Chapter 38

MAXWELL'S POV

The last time I had to prepare actual food was around five years ago. I hadn't entered a kitchen ever since Holly became my cook.

It was a crooked method of living, but when you have someone to do it, why do it yourself? I had fired Holly out of anger and annoyance that she couldn't at least keep Hannah in check.

It wasn't the first time.

The other time, I always ate outside. My kitchen remained untouched until my anger over her flip up had subsided, and after persuasions from my mom. Cooking just wasn't my thing.

I can't believe I'm doing this.

My head burned from the image of Hannah sitting in that chair, all tied up. The horrified look on her face when she saw me. The marks on her face and arms. I hated to think they touched her. I didn't care about the slightly larger than normal gash on my arm, nor how much blood I had lost. When I saw her like that, my heart burned. Like it was acid was permeating my veins, making it impossible to function.

I'd find those idiots.