Chapter 49

Nick’s efforts earned him a sharp slap with the riding crop over his arm—it left an angry red mark for days—and a cut palm when he fell from the blow. He’d scraped his hand over a small, jagged rock. It left a scar. A violent thunderstorm rolled in that night, and lightning streaked the sky and hit trees. More than one tree crashed to the ground. Lydia never made a peep. Not even when lightning struck the metal cage, killing her.

No one ever hugged Nick again after the night Lydia had died. Not until that first night with Todd.

The fingers in Nick’s hair tightened, and the stormy night Lydia was locked in a cage in the village square faded away. The hotel room took its place.

Nick stared at the palm of his right hand, and the faded scar for a few seconds, before he pitched forward onto his hands and knees, spitting up bile and gasping for air.