Page 28 of Ugly Truths
Her words slip into my veins, burning me from the inside out.
“What else did you lie about?” She demands, tilting her head in the same predatory way Silas did when we spoke days ago. My body remembers how he grabbed my face, and I press myself further into the wall. “Your hobbies? Your stories? Did you fake every laugh at my jokes? Compliment me just to get me to trust you? Snoop through my things when I wasn’t looking?”
I want to tell her no, but I can’t.
Natalie watches me, waiting for some kind of defense, but when I say nothing, she starts up again. “What do you have to say for yourself?” she demands, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, body vibrating.
The quiet between us is so loud that my ears ring. As much as I want to look away from her wrath, I don’t deserve to. She needs to show me her pain, and I need to see all of it.
My fingers curl around the sheets at my sides. “I did all of those things. There’s no excuse or justification. I won’t insult you by trying to offer one.” I take a shaky breath. “But I am sorry. For everything I put you through, for every lie and choice that hurt you. If I could undo it, I would.”
My words mean nothing, and I know it. I wish she would believe me, if only to save herself from any more heartache than necessary.
God knows I’m not worth any of it.
“I’ll answer all of those questions and any others you still want to ask.” My throat tightens, but I push through it. “And hopefully, you’ll help ensure my friend’s safety. He was dragged into my mess when he shouldn’t have been, and all I want is for him to go home.”
Natalie’s jaw works as she processes my words, arms now folded so tightly over herself, I can see the indents her fingers are making on theopposite biceps. After several long moments, she blinks, huffing out a defeated breath.
“I don’t even know what to do with this.” She gestures with her perfectly manicured hand towards me. “With you.” As if she’s trying to clear her thoughts, she shakes her head. “Now I get to sit here and listen to you tell me that I was just, what? A means to an end?”
“You don’t have to do anything,” I admit, curling my knees into my chest and wrapping my arms around them. The pressure feels good—like it’s keeping my insides from spilling out onto the floor. “As long as Luis can leave safely, you can ask me anything you want or nothing at all.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I force myself to meet her eyes again. “I’m not asking for understanding or forgiveness. I just need you to believe this was all my own doing. Luis only got involved to help me hide from my handler.” I shift slightly, my shoulders pressing harder against the cold wall behind me. “You’re a good and fair person. I know you’ll keep your word.”
Her eyes flick over my face like she’s searching for something, but whatever she’s looking for, she doesn’t find it. “I don’t even know if I want to hear what you have to say,” she admits. “Because it’s not going to change the fact that none of it was real, is it?”
Still, she reaches behind her for one of the chairs, sliding it closer to the mattress and sitting. Davey, taking her cue, drags the two remaining chairs towards Silas and mimics her actions. I don’t even bother looking at Silas—his sister's glare is more than enough hatred for me to handle right now.
“But I’m here,” she says flatly. “So talk.”
Chapter 13
Silas
I’ve lasted in this room longer than I expected. Seeing Elena cleaned up had eased some of the lingering guilt, but it did nothing to cool the fury burning through me since my visit to Luis’s holding room.
Cillian really did a number on him. Luis was still tied to a chair—silly me for forgetting to instruct the team to make him more comfortable. It must have slipped my mind.
His face was a mess of deep purple bruises, his arms marked with nicks and gashes. There was even a raw indentation around his pinky and thumb where Cillian had threatened to sever them with an industrial-grade crimper. Still, the bastard hadn’t lost all hope. There was fight left in his eyes when I walked in.
His first mistake was demanding to know where Elena was. As if he had a right. As if anyone butmehad a right.
The way he cares for her was written all over his stupid, battered face, and he still had the nerve to deny any relationship between them. I only started to believe it when I asked if it was unrequited love. His glare told me everything.
The twisted satisfaction I felt from that was something I wasn’t ready to unpack.
I only visited to inform him of the deal Elena struck with Davey and that I’d return after she and Natalie spoke to discuss theconditions of his release. The entire interaction was forgettable. Except for his parting words.
“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” Luis spat, lunging forward as far as the ropes allowed, dried blood splitting on his skin. “If you’re in here pressing me, you haven’t even asked her. She tore herself to pieces trying to protect you and your sister.”
With a bitter laugh, he looked me dead in the eyes. “You don’t deserve El. You never have. I hope to God she sees that now that you’ve done this to her.”
I blink, forcing Luis’s words from my mind, but they linger like a splinter beneath the skin.
El.
The way he said the nickname grates on me. It was so casual. Intimate.
