call those reporters again? Those photos are gonna be all over the internet within the hour. How's she supposed to live after this...?"
"Enough."
Howard pulled my coat higher over my shoulders, his voice rough.
"I don't want to do this either. But Yvette's upset about being tied up during the kidnapping. I couldn't marry her eight years ago—the least I can do is consider her feelings now."
"But what does her being upset have to do with Mia...?"
"Evan. Do this one last thing for me, and I swear I'll never hurt Mia again."
"What is it?"
"Go to the hospital. Pull Wilfred's plug."
"Are you insane?! Wilfred is the only family she has left! He's in that coma because he saved your life—why would you—"
"Yvette promised. This is the last time."
A pause. Then Howard's voice again, soft as poison:
"Wilfred's been lying there for years. He's no different from a corpse. Let his death buy Mia peace for the rest of her life."
I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper.
Howard Delgado wasn't human. He was a monster wearing skin.
Minutes later, a phone shattered the silence.
Evan answered through the car's speaker system. A man's panicked voice crackled through:
"Howard! One of my guys just reported in—Old Mr. Gilbert's private jet is moving!"
"What?!"
Howard's composure cracked. His voice dropped to a snarl.
"That's impossible!"
His violent jolt startled me "awake."
Instantly, he shot Evan a look. The call went dead.
"You're up?"
Howard's hand was gentle as he brushed a strand of hair from my face. But his eyes were searching. Calculating.
"Mia... I remember your father had a private jet registered under his name before he passed." His tone was casual. Almost tender. "I'd like to use it."
