Chapter 8
Declan watched slack-jawed as Layla hurried down the hall and slammed the bathroom door. Without his bike, he couldn’t leave if he wanted to, but even if his bike was here, there was no way in hell he’d take off now. She needed him whether she wanted to believe it or not, and damn it, he was going to be there for her.
He took determined strides down the hallway and stopped outside the bathroom door, hand poised to knock when the shower turned on. The noise wasn’t enough to drown out Layla’s sobs, though.
Declan had been shot at, beaten, skin torn from his face with the sharp edge of a knife, yet hearing the sobs coming out of Layla was like no pain he’d ever known. It poked at his heart, ripped at his gut, and made him want to track down every person who’d ever hurt her.
Some
