Together, we walk into the small building. It’s a terraced house, sandwiched between a solicitor’s office and what looks like a recruitment business. It looks pleasant enough from the outside and as long as they help Briella, I couldn’t care less what the building looks like.
Still feeling edgy, I turn and peer over my shoulder, scanning the parking area, but I don’t see anything. The feeling from earlier has come back, stronger. I can feel it in my bones. Something is fucking off.
“You okay?” she asks, and I can hear the concern in her words.
Shaking myself, I nod. “Yeah, baby. I’m good.”
I release Brie’s hand so we can step through the door. We move to the reception desk and Brie signs in while I stand there, my eyes going to the window. What the fuck is going on?
24
Briella
My appointment goes well. Miranda, the counsellor, is a kind woman in her mid-thirties, who isn’t pushy at all. We didn’t talk at all about Sin, which surprised me, but rather she asked about my life, where I work, whether I like it, about my living arrangements and if I am dating. I didn’t really know how to explain what me and Daimon are to each other, so I told her he’s my boyfriend.
I come out of the session, relieved and tired from talking, the anxiety leaving me drained. Daimon is waiting, as promised, in the waiting area. He’s flicking through a girly magazine, which makes my lips curl up at the corners. He looks kind of funny, sitting there in his kutte, a chain spanning his hip, rings on his fingers, flicking through a magazine that is probably about makeup types and relationships.
He glances up as I step out of the room and pushes to his feet instantly, the magazine forgotten.
“You okay?” he demands, worry shining in his eyes.
That he cares makes me feel a thousand feet tall. I go to him and he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly against his chest. I breathe in his scent, relaxing instantly to his touch. Daimon makes me feel clean, he makes all the dirt Sin coated me in disappear. He keeps all my nightmares at bay, makes all my demons cower in his presence. With him, I feel like I can be me, not a victim of a horrible incident. He sees past that to the real me.
“Brie?” he says my name when I don’t answer him.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, pulling my face out of his chest, so I can glance up at him. “Take me home?”
He smiles down at me and my heart flutters. “You have to let go of me for that to happen.”
“Oh.”
I release him and he snags my hand instantly. “Let’s get you home.”
Together, we walk out into the parking area. The afternoon sun is still warm and I almost wish I wasn’t wearing my jacket, but Daimon wouldn’t let me get on the bike without something protecting my skin, although I think if he had his way, I’d be in full leathers, maybe even bubble wrap.
We walk over to his bike and he goes to the back to grab our helmets.
“It went okay?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “The lady, Miranda, is lovely. She was really patient, really kind with me.”
He nods. “That’s good, baby. You think you’d feel comfortable coming back next week?”
“She already booked me in.”
He dips his head and presses his mouth to mine. I melt against him immediately. “Good to hear, darlin’.”
“I think she will be able to help me. She’s easy to talk to, which makes a huge difference.”
He collars the back of my neck with his strong hand as he moves his mouth over mine.
When he pulls back finally, he leaves me breathless and wondering how the fuck I got so lucky to find a man like him, a man who isn’t scared of looking into the darkness I carry and shedding a little light on it, a man who will walk through fire to bring me back to who I was before Sin raped me.
I nibble at my bottom lip, my stomach churning. I’m a fucking disaster. What the hell does he see in me?
“I don’t know how you put up with such a broken, damaged mess.” I say it with a smile to take some of the sting out of my words, but I’m serious. I have no idea how he puts up with my shit. I’m a walking disaster.
He shakes his head. “Don’t say that. Ain’t nothing about you that’s broken. You need time to deal with this shit, to put it into a place where you can live with it and I’ll be there with you every step of the way Brie. I’m not going to leave you for a second. I’ll come to every single appointment if you need me to, I’ll go to whatever rehab shit you need to do too, because every day I see you claiming back just a fraction of the control that cunt took from you and every day I see you growing into this incredible woman—the woman you are no matter what was done to you. I love you, baby.”
His words melt some of the tension growing in my spine. I can tell he’s serious.
“I love you too.”
The squeaking of rubber has my head shifting towards the sound. A white van is racing towards us. Daimon reacts before I do, shoving me behind him. His hand reaches to his kutte, where I know he keeps his gun holstered under the leather, but he doesn’t pull anything out, just mutters a “Fuck!”
The van screams to a stop in front of us and the side door slides open with a painful screech of metal. Three men jump out, their faces hidden behind ski masks. My brain is struggling to process what I’m seeing, but Daimon is faster to react. He punches the first guy in the head, but the other two are faster. I suddenly start to comprehend what is happening and try to pull them off him.
“Leave him alone!” I scream, running towards them, trying to claw at his arms. I rake my nails down the bare skin of his arm, leaving behind thick marks.
A fist lashes out and slams into the side of my head. Pain erupts through my entire face and I see stars for a moment before I’m hit again. I go down to my knees, everything around me sounding dull and warped. I can still hear Daimon, though. He’s yelling my name, roaring curses and when I peer up through the blood that is streaming down my face, I catch his eyes. For the first time ever, I see genuine fear in his eyes. Then a hood is pulled over his head and he’s wrestled into the van, kicking and fighting still.
I stumble to my feet, wiping at the blood in my eyes, smearing it across the back of my hand and probably across my face too. My heart is hammering in my chest, my stomach lurching and I feel nauseous, but I try to stop them from taking him.
“Daimon!” I scream.
I throw a punch at the nearest guy, who is struggling to get Daimon’s legs inside the van. He absorbs it with a slight jolt of his head to the side, but that’s it. He turns to face me and backhands me so hard, I slam back against the tarmac. Fear is clawing at my heart now, knives gutting my stomach. Daimon has been wrestled onto his stomach and they’ve managed to bind his hands. He’s hardly moving, which scares the shit out of me. He’d fight if he could.
The man who hit me, snags me by the front of my jacket, dragging me to my feet. I fight against his hold, clawing at his arms. The long-sleeved Henley he’s wearing rucks up as I do, and I see a tattoo on his forearm. It’s a snake around a skull. I don’t see anything else because the man raises his fist again and slams it into my face.