The moment Emma stepped through my apartment door, the weight of the night came crashing down on her. Her head still throbbed, her body ached in places she didn’t want to think about, and the memory of Damien’s hands on her skin burned like a brand.
Renne was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
"Where have you been?" she demanded, as her eyes scanned Emma head to toe. “And what the hell are you wearing?”
She froze, her fingers tightening around her purse strap. "Renne... why are you here?"
She huffed. "Well, Ethan called. He was scared and you didn't pick up his call."
Relief washed over her so strongly her knees nearly buckled. Thank God. My baby hadn’t been alone. How could I let him stay by himself?
"Thanks, Renne," she murmured, dropping her bag onto
