He would kill anything that hurt his Katie. Anything. But he could not kill her.

So how the fuck did he deal with a woman intent on doing herself harm? Hell. The extent of the harm she had done herself was incredible. It nauseated him to picture her sitting on her bed, or a toilet seat somewhere with a little mirror, her pale legs stretched wide and a razor blade clutched between her slim fingers. Why the fuck had she done it? It must have been agonizing to feel the blade ...