As expected, the door to Cord’s suite was locked, but Amanda wasn’t concerned. She rummaged through her sling clutch bag and looked for the card key, silently thanking herself she didn’t leave it on the table earlier. She found it seconds later, the extra one she took after they checked in the other day. She held it against the automatic lock and after a beep, the door opened.
What greeted her when she entered the room was Cord, on his knees, his elbows and forehead touching the foot of the bed. If anything, it looked like he was praying, but Amanda knew better. He was in pain and possibly even in the middle of fighting his dark side from emerging.
She heard him grunt and groan, saw him heave and clench his fists to the point that his knuckles turned white. His profile was a picture of agony and torture, and her heart sank for him.
Why didn’t he tell her he was suffering all this time? Here she wa
