Page 32 of Fractured Heart

“Everyone deals with trauma differently. I find strength in using my guys to get off. You find strength in training so you won’t ever be at the mercy of another man again.”

“Your guys, huh?” I frown and purse my lips as I turn away from her. “I see you with them. I know you like them but you don’t let it show, why?”

I answer without hesitation. “Feelings are a weakness. The moment you allow yourself to care for someone they hold power over you. I have been stripped of power for years and I refuse to allow anyone to have that hold over me again. I cared for my family once, they chose to believe I was dead and gave up on me. Love is what makes you falter, rethink yourself and I won’t do it.”

“How did you end up here?”

“I honestly don’t know. After I pushed my best friend out of the car, it went into the water and when I woke up, I was strapped to a table.”

“Fourteen years is a long time,” she whispers.

“You have no idea.”

“I do actually.” I snap my head toward her.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“I’m twenty-one, Doxy. I was sold when I was nine.” My brows raise and I jerk back.

“You were with them for twelve years,” I whisper. Anguish roars to life inside me. She was a fucking child, innocent and pure and they… they fucking defiled her. “I’m sorry.” Her features harden.

“Don’t fucking pity me. I got out, you said we can be victims or survivors and I am a survivor. I will get my revenge and then I will find where the fuck my daughter is.”

“You have a kid?” I rasp out past the lump in my throat. Her eyes turn glassy and fill with unshed tears that she quickly blinks away.

“I’ve never told anyone about her,” she says brokenly.

“What happened to her?” I hear the pain in my own voice.

“I don’t know.” The bitterness that laces her words can be felt.

“How long ago did you have her?”

“I was thirteen.” My face slackens and I gasp. “She would be about eight now.” I slam my eyes closed and try to breathe through the sharp pain in my chest, I know what she is thinking. Her daughter is eight and she’s imagining all the ways those cunts have hurt her.

“I had a son,” I say quietly. I feel her gaze on me as I stare ahead at the water.

“Had?”

I smile sadly and nod. “He was perfect, so pure, so handsome and born sleeping.” I hear her sharp intake of breath but push on. “They stole him from me—Karl, Nolan, Fin, Ron and Donald all hurt my baby boy and will fucking pay for what they did to my son. I will make their deaths slow and painful.”

“He used to visit me, you know.”

I frown. “Who?”

“Karl.” My face slackens. “He stopped coming to see me when I turned seventeen, he was over me then because I was no longer a child.”

Disgust rolls through me, I fight back the bile from rushing up my throat. “I’d rather shit in my hand and clap than ever think about the vile things he has done to women over the years.” Her laughter booms out around us and I can’t help but smile. When she snorts I lose the battle and begin to laugh with her. Our laughter cuts off the moment we hear someone approaching. We both jump to our feet and turn to see Trey coming toward us.

“Catch you later, shit clapper.” I smirk at Kimber as she heads back to the others. Trey stops a few feet away from me, I can feel the dread rolling off him in waves.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

I scoff. “It’s hard to find things to make you laugh when your life is a clusterfuck of events that are out of your control.”

“I promised him I would find him, Doxy. I’m going after him tomorrow.”

“You really give a fuck about Xander?” I ask in disbelief.

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