Page 61 of The Colour of Revenge
Kai:Yeehaw!
Before I can respond, another message pops up—Carina's custom alert.
Queen Carina:Lying in bed, trying to sleep.
Something in me settles. Without thinking, I hit the call button.
She answers after a single ring, her face lighting up my screen.
"Hey," she murmurs, her voice soft and edged with sleep.
"Hi, Princess." The warmth in my voice surprises even me.
"What's up?"
"Just wanted to hear your voice."
A soft laugh. "You saw me, what? An hour ago?"
"Too long."
She laughs again, light and melodic, and it cuts through me like a damn blade. Not because it hurts. Because it owns me.
I close my eyes, letting the sound of her fill the cold space around me.
Carina
"Tell me something I don't already know about you," Nate says.
His voice is low, steady—like he's asking for something simple. But nothing about me is simple.
"Like what?" I ask, even though I already know where this is going.
"Whatever you're comfortable sharing."
His words soften something inside me. I know he’s tried to search me online, digging for clues to figure me out, but he won’t find anything there. My past isn’t something you can Google.
I hesitate, fingers tightening around my phone. The silence stretches, and I almost let it swallow me. But then, the words push past my lips before I can stop them.
"From the time my father sold me at thirteen… up until I escaped at twenty… I didn't exist."
The sharp inhale on the other end is quiet, but I hear it. He doesn't say anything, doesn't interrupt. He listens.
"I was too scared to re-enter the country for almost eight years after I got out," I admit, my voice quieter now, like the confession might break if I say it too loud.
"Why?" His voice is careful. Measured. Like he knows how fragile this moment is.
"Because it's hard not to be scared, Nate." I take a slow breath, pushing through the tightness in my throat. "I'd been passed around like some kind of possession. Five different men claimed me as theirs, controlling every second of my life. I didn't even know how to think for myself. Every decision, every action… it all belonged to someone else."
The weight of memory presses down on me, thick and suffocating. I close my eyes, but the past doesn't disappear—it lingers, a ghost I can't quite shake.
"And then suddenly, I was free. Alone. Terrified. I had to figure out how to live in a world that felt completely alien to me." My nails dig into my palm, grounding me. "It took years to rebuild myself—to stop being that scared little girl."
"You don't seem scared anymore." His voice is tight and controlled, but there's something raw underneath. "At least, not most of the time."
I huff out a laugh, hollow and bitter. "You should've seen me when I first got out. I was a mess. Alone in Italy, barely any money, no skills, jumping at every shadow. I trusted no one. Not even myself."
"How did you get through it?"
