“Shoulda known if we pushed he was going to push back. Shouldn’t have left you alone.” His thumb ran along the curve of my cheek and I closed my eyes only to have the paramedic that was hovering near the top of my head prod me and tell me I couldn’t rest until I had a doctor check me out. He was guessing it was a concussion, as well I gathered.

I wanted to tell Wheeler it was about time I pushed. Pushed my father. Pushed my mother. Pushed against everything that had landed me in an abusive marriage and feeling like that was what I deserved. I pushed and pushed until it was no longer a part of me, and if that meant having to face off with another man that wanted nothing more than compliance and obedience, then I would do it again and again. For myself and for anyone else stuck in a bad situation.

Obviously, Wheeler couldn’t be by my side 24/7 but I couldn’t tell him that until my voice started working. It was sweet that he wanted to be a living barrier between me and the rest of the world, but I was done hiding. I’d been slowly working my way out of the protective shell I’d surrounded myself in after Oliver’s attack and I realized today that no matter how careful I’d been, or how deliberate I’d been in the people I let into my life, danger was always lurking close to home. It was never strangers that did the most damage: it was the men that were supposed to love me the most.

I’d had some really bad people in my life, ones that had left their mark and taken bits and pieces of me that I didn’t want to give. But I’d been fortunate enough to have some really amazing, special people in my life as well. Instead of taking, they gave me what I needed to heal and to make myself whole. They also left marks, but theirs were ones that I didn’t want to hide in the dark. They made me smile. They made me brave. They made me bold. I wasn’t living my life where the scars and wounds were—no, I was living it where the love and light found me every single day. What happened with my father wasn’t going to drag me backward. It was going to propel me forward, knowing he had made his own bed, stuffed with consequences and penance. I would rest easy at night knowing he would never be able to hurt me, my mother, or Salem again with either his words or his fists.

This was his end and my beginning.

“You’re gonna be okay, honey … we’re gonna be okay.” Wheeler sounded so sure of the fact that all I could do was believe him. I trusted him and he never lied to me. His wild was still riled up and needed soothing, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it while I was strapped down to a gurney with an IV in my arm. That wolf was going to have to howl just a little bit longer.

ONCE I GOT into the ER, it was a flurry of activity. I was separated from Wheeler, much to his aggravation and very vocal displeasure. Salem and Rowdy showed up to keep him in check and run interference as he snapped at every person that tried to get between me and him even though they were just trying to help. I needed X-rays of my head and throat, plus I’d lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion. Luckily, Saint Ford, a friend of my sister’s who happened to be married to the guy that painted Wheeler’s garage, was the attending nurse. I managed to avoid having a panic attack when she started fluttering around me and cutting my bloody clothes off. She handled getting me visually checked out and into a hospital gown efficiently and professionally, so I didn’t really have time to freak out. I didn’t know her well but she was super nice, very patient, and treated me like I might break. She didn’t touch me any more than was necessary and she let Wheeler into my little cubicle that was divided from the one next to it by a curtain as quickly as she could. My sister and Rowdy fussed over me for as long as I could tolerate without being able to respond to anything they were asking. Sensing my growing agitation, Wheeler gently convinced them to come back in the morning when I wasn’t holding on to my composure by the very tips of my fingernails.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, one of my hands held in his as his other hand traced over the features of my face like he was trying to memorize each and every one when the curtain swished back and another familiar face made an appearance. I knew I was going to have to talk to the police eventually but I didn’t think I was going to get lucky enough to land in Royal Hastings’s lap. She was also a friend of my sister’s and someone that I knew in passing. She’d been instrumental in starting the manhunt for me as quickly as possible when Oliver snatched me from Salem’s apartment. All the stars were aligning to make this horrific attack as easy on me as possible—the stars and some well-meaning women. Saint let it slip that she saw my name on the intake board and bounced her coworker to another room so she could take care of me. As she gently and lightly laid me back on the hospital bed so I didn’t jostle the stitches and bandage that was now wrapped around my head like a mummy, she told me how she saw too many women come through the doors of her ER battered and bruised at the hands of someone they loved. She frowned as she told me how much it bothered her when they left with the person that put them there in the first place. She was ecstatic to hear that I would be leaving with Wheeler.

Royal watched me with knowing, cop eyes as she told us both, “I heard the call and recognized the name. I told my sergeant you’d been through enough with these men in your life and would probably be more receptive to a familiar face taking your statement than some strange man. Plus, I doubted Slugger here was feeling like letting anyone with a dick anywhere near you. I even told my partner to sit this one out.” She pointed a finger at Wheeler and wagged it back and forth. “Lucky you had witnesses to back up your story that you attacked Pastor Cruz in self-defense, Speedy. You’d be looking at a night in lockup if not.” I wondered at the nickname and made a mental note to ask him about it later.

Wheeler grunted and ran his thumb over the curve of my bottom lip. “She can’t talk. Her trachea is all fucked up and she has a severe concussion. The doc is keeping her for a few days and doesn’t know when she’ll be able to talk.” He sounded so frustrated and overly protective over it all, so I reached up and patted his shoulder reassuringly.

Royal rocked back on her heels and clicked her tongue. She was kind of a goof, and stunningly gorgeous … it was an odd combination for a police officer but it seemed to work for her. She was good at her job and obviously gave a damn about the people she was supposed to protect and serve.

“That’s okay. We’ll talk when you’re better, Poppy. I just thought you might want to know that the D.A. is looking at charging your old man with attempted murder. We found the rock he hit you with and it was obvious he stalked you until he found an opportunity to attack. That’s not a crime of passion, that’s a plan, one that thankfully, backfired. You’re lucky those college kids that live in the building were headed out for happy hour when they did.”