Page 74 of Unspoken Promises

He puts his hand on my knee. “You can tell me everything.”

And I want to now. Telling him will put me on the path to erasing Lucy forever. It’s the last step to knowing I won’t be caught and that I’m not leading danger to this wonderful town and this beautiful man. There were enough guns in Father’s compound to take down a town of this size. And I sure as hell know plenty of his guys were more than happy to use them.

“When I was eleven, my mom took me to a place and said I would stay with Father.”

“You mean your father?”

“She just said Father but… yes, I guess so.” It never occurred to me before that he wouldn’t be, and it was so long ago, I can’t even be certain she didn’t say he was mine. Still, in all the years of being there, Anton never saidyourfather either.

“My mom never came back. That much I told you about me is totally true. She just left.” The pain I’m usually so good at burying crawls up through the weeds. I’ll neverunderstand how she could have done that to me. Why she wouldn’t want me.

“In the years in between, I was kept in a compound and I wasn’t allowed to leave.” I pause because it’s so heavy and unreal to say. “Ever.”

It’s clear he never considered that as one of my secrets. “Ever?”

“Not until they let me go to college. And there, well, I saw your contest, won, and…”

“Did they hurt you?” His features quickly carve from concerned to vengeful. “Who was he? Who is your father?”

“I don’t know.”

Rage shifts over his gaze. “Who did this to you?”

A surge of protectiveness fills the space between us.

I never thought this could affect him as much… his body is rigid with rage. But the strange reality of my life was that, though I knew Father was an evil man who killed people, I didn’t really know who he was.

“I honestly don’t know who he is. I never even saw his face. Over the years, I assumed, by the amount of guns around…” I dip my chin and wring my hands. The words don’t come easy. “He had people killed by his guards. Which… I had to watch. He was a bad man, and all I ever thought was he had to be a cartel or mob leader of some sort. The place I lived was a walled compound with armed guards everywhere. Maybe there was a drug factory or arms trade. There was something important behind those walls. Including me.”

“You really don’t know his name?” Enzo’s mind is already halfway down the road to raining down hellfire.

I take too long to answer. He wraps his strong hands around my arms, bracing me in front of him. “You must have some idea who kept you?”

I know now the deep place from which Enzo fights for justice and the way his face twists between pain and revenge offers me more peace than he’ll ever know. He’s on my side. I feel it in my bones.

“I truly don’t know who Father is, but I wasn’t ever physically harmed. I mean, it was traumatic and stressful. I saw things I’m not sure I’ll ever recover from.” The men that left this world at their executions in that basement will haunt my soul forever.

“I worried for my safety because I knew people were harmed at his command, but in some ways I had the weirdly privileged life. I was well educated and given high-quality clothes and living quarters. I lived in poverty with my mom before that, so by comparison, captivity was a mansion with all the food in the world and the heat was on all the time. But… Father would make sure I never tried to leave by showing me what would happen if I did. I…”

Shame saturates my veins and weighs me down. My stomach churns, and the cotton candy I had at the fair threatens to reappear. “I did a lot of things while I was in the compound. My teachers called them tasks but…” I can’t face him when I admit the worst. “I’m sometimes afraid I committed crimes or did things online I didn’t realize were…” Tears prick my eyes. “illegal.”

When I dare meet his gaze, I don’t find the disgust I expect to see. Instead, Enzo looks pained, features soft with compassion.

I add, “I did a background check on Lucy Murphy, and it came up clean.”

He reaches out and takes my hands. “That’s the least of my concerns right now.”

His jaw clenches in vengeance, and I feel the same way. But I worry about shifting his feelings in part two of my tale.

“I had one really good thing there, and that was my uncle.”

“The one you’ve spoken about?”

I nod. “He was my guardian, tasked with taking care of me. The only reason I’m not completely, thoroughly messed up is because of his kindness.” My words come out faster, almost nervous; I’m anticipating at any moment Enzo will cut me off for saying what sounds so ridiculous. “He was very, very good to me. We were friends. I know he loved me. And I loved him. He was the only family I really feel like I’ve known…”

Enzo cuts me off. “You have Stockholm syndrome.”

“You’re wrong,” I say more sharply and violently than I intend. I knew this would happen. “I know in my gut that Anton was a good man. I don’t know why he was there but…”

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