With one final kick to the guts, which echoes off the cabin’s walls, Quinn lets out an animalistic yell and slowly turns to face me, his fists dripping in blood.
I wish I wasn’t so naked because as Quinn scans my body, his face contorts in pure pain. I know what I must look like, and I close my eye, his pain hurting me more than the physical abuse my body sustained.
He is across the room in seconds, dropping to both knees in front of me. The first thing that overwhelms me is his signature scent. Under the wrath and blood and fear, I can smell him.
I smell home.
Opening my good eye, I see him covering his face with his palms, his shoulders shuddering in rage. I want to comfort him but can’t because I’m still tied. So I sit and allow him to grieve because we will never be the same after
