Page 33 of Corrupted Tyrant

A sob rises in my chest, a lifetime of unacknowledged pain clawing at my throat. I cover my mouth, trying to hold it back, but it’s too much, too big. The tears come in a hot rush, the walls I’ve so carefully constructed crumbling to dust.

Distantly, I hear Liz call for a break, feel the warmth of Courage’s arms around me as he pulls me to his chest. But I’m lost in the flood, the crush of half-forgotten memories and suppressed emotions thundering through my veins.

“I’ve got you,” Courage murmurs against my temple, his voice cutting through the static in my head. “Let it out, baby. I’m right here.”

And I do. I cry for the little girl who learned too young that her body wasn’t her own. For the teenager who traded her innocence for a shot at her dreams. For the woman who’s spent so long running from her past, she almost forgot how to stand still.

But I also cry for the survivor. For the fighter who refused to let them win, who clawed her way out of the darkness and into the light. For the voice that even now rises in rebellion, in defiance of a system that sought to silence her.

When the tears finally slow, when I can draw a full breath without shaking, I pull back just enough to meet Courage’s gaze. His eyes are wet, his jaw clenched as he controls his own emotions in order to support me.

“I am so damn proud of you.” His voice is raw, fierce. “You are strong, brave. You’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever known, Candy Wood.”

After giving him a watery smile, I lean up to press my forehead against his. I want to argue, to tell him I don’t feel strong or brave right now. But that’s the point, right? Feel the fear and do it anyway.

He kisses me, soft and sweet and achingly tender. A promise, a declaration, a vow. In this moment, I am invincible. Untouchable. Whole.

We stay like that for a long moment, breathing each other in, until Liz gently clears her throat. “Candy? Are you ready to continue?”

“Maybe I should go wash my face and touch up my makeup. I must look terrible.” Just as I’m about to go into the house, Liz puts a gentle hand on my arm.

“You do look a mess. You look real. Your emotions just now were raw, authentic. Every person who has experienced abuse will relate to you. Those of us who want to make changes will fight for you. We recorded everything, but you get the final say in what we release. Frankly, I’d like to keep every heartfelt, honest moment.”

I straighten, squaring my shoulders as I turn to face the cameras once more. “Yes,” I say, my voice steady and sure. “Let’s finish this.”

The rest of the interview passes in a blur. I answer Liz’s questions with raw honesty, a savage grace that leaves me feeling clean, new skin growing over old wounds. By the end, I am empty in the best possible way, a vessel purged of poison, ready to be filled with light.

When the cameras stop rolling, when Liz enfolds me in a fierce hug and Eleanor gives me a nod of solemn respect, a surge of something bright and buoyant bursts in my chest. Not quite peace, not yet.

But something close. Something like hope.

Courage takes my hand as we walk to the van, his palm warm and solid against mine. “Ready to face the world, rock star?” There’s a glint of pride shining in his eyes.

I think of the little girl I used to be, the woman I’ve become, the warrior I’ve always been. And I smile, wide and true and glorious.

“Damn straight,” I tell him. “Bring it on.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Courage

The silence in the van is heavy, weighted with the aftermath of Candy’s interview. She stares out of the window, her reflection ghostly in the glass, the passing landscape a blur of muted colors and indistinct shapes.

I reach over, covering her hand with mine where it rests on her thigh. “Hey,” I murmur, my thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin. “You with me?”

She blinks, turning to face me with a shaky exhale. “Yeah,” she says, her voice hoarse from the hours of raw, unflinching testimony. “Just… processing, I guess.”

I nod, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. “You were incredible back there, Candy. The way you spoke your truth, the way you refused to let them silence you… it was fucking inspiring.”

For a moment, I contemplate pulling over and easing her onto my lap, but we’re only an hour away from our hotel. I imagine she’d rather get there as quickly as possible so she can let her guard down.

A wan smile flickers across her face, there and gone like quicksilver. “Inspiring? I don’t know about that. Mostly I just feel… hollowed out. Like I’ve been scraped raw from the inside out.”

Candy frowns as her phone beeps. Reluctance and fear are etched on her face as she reaches for it. Scanning the message, her face goes deathly pale. My fur bristles with dread.

“What?” My tone is gruff, my muscles tense as a bowstring.

She swallows hard, then reads with a shaky voice as I pull to the side of the highway.

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