Page 165 of Endgame
“How has he been, then?”
Aurora disturbs her bottom lip. I run my thumb over the swollen flesh, soothing her.
I’m doing my best to be attentive. Patient.
But hiding my building fury won’t last.
“The worst, up until now, has been the basement.” A pause. “They’d lock me down there. For hours or days sometimes.”
The basement? Lock her up there?
For days?
My mind races, taking me to a place that isn’t this room.
In my head, I’m throwing myself into my car. Any of my vehicles. I’m speeding through the quiet streets of our neighborhood, crashing through the Clarkes’ gates.
My hands on their throats. Their corpses beneath me. I’d bring their bodies back here. Lay them at Aurora’s feet.
No. A quick death would be merciful.
Justice would be knowing they’re in pain for the rest of their lives.
Locking them up in prison would guarantee a lifetime of suffering, knowing that Aurora and I are thriving on the outside.
They’d agonize over it.
Like I have every time I laid eyes on Winston’s smug face.
“Most of the time…” Her voice lowers. She’s embarrassed. For being abused. What the fuck? “I was caged in my room.”
Aurora’s glistening eyes drive a stake through my heart.
“Caged?” My hand won’t leave her cheek, my fingers won’t stop apologizing with every stroke, every caress. “What about the Royalty meetings you went to? All those shopping trips?”
We both see my questions for what they are. I’m not calling her a liar.
They tricked me. I have to get to the bottom of this so they won’t be able to do it ever again.
“The meetings were necessary for appearance’s sake.” The grin that stretches her lips is watery.
I lean in, pressing a kiss to her mouth. To her pain. Another promise to take the pain away from her.
“They brought me there to fool everyone,” she continues. “Only once a year, so that we can look like a functional family. Anything more, and I could’ve gotten too comfortable around you and asked for help.”
My eyebrows shoot down. My soul crushes beneath the weight of the truth.
I spent years resenting everyone for falling for Winston’s act. For not seeing him for what he truly is—a violent rapist.
Turns out, the joke’s been on me all along.
“I—”
“No,” she scoffs. “Let me finish. You asked about the, um, shopping trips. I forced them to let me out, even though we all knew I was going to try to steal stuff. And I can already see it—you’re about to bring up your lawyers, aren’t you?”
“I swear to God, if they withheld this from me…”
She huffs a sad laugh. “They had no idea. I never told them I loved staying in jail overnight. The few months in prison were a vacation. Besides, my parents are influential and wealthy. No one would’ve believed me. Either that, or they would’ve ignored me. I did the best with what I had.”
