Page 124 of Lawless

I know exactly why. I feel it, too.

She might feel a little broken right now, hell, she has every right to, but her fire is still there. It lights up a little extra hope inside me that she’s going to be okay. That she’s going to get through this.

As slowly and as gently as I possibly can, I peel the fabric up her body.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen her naked, and it’s not the first time she’s taken my breath away, but this time, it’s for an entirely different reason.

The bruising I saw littering her skin yesterday has darkened. They cover her shoulders, upper arms, ribs, hips, and thighs.

I stare at each one, some more than obviously finger marks, with poison spilling through my veins.

“Please, don’t hate me,” she whispers, curling in on herself in an attempt to hide.

“W-what?” I stutter unable to comprehend why she’d even say that.

“Their handprints, they’ll fade and—”

Dropping the shirt to the floor, I take her face in my hands again.

If I thought it would be the right thing to do, I’d kiss her.

Hell, I’d do anything to show that she’s still the same woman who snuck out of my house with Mav with so much passion and determination for taking those motherfuckers down. This is only a blip.

We all have to believe that.

“You don’t owe me any kind of explanation, Pet. What I can see only makes me hate them more, not you.”

Her breath catches as she continues to hold my eyes.

“You’re a survivor, Alana. A fighter. Your strength is incredible.”

She shakes her head, or at least tries to. “No, I’m not—”

“You are,” I cut her off fiercely. “I might not know what happened with them, but I do know that you’ll have fought as hard as you could. And you’d have done it for Mav, not for yourself. You’d have done it for JD too.”

I don’t mention myself, because I think we both know that she has every reason to hate me.

Her eyelids lower, refusing to accept my words.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Pet. You’re one of a kind.”

The smallest of smiles twitches at her lips, sending a tsunami of relief rushing through me.

She’s going to get through this.

“Come on,” I say softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

I lift her from the counter as gently as I can. I don’t want to cause her any more pain than she’s already in, nor do I want to add to the bruises.

I might have had thoughts about leaving marks on her, hell, the bars through her nipples are proof enough that I want her to remember that she’s been at my mercy.

But not like this.

Lowering her feet to the floor in front of the sink, I reach for one of the new toothbrushes and load it up with toothpaste, all the while keeping my arms around her to help hold her up.

“I can stand,” she argues.

“I know,” I agree without moving an inch.