Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 753(@200wpm)___ 602(@250wpm)___ 502(@300wpm)
“I didn’t!” Her arms fold in front of herself, her cheeks reddening.
She sighs. “Okay, so I didn’t correct her, but it wasn’t to get her jealous. I thought if I had implied that poor, innocent child was ours she wouldn’t run. That she’d, I don’t know, fight me?”
I remain silent. I can’t figure either of them out. They hate each other, I know that much, but there’s something else there. Dare I say a level of respect from both sides…
“She’s back, though, so that’s all that matters. I’ll be—" She jerks her head toward the kitchen, where Kyrin and Scarlet are. “—there when—if—she needs me.”
I ignore her and push away from the table, making my way down the long corridor to Bishop’s office. I open the door to everyone.
Bishop sits behind his desk, Priest parked up by the bay window with Vaden, and Nate and Brantley seated around the boardroom table near the back wall. Madison, Tillie, Lilith, Eli, and Saint are also there, with one more person. Tate. Madison’s crazy best friend and mother to the baby out in the kitchen that Katsia tried to pass off as her own.
Hector’s towering body rests on the edge of Bishop’s desk, and right there, knees to chest on a satin wingback chair, is Halen. The hoodie she’s wearing is pulled over her head, and her arms secure her knees to her chest.
“Amica.” Bishop is the first to break the tense silence. “We are your family. You know that anything you have done won’t matter, baby.”
Her body starts rocking a little, and I scrape one of the empty chairs up beside her. I need to give her space, not drag her onto my lap and swallow her whole.
For now.
“Do you want me to start?” Hector’s voice is gentle. One I’d never imagine coming from a man born with the kind of savagery he has.
Halen’s head bounces from beneath her hoodie.
Hector’s fingers wrap around the bottle of whiskey that’s on the table. “Before I start, what I’m about to tell you goes deeper than the people in this room right now. It involves others outside of it. We can handle them together. Agreed?”
A round of mumbles in agreement, and I raise a single finger to show my approval.
“Halen was fourteen years old. Three weeks before War’s birthday. A man came by the house and gave her a video. He threatened that if she didn’t come to him, that she would live to regret it.”
Fuck it.
My arms swoop around her body and I lift her onto my lap. Instead of fighting it like I thought she would, she curls into my chest.
My lips skim her forehead, bringing my arm out across her back to keep her locked against me.
“I can tell them.” Her whispers scatter over my chest from the softness of her lips.
My hand lands on her head, forcing her further into my neck.
She wriggles and I know she needs space. A strangled groan leaves my throat as I spread my legs out, loosening my grip enough for her to be able to talk, but staying in the same position.
“First, I need to start by coming clean about the curse. I don’t have it.”
“We know,” Priest’s glare is hot from across the room. “Which is why we didn’t give much of a fuck when you told us because we all knew you were lying.”
“Priest…” Madison warns from the other side of the room. “Let your sister finish.”
His mouth closes.
Halen continues, “I used it as an excuse after the night terrors and hallucinations started because the girls started asking questions. It grew from there. The only thing that would weaken them, if not rid them completely, was cold water immersion. A kind of—” She stiffens in my arms and I squeeze to reassure her. “—form of therapy for PTSD.”
“PTSD?” Priest cuts in again, and I’m pretty sure I hear the growl of Madison at my back.
Halen ignores him. “It only worked for as long as I did it.” She lifts her head from my shoulder, and I follow her line of sight to the girls. “I’m sorry I lied to you. When I got the booklet, it just kind of made it easy for me, because the truth was something I wasn’t ready to talk about.”
She rests her head back against my chest, her fingers wrapping around my wrist. “The video showed some kids around the same age as me, kneeling in front of the camera. They weren’t beaten or malnourished. They just looked… sad. They had no life in them, as if they’d never known anything other than pain and torment. At that point, I thought he was crazy. Why would I care? They looked fine.
“He flipped the camera onto his face, and I was proven wrong. So wrong. He announced I had two days—” She stops, and the room falls silent.