Chapter 2

The conversation inside the operating room continued, each word a layer of ice forming around my heart. I sat frozen in the wheelchair, the nurse who brought me here long gone, my newly returned sight registering nothing but the sterile hallway floor.

"But Liam, her hands... the nerve damage is becoming irreparable," Ben Carter pleaded, his voice thin with desperation. "We can' t keep doing this. Morally, professionally... this is a nightmare."

"Morality doesn' t keep Charlotte out of prison," Liam' s voice was sharp, cutting. "Do you think I enjoy this, Ben? Do you think I like seeing her like this?"

There was a pause. I imagined Liam shaking his head, performing the deep-seated frustration he was so good at faking.

"Every time I look at her, I see what I' ve had to do. But then I think of Charlotte. She was terrified. It was dark, it was raining. She didn' t even know she hit someone until she saw it on the news the next day. A moment of panic. That' s all it was. It shouldn' t ruin her entire life."

A moment of panic. My mother' s life, reduced to a moment of panic. My life, my child' s life, my body, all collateral damage for a moment of his mistress' s panic.

"And the baby?" Ben' s voice was barely a whisper. "Liam, that was your son."

"It was a medical necessity," Liam stated, his tone devoid of any emotion. It was the voice of a surgeon discussing a tumor, not a father discussing his murdered child. "The trauma of the accident caused a placental abruption. The fetus was no longer viable. I made a clinical decision to prevent further complications for Ava. It was the most humane thing to do."

A lie. A clean, medical lie to cover a monstrous truth. Our baby wasn't a complication. He was an inconvenience. He was a link to a life Liam wanted to erase.

"And what about the car that hit Ava?" Ben asked. "The drunk driver you had arrested?"

"A loose end," Liam said dismissively. "I paid him. A small price to ensure the official story holds. As far as the world is concerned, Ava is a tragic victim, and I am her devoted fiancé. That' s how it needs to stay."

The door to the operating room swung open.

I instinctively snapped my eyes shut, my head lolling to the side, my body going limp. I was blind again. I was helpless again. It was the only armor I had.

"Ava? What are you doing out here?" Liam' s voice was suddenly filled with concern. He knelt beside my wheelchair. I could smell the antiseptic on his scrubs, the expensive cologne underneath. It was the scent I used to associate with safety. Now it made me want to vomit.

"I' m sorry, Liam," I murmured, my voice weak and raspy. "The nurse... she said my check-up was done. I wanted to see you."

"Oh, my sweet girl." His hand stroked my cheek. It took every ounce of my willpower not to flinch. "You should have waited in the room. You' re still so fragile."

He began to wheel me back toward my room. Ben Carter trailed behind us, silent. I could feel his eyes on me, heavy with guilt.

Back in the private room, Liam gently lifted me from the wheelchair and placed me on the bed. He arranged the pillows behind me, his movements practiced and tender. A perfect performance.

"Now," he said softly, taking my right hand, the one in the slightly smaller cast. "Let' s take a look at these fingers. You' ve been complaining about stiffness."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I knew what was coming.

He carefully unwrapped the bandages. My fingers were thin and pale, the joints swollen. I could wiggle them slightly, a testament to the healing my body was desperately trying to achieve.

"See?" I whispered, trying to inject a note of hope into my voice. "I think... I think they' re getting better."

Liam smiled. It was a cold, empty thing that didn' t reach his eyes. "That' s wonderful, darling. Let' s just help them along a little."

He held my hand in his. His grip was firm, professional. The grip of a surgeon.

Then, he took my index finger between his thumb and forefinger.

I braced myself.

He looked directly into my closed eyes, as if to make sure I couldn't see the monster behind the mask.

Crack.

A sound, not loud, but sickeningly intimate. A white-hot, blinding pain shot up my arm. A scream tore from my throat, raw and animalistic. It was a real scream, a scream of pure, unadulterated agony.

He didn' t stop.

Crack. My middle finger.

Tears streamed from my tightly shut eyes. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

"It' s just a spasm, Ava," he soothed, his voice a low murmur against my screams. "Your muscles are seizing up. We need to work them out. Just relax. I' m here."

Crack. My ring finger.

I was no longer just acting. The pain was real, a physical manifestation of the truth I had just learned. Each snap of a bone was an echo of his betrayal. My mother. Leo. My hands. My life. All broken by this man.

He was re-breaking my fingers, one by one, with the detached precision of a master craftsman. And I, fully awake, fully aware, had to lie there and let him do it.

The pain was excruciating, but something else was happening inside me. As my bones broke, my will hardened. The fire of my grief was being forged into the steel of vengeance.

He finished with my little finger and then started on my left hand. By the time he was done, I was drenched in sweat, trembling and sobbing. The pain was a roaring inferno.

"There," he said, his voice gentle as he re-wrapped my hands in fresh bandages. "That' s better. The tension is gone. Now you can heal properly."

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. His lips felt like ice against my feverish skin.

"You are so strong, Ava. I love you so much."

I lay there, a broken thing in a hospital bed, my world shattered, my body a prison of pain. But for the first time since my mother' s death, my mind was crystal clear.

The profile I needed to create wasn't for the Shadow Creek Killer.

It was for my fiancé.