Dominic’s head was tipped back against the cold hospital wall, his eyes closed, but he wasn’t resting.

Every minute felt like an hour. He’d stayed the entire night, sitting there, waiting, worrying. He kept seeing her bruised face, remembering the helpless look in her eyes before they wheeled her away.

Sandra had been attacked by men he couldn’t name, men whose faces he could only imagine. The thought of her being hurt, alone, and in pain made him ache with anger and guilt.

Sometime in the night, Dominic must have drifted off, though he wasn’t sure how. All he knew was that his eyes opened to the soft, dim glow...