Page 46 of Break Me

Samuel braces, jaw clenched, chest heaving, blood dripping from his lip as he pulls himself to his feet. “Everyone get the fuck out.”

The whole room freezes. Even Knox stops struggling.

“All of you, get out,” Samuel seethes, chest heaving. “She deserves her dignity at the very least.”

Dad’s eyes flick to me, the sheet still clutched around my body, my shoulders trembling.

“Raven,” he says, voice cold, “get dressed and meet me in the main room. Now.”

Knox tears free of Bishop’s hold and jabs a shaking finger at Samuel. “You’re done. You’re done in this club. Done in this family. Done breathing if you come near her again.”

I choke on my tears watching the two people I love most destroy each other and knowing I’m powerless to stop any of it.

“Everyone out,” Samuel growls again. “Or so help me God⁠—”

It takes Mouse and Bishop to shove Knox into the hallway. Dad follows.

The room goes silent. Samuel’s still breathing hard, knuckles white, body shaking from pain and adrenaline.

“Sam,” I whisper.

He closes his eyes, anguish, fury, and love slicing through him all at once.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice ragged. “I’m so damn sorry—” The look in his eyes breaks me wide open.

The sheet slips from my body as I slide off the bed. “Sit down,” I say softly.

He doesn’t move.

“Sam,” I say, stepping closer. “Please.”

He eases himself down onto the edge of the mattress, wincing as the movement pulls at his bruised ribs.

“Raven.” His voice is quieter now. “Get dressed.”

I glance toward the clothes scattered on the floor, but don’t move.

“Sam, I just want to help.”

“I know.” He drags a trembling hand down his face, His eyes glancing over my shoulder to the splintered doorway where light spills into the room. “But the whole damn hall can see straight in. I’ll kill someone if they look at you right now.”

By the time I finish pulling on my clothes, my hands are shaking.

Blood has dried at the corner of Sam's mouth. Bruises are already beginning to darken beneath his skin.

I cross the room and kneel in front of him, lifting his chin so I can get a better look at the damage.

He flinches. “Sweetheart, you don't have to⁠—”

“You're not alone in this, Wolf,” I say, voice thick with emotion. “Let me take care of you.”

His eyes close, lashes wet. I grab the hem of the ruined bedsheet and dab carefully at the blood on his mouth.

“Let me see your ribs,” I whisper.

“Rae—”

“Lift your arm.”