My own tears fell, caused by guilt and the knowledge Brax suffered and stressed. His nightmares would’ve been horrific.

“When I got home, I tried everything to investigate where women were taken from Mexico, but once stolen, most girls were never found. Some were located in Spain, Saudi Arabia, but never alive.

“My heart broke, coming to terms I’d never see you again.” His voice caught, and he looked with such agony, I shrivelled. “Then you called! I wanted to kill myself for not picking up. But my boss had been calling constantly, begging me to return to work, and I put it on silent. When I heard your voice, your panic, the fact that you were alive. Shit, I wanted to break the phone into little pieces for not being able to talk to you.”

His chest pumped as his hands curled. “But you gave me a name. A f**king bastard called Q Mercer. You gave me a lead. I had no idea what you were doing in France, but I called the Feds, and they took over. They found a wealthy man living in Blois who owned mega property. I did some research, but couldn’t find a single image of him, or what he could be doing with you.

He sighed before continuing, reliving his own nightmare. “The police stayed true to their word. They said they’d investigate, and if they found you, they’d make him release you and put him in jail. I hope to God they hang him.”

The thought of Q dead had horror stabbing my heart. The hate in Brax’s voice chilled me and I rushed to intercede. “Q Mercer wasn’t who I thought he was. I escaped and found myself in worse trouble, but Q rescued me.”

I couldn’t stop the shiver as Brute shot into my mind. Forcing it away, I added, “He helped me heal, then let me go.” Those two paragraphs would be all I uttered on the matter. It was my life, tied with a pretty pink bow.

Brax screwed up his face. “You’re saying he just let you go? The police never showed up?”

I smiled. “The police arrived, and thank you for helping them find me. But Q was going to give me up all along.” My heart twisted, wishing it wasn’t true. “You see, he rehabilitates women who are broken and sold. He buys them, but once they’re healed, he sends them home.” I couldn't stop the swell of pride in my chest. Q wasn’t a monster. He may think he was, but a monster would never do that. A monster would torture and rape and kill. Not offer freedom after a life of misery.

Brax relaxed a little. “So, he never touched you? You were kept safe and protected this entire time?” Eyes dropped to the sheet I pressed against my throat. “What about the marks on your body?”

I sat straighter, hoping like hell I hid the truth. “I got those when I ran away. I lived in luxury, and made friends with his maid, Suzette.” I beamed brighter, fighting watery grief threatening to crush. “I’m fine. Honestly. Together, we can get our lives back on track.”

He cocked his head, and, for a moment, I wondered if he didn’t buy my lie, but then he reached for me. I climbed into his arms.

Brax kissed the top of my head, murmuring, “It’s all going to be better now. You’re home. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

I snuggled closer and didn’t say a word.

Chapter 23

*Woodpecker*

A human is adaptable. A human heart is not.

A month trickled past, and I resumed my old life as if I’d never gone. Two weeks after returning, I called my parents.

Brax told them what happened in Mexico, and they cremated an old stuffed unicorn of mine, then scattered it in the back garden, believing I was dead. In their old, foggy minds, my reincarnation was a messy ordeal, not a happy second chance. The conversation was stilted and hard.

I never called again.

I became addicted to raging songs, just like Q. The lyrics shared my pain, letting it unleash from festering inside.

Your memory won’t leave my head

haunting me, hunting me, driving me crazy, I wish I were dead

every time I close my eyes, you’re there, ready to suck me into dark desires

reality is where I no longer want to be, my dreams are my salvation

I will cut you out, chop you up, break every bone in my body

if only it meant peace from your dark melody

I never played the songs when Brax was home, but when it was just me and loneliness, words rained with heartache and need.

In my dreams, Q visited, and I woke to shooting stars and orgasms. By day, I forced myself to act and lie and be Tessie. The truth and Q blistered my heart; I became as successful in hiding my feelings as he was.

My secrets stayed locked behind a fortress of blue-eyed innocence. My body healed and the whiplashes no longer showed. But they blazed bright and red on my soul.

Some nights, I twisted my ni**les so hard, just to try and recreate mind-tripping lust like Q, but it never worked.

The vibrancy and encompassing life he’d given became a distant, dark paradise. Reality took over. I sat my final exams for uni. They let me take my tests late, due to circumstances, and I passed with flying colours. Brax took me out for dinner to celebrate, but I fumbled through the evening, aware I’d snipped another anchor keeping me here. I had an education now. The only thing tethering me was Brax. And day after day proved it wasn’t enough.

I tried to recapture Q’s mansion on my tatty sketchpad, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get it right.

I reconnected with Stacey, and friends from uni, and started looking for work in the property industry. I coasted through life in a semi-aware state. Smiling, laughing even, but everything was muted—covered by a filmy screen, never letting me see bright colours, or smell rich scents, or enjoy exquisite pleasure.

Thirty-six days after Q abandoned me, two things happened that rocked my bland world.

Brax subtly changed. I noticed he spent a lot of time putting out the garbage. I didn’t care, and only curiosity made me follow one night.

Sneaking outside our apartment block, I found him talking to our neighbour across the hall. She had her face in Blizzard’s fur and a look of adoration in her eyes for Brax.

My fingers convulsed as my heart raced faster—the first spike of emotion in a month.

I never stopped to consider the life Brax led while I played kinky slave with Q. He cared for her—the tentative sweetness he’d shown me when we first met—glowed in his eyes.

Oh, my God, did he resent me for coming back into his life when he thought I was dead?

I was so selfish to never consider it. After the first morning, we pretended as though nothing happened. We never discussed it, and I never complained when we didn’t have sex again. I didn’t want to admit it, but living with Brax, accepting his kisses and hand-holding, felt like I cheated on Q, which was idiotic and frustrating as hell. But my body hated me for betraying my master. Subsidizing real Q for dream Q, I grew wet while I slept, and trembled for release.