Page 36 of What Lies Within

"Why?" Her brow furrows, arms folded over the pale blue T-shirt that drapes on her buxom frame. Strips of black leather hang on either side where her vest sits open over the top.

I glance down at the keyring in my palm and sigh.Fuck it.How do I explain that everywhere I look, I'm smacked in the face with the sum of all my fuck ups? I can't turn a corner without being reminded of where I am, why I am, and, worst of all,whatI am.

“Those two upset you, huh?” She edges into the room. “Or was it the visitor we got today?”

“You saw him, huh?”

“Honey,” she coos with gentle admonishment. “You invite the son of our main pain in the ass over for coffee and cake, and we’re gonna take note.” She stops before me, head and shoulders taller than I am, especially when I slump against the cabinet behind me. “Why’s he here?”

“Figure he can help us find Maddie.”

She makes a gentle grunt in the back of her throat. “That so? He’s never been amicable to us before. You the reason why that’s different?”

I huff a laugh. "Not that I can understand why. He'll do nearly anything for me, and yet he fucking held me captive and tortured me.”

"What'd he do?" Her face falls, her chin a little higher, as she waits for my explanation.

"Bound me. Starved me. Drip-fed me water. Kept me away from sunlight so that I couldn't track time. Kept asking me the same damn questions even though I told him the same fucking answers over and over."

“He lay hands on you?”

“Grabbed me by the hair and jerked me around. Pushed me over.” I shrug. “That kind of stuff.”

“But he didn’t use his knives?” Sweetie frowns. “No fists. Didn’t cut you, shoot you…” She swallows. “Rape you.”

I lift my head and meet her eye. “No.”

Lips flattening, she exhales. “Honey. He didn’t torture you. That was a man keeping you safe.”

“What?” The skin between my eyes hurts with how hard I screw up my face.

"Connor's notorious for using those knives, especiallyto get information." She perks up as though excited at a breakthrough. "If you ever want to know how, visit McLeary down at the gas station on Fourth. Ask him what happened before he decided to go straight. He might even show you the scars."

“You think because Connor didn’tcutme, he was keeping me safe?”

“I know he was.” She sighs out her nose again, lifting her hands a little before slapping them against the outside of her thighs. “I don’t expect you to understand it, honey, but living on this side of the thin blue line, things aren’t as straightforward as they are in the civ world. People do things that seem backward in going forward. They do things that seem one way when they’re another. You ever ask Connor why he took you in like that?”

“He said he did it so his father wouldn’t.”

She snaps her fingers. “Right there. He admitted it.”

My lips twitch, yet I don’t say anything as I study Sweetie. Is she right? After what Connor said about keeping Ronan off my back,didhe take me in to save me worse at the hands of his father?Fuck.If I thought my goddamn thoughts were soup before, they’re a running puddle now.

"You okay?" Sweetie ducks her head, leveling our gaze.

I shrug. “I don’t know. Things are… complicated. Even before all of this.”

“How so?”

I search the darker flecks of her blue eyes, hunting for a clue that I can trust her. That she cares enough to know. To hear me out. "It doesn't matter." I've trusted people before, and it's blownup in my face. Today isn't the day to divulge my every goddamn weakness. "So, will you tell them?" I jingle the keys between us.

She draws a deep breath, arms folding over her chest once more. "Not if you take me." Sweetie turns, opening a cupboard door to the right of the gun racks. "And this." She reaches inside and pulls out a handgun, checking the magazine before slotting it inside.

"You don't need to come," I say, eyeing the weapon in her hand. Could I use that if I had to? I've never fired a gun. Never wanted to. "I'll only be fifteen, tops."

“And it takes two to snatch you.” She jams the gun in the back of her waistband and motions for the keys. “Tyke will have my hide for this, but I’ve been in your shoes before.” I don’t get a chance to ask what she means before she continues. “You’ve got an hour before I need to be back to prep lunch, so let’s get moving.”

She turns, heading for the door, the patch on her back coming into full view. I note the distinct rockers stating, “Property of” and then the club. But no member’s name. No man on her back.

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