AMY’S POV
Everything after that was a blur of fragmented memories and disjointed sensory details, like a thick, suffocating fog that just wouldn't clear.
I remembered the sound of Greg crying out in pain, followed by a wet, sickening crack of bone against concrete.
I remembered a low, lethal voice muttering something I couldn't understand, then the sound of heavy fists hitting flesh over and over again, and then the sensation of being lifted.
My head lashed against a broad shoulder that smelled of wool, cedar, and the crisp winter night air. I remembered the cold leather of a car seat, the hum of an engine vibrating through my bones, and the rhythmic, quiet click of a turn signal in the dark.
Then came the heat.
It started as a low, pulsing warmth in my lower stomach, but by the ti
