Page 71 of Commit

“Pete?”

“They worried that if they got caught in a roadside bomb and ended up in pieces, they’d mix them up.”

“You know these guys?”

I look at the second face. “Once upon a time. Kyle and Conner Evans. We served overseas together.”

I look at Kenzo as the pieces click together.

“This isn’t about me or Atlas.”

“I’m the target.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Starling

Iwake up with a jolt and realize I’m alone.

I look at the clock. Seven a.m. I jump out of bed and creep down to my room, my heart pounding in my chest. There’s a twisted kind of irony in doing the walk of shame from your marital bed. I guess that’s what it is now. Hudson’s already ordered me to stay in his room.

I slip inside without anyone seeing me and strip out of my clothes, leaving them like breadcrumbs as I walk into the bathroom. Climbing into the shower, I try to calm my racing heart back down to normal. I’m not sure that’s possible, given the chaos that is my life now.

As much as I want to hide in here for the rest of the day, I know I can’t.

Turning the shower off, I get out and dry myself, wrapping a towel around my body and grabbing one to dry my hair. Walking back into the bedroom, I head straight to the dresser, pulling out a white cotton bra and matching panties. Dropping my towel, I quickly pull them before heading over to the closet. Feeling cold despite the early morning sun, I slip into a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white Henley. I throw on a plaid shirt over the top and slide my feet into a pair of beat-up Vans, going for comfort over fashion. I pull my hair up into a ponytail and apply a little cover-up to hide the circles under my eyes, and that’s it. I don’t bother with anything else—I just don’t have the energy to care what anyone thinks today.

The fact that I’m up and dressed is a miracle in itself. I blow out a deep breath, and as I reach for the door handle, I spot the tattoo on my finger—the one I’d been trying to ignore.

My chest tightens, and my anxiety spikes as I imagine all the stares and gossip I’m bound to face. Shaking my head, I drop my hand and back away from the door.

I can’t do this.

A knock on the door has me jumping and looking up, frozen in place. I don’t answer it, too afraid to move or speak or breathe.

Another knock, and then Abbot’s voice calls out. “Starling?” I watch as the door opens, and my mouth suddenly goes dry. He stands there, smiling tentatively at me. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I whisper, like I didn’t have his cum inside me only yesterday.

He walks forward, and my stomach churns at the thought of him being too close. I remember the video footage Hudson showed me. If there are cameras in the room we shared, there are definitely cameras in here.

“Are you okay?”

I back up when he gets too close, vomit rushing up my throat. I run to the bathroom and drop to my knees, puking what little was in my stomach into the toilet bowl.

Abbot’s behind me a second later, rubbing my back. “Alright, I’ve got you.”

I throw up again, gasping and choking on the rancid taste of guilt and shame.

“I’m going to stay home today. I don’t feel good,” I tell him, making him chuckle.

“I think I got that, babe. Here, let me get you a washcloth.”

He rummages around in the cabinet before finding one. He soaks it in cold water and wrings it out before passing it to me.

Like a goddamned idiot, I reach for it, freezing when I hear him suck in a sharp breath.

He takes my hand and lifts it, taking in my tattoo. “I saw my dad this morning.”