Page 84 of Devotion

“I… finally did the right thing, Layla.”

With the room too dark to see his expression, the quiver in his voice is the only indicator that he’s emotional.

The lights grow brighter out front as the vehicle pulls closer. It feels like what little air is left in my lungs is sucked out when the back door slams open, and the moment I turn, seeing four armed men in masks rushing into our home, a needle pricks my neck.

I spin again, this time facing my father as he lowers the syringe, feeling the sting of betrayal as our gazes lock.

“Dad, I—”

Words fail me. My eyelids and limbs grow heavy. If it weren’t for a set of arms catching me from behind, I would’ve hit the ground. This someone is strong, easily hoisting me over their shoulder.

“What should we do withhim?” someone asks, then the next voice I hear is my father’s.

“Wait. Wait! What the hell is this? I thought you were officers.”

Half a second later, there’s a short scuffle, then the sound of a swatch of tape stretching and ripping. After that, Dad’s voice becomes small and muffled.

“Bring him,” the one holding me says as I drift off. “Knock him out if you have to. And grab thosefuckingpictures.”

A loud thud accompanies the pained groan that rumbles in my father’s throat, then he’s silent as I hear the photos being gathered from the table.

“We don’t have much time. They’re almost to the front door,” a voice calls out. It causes tension to tighten the shoulder pressed against my abdomen as I hang upside down, limp against his back.

Their steps move quickly across the kitchen tile, out through the back door, and then out into the rain as the edges of my vision go dark. I’m starting to slip into a deep, heavy sleep, but a whispered promise reaches my ears first. One that brings both confusionandcomfort.

“You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you again.”

* * *

Total darkness, a warm blanket over my shoulders, and a soft, familiar scent.

My head rests comfortably in someone’s lap as a vehicle bounces and sways over uneven terrain. The drugs in my system make it hard to move, but my mind is determined. I need to see where I am, see that I’m not in any immediate danger.

I lift my head only to have a gentle hand come down around me.

“Careful. Not too quickly,” a deep voice croons. A voice Irecognize.

“Damien?”

“I’m here. I’ve got you.”

What the hell is happening?

The last thing I remember is the glow of red and blue lights flashing through the dining room window, along with my father making some half-assed excuse for why he thought it necessary to get the police involved. It stings, cuts deeper than any other betrayal I’ve felt. There wasn’t even a second thought that his assumption might be wrong or that throwing me to the wolves wasn’t the only way.

As if sensing that I’m in distress, Damien strokes my arm with his thumb, cradling me in his arms as the van cuts a hard left. I’m groggy, and it takes a moment to remember more, but then it all comes rushing back.

That Damien withheld large parts of his story.

That I’m likely little more than a means to an end for him.

He doesn’t seem to notice when my posture stiffens, suddenly feeling less at ease than I’d been a moment ago.

“Where are you taking me?”

My voice sounds strained and weak, and it’s triggering, reminding me of my past. A past spent sedated with heavy meds, so I’d be easier to control, easier to contain.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be safe. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

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