CHAPTER 15
CARMEN
It wasn’t until after a week after the shooting that Carmen had her first nightmare in the penthouse.
She shot up in bed, a scream lodged in her throat. It always started the same. This nightmare, in which Franco chased after her with a knife that clung to her subconscious like a dirty old coat, she couldn’t shake off. No matter what she did, it pulled her into the mud.
She woke up, bathed in a cold sweat.
I’m safe.
She repeated that a dozen times until it changed into all but a chant. She took in her new room, reminding herself she didn’t live under Franco’s roof anymore. So far, Vince had kept his promise—he hadn’t touched her with a single finger, not counting the spanking. Now Sy was a whole different story.
She found him on the couch in the rec room. It seemed
