38

Veronica

I woke up in Stefan's arms. I didn't move and tried to keep my breathing level. What in hell had happened last night? How close had I come to being whipped? I knew he'd needed that scene—that insane scene—to happen. He couldn't tiptoe around the past any longer. Maybe coming back here, maybe subconsciously, he'd sought the confrontation because without it, there could be no relief. I hoped that last night was his victory over the demons that haunted him. I hoped that last night, he'd banished them to the hell in which they belonged.

What kind of childhood had he had?

What kind of guilt did he carry on his shoulders?

He'd told me he'd protected his brothers from his father, and I understood he took whippings to save them. What he'd said last night, though, had his father—once Stefan was too big to beat—had he turned his rage on Stefan's mother?

What a beast. What a monster.

I looked up at my husband's sleeping face. It was the first time I'd seen him like this. The first time