Chapter 173

Silvia Sherman placed me on the edge of the hospital bed like I was made of glass, even though you could practically feel the storm rolling off him. His hands were warm but rough as he framed my jaw, making sure I met his intense, searching gaze. “Silvia. Look at me. Tell me what the hell just happened," he said, voice ragged with anxiety but edged with that Alpha’s sharpness. “Did that prick hurt you? Tell me the truth. I need to know, right now." Hearing Sherman curse like that, all raw and protective, almost made me flinch. I wiped my tears quickly with the heel of my palm, fingers shaking so hard I could barely hold onto my phone. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. I forced in a breath, trying not to sob. “You need to see this," I said, pressing my phone into his palm. He snatched it up, confusion crossing his face as he watched, but that only lasted a second. The video told its own story—murdered women, that wall of horrors, and finally, a shot of my face scribbled over with a re