Marc sucked in a breath, hurt face open with the truth.
Angela stood up in regret and fear. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I said that."
"After everything you've been through, I guess you owe me a few." Marc stood too, reeling from the blow that she already knew he wasn't over her, and frowned when he caught her flinch from the corner of his eye.
"I'm sorry, Brady. It won't happen again."
The note of real fear was unmistakable and he slowed his movements, turned his back to her so that she couldn't see the rage on his face. She was afraid of him; terrified. "Better to let it out, Honey. The sooner we clear the air, the sooner you'll trust me again and feel safe."
"But, I do," she protested.
Marc shook his head, moving toward the door, but his sharp gaze was on her and he saw the truth, saw the relief on her face when he kept going.
"I called you, didn't I?" she argued tiredly as his hand went to the knob.
"Yes, but you're not sure if you can trust me. It's a problem we'll have to work on."
"It's not a problem. I'm fine," Angela insisted, worrying he was about to leave.
"Then why do you go for your gun every time I move?" He watched her slide trembling hands into her pockets. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Marc waved at the wolf, voice hard, "Stay. Guard her."
The huge animal immediately lay down in the doorway, and Marc closed the door, leaving Angela relieved, confused, and sorry she hadn't controlled her reactions better.
Marc walked the perimeter, furious. Angie was scared, and not that childish shit women did over mice and spiders: it was real fear of being hurt and he hated the people who had taught her that. He was hoping her life hadn't been as bad as watching her implied, but every minute they spent together said it had been worse. The fear she was carrying was not from being attacked by the twins; it wasn't new. She was terrified of men, and that only came from being hurt by one.
"What if she's been abused?" his heart demanded. "What if it's just like she says? What if he comes for her and finds she's not alone?"
"Then I'll fight for her." The words were instinctive and the Sergeant thought he'd probably end up doing that anyway. It was ingrained.