Ryder
Between the three of us, I thought it was going to be me who fu.cked this whole thing up. To my surprise it’s Thorne. Or maybe not to my surprise. He couldn’t resist her once before, and I don’t blame him. I have a hard time keeping my hands to myself, which could be said about this moment right now—as my fist connects with Thorne’s face for the second time.
He’s not fighting back. You should stop. Or so my conscious keeps yelling, but my heart is screaming: kill him.
She was hurting tonight. She was breaking. I saw it with my own eyes, felt it as I held her to sleep. I may have hurt her physically but Thorne killed her emotionally, so how dare he fu.ck her the way he is?
She's quietly watching, sitting up on the bed now that Thorne isn't holding her in place. God she looked so
