Page 49 of The Devil's Den

I inch back so I can peer at her. “I love you like you’re my mom.” I sniffle with a sob. “You’ve always been there for me. Without you, I would’ve died a long time ago.”

“If anything…” She places a palm against my cheek. “You’re the one who savedme.”

“Then I guess we saved each other.” A crestfallen smile glides up my mouth.

“That we did.” She nods, tightening her arms around me. “That we did.”

Minutes trickle by, or maybe seconds, all I know is I’m content, knowing the warmth of a mother I never had. “How did you live through what happened to you…there?” I stare up. “Will I ever be okay?”

“You take it a day at a time. You tell yourself they don’t define you. They’re nothing. You hear me?”

“Yeah.” A heavy sigh causes my shoulders to slump.

“Robby misses you,” she goes on. “He keeps asking about you every second. I guess I’m not good enough.” She rolls her eyes with tearful laughter, and a flicker of one falls out of me too.

“He loves you, you know. Matteo? He’s crazy worried about you.” Her attention scatters to the notes left behind. “You should read them, then you should go see him while you still can.”

My heart leaps. “What do you mean?”

“I just… With your father, time is precious. He may change his mind and send Matteo away or—”

“Or kill him.”

“I don’t even want to think about it because I love that boy too. He’ll always be a little boy to me.” A fond smile grips the edge of her lips. “Go see him. He needs you just as much as you need him.”

“I can’t.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “He’s going to want to know what happened and I don’t have the heart to tell him.”

“I have a feeling he’d be patient and understanding. If you explain that you don’t want to talk, he won’t pressure you. I think he just wants to see you walking and talking for himself.”

My gaze goes downcast, riddled with shame I know I shouldn’t feel, yet I do. The weight of it is heavy. I don’t know how to get rid of it.

“You have us, Aida. You’re not alone in this. Your father doesn’t get to own us.” She raises her chin. “He may think he does, but one day, he’ll realize how wrong he actually was. Every tyrant eventually falls on his own sword.”

“I wish I believed that.”

“You have to believe it. Don’t give up. That’s what he wants.”

I suck in a sharp inhale, wanting to trust that he’ll find damnation one day. But how long can I be patient?

“Hey, look at me.” And I do. “Youwillbe okay. Youwillsurvive. Your battle scars may be deep and they still bleed, but you’re a warrior. And warriors don’t give up, no matter how many battles they have to face.”

I let out a quiet sob, closing my eyes, letting the agony envelop me so completely, I can’t see beyond it. My body trembling, I cry with a heavy ache encroached upon my soul.

And she’s there, holding me, like she’s been holding me since I’ve been a little girl, because someone had to. And she doesn’t stop until my tears do too.

* * *

I pick up the first folded-up note, written from the same paper I gave him for his drawings. He tore them into squares, folding them up so they’re easily transported to me without my father seeing.

My fingertips tingle as I open his message.

I love you.

With a whimper, I read the next one.

I miss you like crazy. If you can’t see me, I understand. But I needed you to know I won’t stop loving you, no matter what.

Tears slip down onto the paper, pooling at the center. Could he really love me after what they did to me? I pick up the other note.

---