Page 74 of Daughter of a Monster

Spit flies from my mouth as I speak. “You will tell me where she is!”

“And if I don’t?” His words are strangled by my fingers.

“Then you’ll stay here and rot while I make your daughter pay for the sins of her father.” I let go of him and get to my feet. He stays lying on the ground. “Tell me, what are some of the things you used to do to Hope? I feel like I need ideas.”

“You touch her and you won’t get a word out of me.”

“But how will you know if I’m touching her? You’re locked away here with no escape and she’s the same. She’s locked in a room right now, waiting for my return. We were rather rudely interrupted during my last visit. I didn’t get to finish.”

A sound emits from his throat but I’m not sure if it’s growl or a strangled cry. Part of me would like to just end this now. Grab a knife and run it across his throat. I wouldn’t feel guilty about it. He deserves everything he gets. He’s different from Berkley. His sins are his own.

“Think about it,” I command. “Think about all the things you did to those women, to Hope or Iris as you called her, and then imagine them done to Everly. I can’t wait to touch her again. Her skin is so soft. So flawless. Mind you, you just said Hope had scars, didn’t you? Maybe I need to ensure Everly has the same.” I crouch in front of him and shove my sleeves up my arms, almost bouncing on my feet. “And it doesn’t really matter how long it takes to get the truth out of you. I’ve waited years. I can wait more. I’m in no hurry. But just remember everything that you did. Think of everything that Everly will be experiencing until you confess.” My eyes scan the mess he’s left spilling from the bucket. “Clean that up,” I order, and then I walk from the room.

“Don’t give him any more food until I tell you otherwise,” I say to the guard in the security room. “The bastard’s made one heck of a mess in there. You’ll need to ensure it gets cleaned up.”

I don’t wait for his response and instead stalk back down the corridor. The need to see Berkley is strong. It’s like there’s something inside of her that calls to me. Speaks to my soul.

I had everything figured out, everything except myself. It never occurred to me that I could fall for her. That she could ensnare me like she has. There is nothing left to do other than to tell her the truth.

She’s perched on the edge of the bed when I walk in. She looks at me with curiosity and confusion. I don’t blame her. Even I’m confused by my actions. I’ve locked her away, assaulted her, kissed her, run away from her and brought her to orgasm. And she was fucking beautiful when it happened. A flush crept over her body and my blood thickened with the knowledge that I was the one who did it. That it was under the pressure of my tongue, my body.

She gets to her feet, taking a step back to place the edge of the bed between us as though it will offer some sort of protection. Unlike last time, she doesn’t walk toward me, she doesn’t touch me. It’s clear to see she doesn’t trust me. She shouldn’t. I don’t trust me either.

“I just came to talk,” I say with a sigh of resignation.

She nods and lowers herself to the bed again, but her body is taut, poised to leap away if I come too near despite the vicious bruising of her ankle.

I take a deep breath before I start talking, reconciling myself to reliving the facts, as basic as they are when I tell them. “We were on holiday. She went to get coffee and never came back.”

I flick a hesitant glance her way. Her body has relaxed a little but she’s still holding herself back, unsure of the truth of my words.

“Ette was only a toddler. She barely remembers her now but Mrs Bellamy and I do what we can to keep her memory alive.” I take a deep breath, gathering the courage I need to continue. “I searched for her for years. The police were useless, basically telling me that there was nothing they could do. They had no leads, no idea of if she was taken, if she was in an accident or if she simply ran away. But I knew she would’ve never have done that. She loved Ette too much.” I clear my throat. “She loves Ette too much.”

Berkley opens her mouth, but then she pauses and just closes it again, deciding against saying whatever it was she was going to say. For some reason, the action stings. She doesn’t trust me and I don’t blame her. I’ve given her no reason to, but at the same time, I want her to look at me and know I’m speaking the truth. I want those eyes to rest on me with admiration, not suspicion. I keep talking with an uneasy feeling resting in the pit of my stomach. I’m telling her the truth, but I’m not telling her all of it. I can’t. Not yet.

“For months, there was simply nothing, no word, nothing. And then finally the police contacted me to tell me they’d discovered she’d been taken by a human trafficking ring.” I shove my hands deep into my pockets and start pacing. It’s almost as though I don’t want to look at her as I speak. I don’t want to see the doubt in her gaze.

“They weren’t telling me to give me any hope of her return, they were telling me so I’d stop trying to look, stop pestering them. But I didn’t. Eventually some information regarding her whereabouts began to trickle back to me. She was back in the country. She’d been given to some wealthy man to use for his pleasure.”

“My father,” she utters quietly.

I risk looking at her. She’s staring at me through eyes wide with horror as though she can see the pain that I try to hide so deeply. But there’s also hesitation there. So I keep going.

“No one knew who or even where, so I attempted to integrate myself into the scene, get information where I could. I allowed myself to become the sort of person I despise in order to save her. I’ve traveled all over the world, most of the time following pointless leads. I’ve spent just about all the money I have trying to find her. I’ve attended sex parties and auctions. I’ve beaten people and taken beatings. I’ve done things which I’ll never forgive myself for, all in the name of finding Hope. Sometimes I wonder, if I do manage to find her, will she recognize the person I’ve become.”

Lowering myself to the bed, I sit close, but not close enough to touch. The warmth of her calls out to me but I hold myself back.

“I followed empty lead after empty lead until finally, someone was willing to speak. Someone who had briefly seen her in the company of your father. That was a few years ago, right before he went to prison. I was almost annoyed he got caught. It stopped everything. I came so close and then any hope of getting near him was ripped away. He was more protected in prison than he was out. It wasn’t until I heard there was the possibility of him getting a retrial that I came up with the plan of taking you both. I knew I’d be able to get to him if I had you. I knew you were one of the only people in his life he truly loved.”

“He doesn’t love me.” She shifts closer. “He doesn’t love anyone but himself.”

I clear my throat, feeling awkward in my confession. “But the thing is, I never counted on, well, on feeling the way I do about you. Your father took someone special from me. I thought it would be easy to hate you, to use you to make him talk, but I know now that I could never be that man. I don’t want to be that man.”

She swallows and I watch the bob of her throat, getting transfixed by it, by the softness of her skin, the smoothness of her neck.

“We’re on the same team. We—”

“The same team?” Her voice is quiet but determined, the flash of aggression back in her eyes. “How can we be on the same team? You tricked me into coming here. You lied to me. You hid things from me and when I found out about them you locked me up.”

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