Page 152 of Where the Wicked Reign

“Damn.”

“A lot has changed since those days.”

“So much that it’s a lot to even begin to wrap your head around, yeah?”

“It definitely is,” she admitted, giving a little glimpse into her vulnerability over it all.

I let go of her hand and wrapped my arm around her instead, tucking her into my side. “You’re not alone anymore. We’re here to help. We’ll figure it all out together.”

“I’d like that,” she said, sinking into me.

Emotion clogged my throat at her actually being open and letting me in, trusting me, instead of throwing up a wall or hiding how she really felt about it all.

It was such a precious thing for somebody like her to offer up.

I kissed the top of her head. “We’ve got you. We’ve got each other. That’s what it means to be a part of us, Cat. To be ours.”

Unfortunately, my phone buzzed, cutting into the heartfelt moment between us. I cursed myself for not turning off my notifications for the night—at least my social media notifications.

“Is that the boys?” she asked.

“No.” The sound was different and distinctive to me. “Just comments, messages, and all that coming in from my IG. Sunday is usually a big night for me posting new content, recapping my week and all the apparentlyexcitingthings I’ve been up to. My followers andCarver Babesare just wondering where I am.”

Amusement danced in her eyes. “Wow. I see.”

“Yeah, it’s a whole thing.”

She stared at me intently. “You need to keep busy always, don’t you? Many distractions are necessary for you?”

“Yeah,” I admitted.

“To keep your mind off certain things?” she pushed, albeit very carefully.

I put the pieces together, realizing where this was coming from. “This is about what you heard Milo say concerning being triggered when he and Nico went to meet with the Lone Gunners that first time years back?”

She nodded. “Your father hurt you, didn’t he? Badly.”

I swallowed hard. “He did. For many years.”

“Was he the cause of the scars on your back? I saw them when we came together that night, interspersed amongst those beautiful black angel wings spanning the length of your back.”

Instead of focusing on that, I told her, “Those wings I had inked as a symbol of me escaping all of that, of soaring above it and moving forward.”

“That’s beautiful.” She caressed my shirt as we continued walking together with her tucked into my side. “I’m so sorry you had to go through something like that. You’ve built an amazing life for yourself since those dark days, so much to be proud of. It’s a hell of an inspiration.”

“Thank you,” I said, kissing the top of her head. “Maybe we’ll get into the details of what happened back then some other time. But for now, I want to keep things positive for you after everything you went through today.”

And I needed to cast out the skin-crawling sensation that had afflicted me since we’d veered down that conversational path.

“Okay,” she agreed, getting that I couldn’t go into it anymore right now.

Fortunately, as we made our way down the corridor, our shoes clacking on the bold and sleek black marble floor, melding well with the dark gray walls that were broken up with striking black and white geometric patterned wallpaper every few feet, we reached Milo’s room.

“First stop on our tour,” I said, pushing open the door and leading her inside. “The bedroom of our powerhouse babe, Emilio Bardi,” I announced with a dramatic flourish.

The sweetest little giggle escaped her, making me grin.

The gray wall theme was continued inside, just like with all the bedrooms in the mansion, but the framed bright and multicolored images broke it up a hell of a lot, each photo of a fantastical creature that Milo was fond of—dragons, witches, phoenixes, elves.

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