Avery:
I woke up with fire in my blood.
Not panic. Not dread. Not fear.
Resolve.
Everything that happened yesterday—the scream, the weight of his body pinning me down, the scent of cheap cologne and something fouler—should’ve broken me.
But it didn’t.
Because I wasn’t weak.
Because I’d watched Cruz walk into that backroom like a demon summoned from hell and tear that man out of existence with just his hands.
I didn’t have to fight for myself.
Because Cruz had done it for me.
But today, I would.
Today, I would fight.
I peeled back the sheets, my body still sore in places. Ghosts of hands that no longer existed.
The silence in the room was soft. Safe. He’d tucked me into bed like I was made of porcelain. Washed me like he was trying to scrub the world off my skin.
Held me like
