ELARA.

He didn’t let me get dressed properly.

A soft black shirt of his hit my chest while he finished buttoning his trousers. It hung to mid-thigh and smelled like him. No bra. No underwear. Just the shirt and the sticky evidence of what he’d done to me still between my legs.

“Put it on. You’re coming with me.”

My pulse kicked. “Downstairs?”

“You heard what he said. Your name is in mouths it shouldn’t be in. Until I know how far that goes, you don’t leave my sight.” He grabbed his gun from the nightstand and slid it into the holster at his back like it was just another...