Chapter 6

I walked out of the bathroom, dripping and cold, my mind strangely clear. The party was winding down, but a commotion near the balcony drew my attention.

I saw Kiera backed against the railing, a drunken investor leering at her, his hand on her arm.

"Come on, sweet thing," he slurred. "Just one dance."

"Please, stop," Kiera said, her voice trembling with what looked like genuine fear.

Before anyone could react, Cohen moved like a lightning strike. He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the investor by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.

"Get your hands off her," Cohen snarled, his face contorted with a fury I had never seen directed at anyone but me.

He drew back his fist and punched the man squarely in the jaw. The sound of bone hitting bone echoed through the now-silent room. The investor crumpled to the floor, groaning.

The scene descended into chaos. People were shouting. The investor' s friends rushed forward.

Someone grabbed my arm. It was Liam, Cohen' s friend, his face pale. "Aurora, do something! You' re the only one he might listen to. This is getting out of hand."

He was right. Cohen was a public figure. A brawl at his own party would be a PR nightmare. It was my duty as his fiancée-a role I still technically held-to contain the damage.

With a deep, weary sigh, I stepped forward. "Cohen, that' s enough."

I placed a hand on his arm. It was like touching stone.

He whipped around, his eyes wild and unfocused. When he saw me, he didn' t see an ally. He saw an obstacle.

"Stay out of this, Aurora!" he yelled, and with a violent shrug, he threw my hand off.

The force of his movement, combined with my still-unsteady balance from my injuries and the slick marble floor, sent me stumbling backward. My heel caught on the leg of a chair.

I fell.

My head, the same side that had hit the pavement, slammed against the sharp corner of a glass coffee table.

A blinding, white-hot pain exploded behind my eyes. The room tilted, the lights blurring into streaks. My vision swam with black spots.

I struggled to my knees, my hand flying to my head. It came away wet and sticky with blood.

Through the ringing in my ears, I heard Kiera' s voice, a perfect blend of fear and concern.

"Oh, Cohen, my hero," she sobbed, throwing her arms around his neck. "That man was terrifying. Please, take me away from here."

He immediately forgot the fight, forgot the blood, forgot me. His focus narrowed to her.

"It' s okay, baby. I' ve got you," he murmured, his voice softening instantly. He scooped her into his arms, cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

He carried her past me, his eyes never even flickering in my direction. He left me kneeling in a growing pool of my own blood on his expensive marble floor.

I watched them go, a single, cold thought solidifying in my mind. He would let me die to save her from a broken nail.

I managed to pull myself to my feet, swaying, using the furniture for support. Liam rushed over, his face a mess of panic and guilt. "Aurora, my God, we need to get you to a doctor."

"No," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "I' m going home."

I walked out of the penthouse, leaving a small trail of blood behind me. No one tried to stop me.

The cold night air hit my face. It was raining, a miserable, steady downpour that matched the bleakness in my soul. I hailed a cab, the driver' s eyes widening at the sight of the blood matting my hair, but he didn' t say anything.

The ride back to the Wrights' mansion, the place I was forced to call home for now, was a blur of pain and rain-streaked city lights. My head throbbed in time with the windshield wipers.

I let myself into the silent, imposing house and went straight to my bathroom. I cleaned and bandaged the gash on my head myself, my movements slow and deliberate. The physical pain was nothing compared to the gaping wound in my soul.

I looked at my pale, bruised reflection in the mirror. I didn' t recognize the woman staring back at me.

I walked into my bedroom and opened the closet. In the back, tucked away in a box, were mementos from my three years with Cohen. A dried flower from our first date. A silly photo from a vacation. A handwritten note promising me the world.

I took the box and carried it to the fireplace in the library.

One by one, I fed the memories to the flames. I watched the photos curl and blacken, the letters turn to ash.

He had promised me forever. He had promised me protection. He had promised me love.

What a beautiful, tragic lie it had all been.

As the last piece of paper dissolved into embers, a sudden, violent noise from outside startled me. The sound of a car door slamming, of heavy, running footsteps.

Before I could react, my bedroom door burst open. It wasn't Cohen. It was two large, menacing strangers. One of them clamped a chemical-soaked rag over my mouth and nose.

My body went limp. My last conscious thought was a flash of Kiera' s triumphant smile.

I woke up in the back of a moving van, my hands and feet bound with zip ties. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline. My head throbbed.

A man was leering down at me, his face cruel in the dim light. "Well, well. Look who' s awake."

I struggled, a surge of pure terror flooding my veins.

"Don' t bother," he sneered. "Your boyfriend paid us a lot of money to have some fun with you before we get rid of you. Seems he doesn' t like girls who cause trouble for his new toy."

Boyfriend? Cohen? No. It couldn' t be.

But the seed of doubt was planted. Kiera was vindictive, but this level of violence... it seemed orchestrated by a power she didn' t have. But Cohen did.

The man' s hand reached for the zipper of my dress.

A primal scream built in my throat. I thrashed wildly, kicking out with all my strength. My foot connected with his groin. He howled in pain and stumbled back.

In that split second, I rolled, throwing my body weight against the back door of the van. It wasn't latched properly. It flew open, and I tumbled out onto the hard, wet asphalt of a deserted industrial road.

I scrambled to my feet and ran, my bound hands making me clumsy, my heart hammering with a terror so profound it was paralyzing. I could hear them shouting behind me, the van screeching to a halt.

I ran for my life.