Chapter FIFTY-FIVE

Dane The scent of sex and sweat still lingered in the air, mixing with the rich aroma of whiskey as I leaned back in my chair, savoring the burn of my last sip. But no amount of alcohol could quench the heat still coursing through my veins—not when my eyes were locked on the laptop screen before me. Lusia. She stood beneath the cascading water, steam curling around her delicate frame like a lover’s embrace. Her skin glistened, covered in a soapy lather that slid down the curves of her body, tracing the scars that marred her flesh. Those scars—each one a testament to the suffering she had endured—should have repulsed me. But instead, they fascinated me. They were proof of her resilience, of the fire that burned within her despite everything she had been through. There were also scars she had gotten from me. Scars that indicated how cruelly I had handled her. I was mad at myself and I couldn’t understand why. I enjoyed every moment of it then. But they seemed to irk me now. There was not