Stolen by a Sinner (Sinners #3)(59)

Hearing her call me the light of her eye, a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.

I glance to where I left Lara in Emre’s care and frown when I see Arnold Forbes, a wealthy businessman, talking to them.

The moment the song ends, I take my grandmother back to Emre and pull Lara to my side.

“Gabriel, so nice to see you,” Arnold says, holding his hand out to me.

I take it in a firm grip. “Likewise. I hope you enjoy the party.”

Pulling Lara to the floor, I ask, “Can you dance?”

“No.”

“Just follow my lead.” I tug her to my chest, then smile down at the nervous expression on her face. “I won’t let you trip.”

“Okay.”

Her eyes are locked on mine as I start to move, her body obeying mine.

Lara’s smile is filled with wonder as I steer her across the dance floor, then she murmurs in absolute awe, “I’m dancing.”

The music builds to a crescendo, and I spin her away from me. The shawl takes flight before floating to the floor. Suddenly Lara stumbles, and I dart forward to catch her by her shoulders, so she doesn’t fall.

“I’ve got you,” I chuckle.

Lara stands frozen, her lips parted, her face pale.

Tilting my head, I try to catch her eyes. “Lara?”

The next moment I hear gasps, my eyes snap up, and I notice the guests are staring at Lara with horrified expressions.

What the fuck?

I feel a tremor rock through her body, drawing my attention back to her. “Lara, are you okay?”

Slowly, she nods.

Nisa appears out of the crowd, her face tight with worry as she picks up the shawl. “Lara?”

What the hell is going on?

Noticing everyone is staring at Lara’s back, I move around her, then shock shudders through me with the force of a tsunami.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Thick welts cover her skin in haphazard patterns.

Whip marks.

Having tortured people myself, I know exactly what kind of force it takes to make those kinds of marks. How the skin splits open as the metal spike tears through it.

A violent rage forms a red haze around my vision.

The excruciating pain she had to endure.

“You’re okay,” Lara whispers as if she’s trying to reassure herself, her voice void of emotion. “You’re okay. It doesn’t matter. You’re okay.”

“Fuck,” I snap, and quickly shrugging off my jacket, I wrap it around her shoulders.

“Leave,” I shout, glaring at the murmuring guests.

The entertainment hall clears at the speed of light.

I wrap my arms around Lara, and lowering my head, I say, “Everyone’s leaving.”

She doesn’t respond. When it’s only my family and us, I pull back and frame her way too pale face. “Lara?”

There’s a vacant look in her eyes as if all the life has been drained from them.

“You’re okay,” she keeps whispering. “You’ve survived worse. You’re okay.” The words are so soft I almost miss them.

My heart. She’s shutting down.

“Don’t you dare shut me out.” Grabbing her by the shoulders, I shake her hard. “Look at me, Lara!”

“Allah Allah,” Nisa murmurs, distraught with worry.

My grandmother moves closer, a trembling hand covering her mouth.

Finally, Lara’s eyes focus on mine, and I frame her face again, pleading, “Let me in. Don’t hide this from me.”

Her features contort with heartache. “I ruined the party.”

“You did no such thing.” I lean down, not wanting to lose her attention.

Her eyes start to shimmer with unshed tears, but she clenches her jaw to keep from crying.

“Jesus, Lara, you’re killing me. Just let it out. Let me help you carry this.”

She shakes her head and tries to pull away from me. “Don’t you fucking dare!” I snap.

Instantly, she stops, then she gives me a pleading look, her chin quivering.

I’m fucking determined to get inside her head. Pressing my forehead to hers, I order with every ounce of dominance I have, “Let. Me. In.”

There’s so much pain on her face, it cracks my heart right down the middle. Suddenly a sob bursts from her, and she slams into my chest, burying her face against me.

My arms form steel bands around her as she finally gives in and breaks.

Looking at my family, I murmur, “Leave us.”

One by one, they walk out of the room, giving us privacy.

I lower my head and say, “I’ve got you, baby. Let it all out.”

Her sobs are pure fucking torture. I pull the jacket away from her, dropping it on the floor. Moving my hand to her back, I gently caress the marks left on her skin by that fucking mad man.

“Mazur did this to you?”

She nods, burrowing as close to me as possible.

With the height I have on Lara, I can see a part of her back and notice some welts are still healing.

“When was the last whipping?”

I think I already know the answer but can’t brace myself in time as she says, “When… I was late… with the… food.”

I close my eyes as a wave of suffocating regret hits.

She was beaten like an animal because of me.