Page 49 of Don't Say A Word

Lowering her to her feet, I keep a steady hold on her as I clean her wounds. She flinches from the pain, but she doesn’t pull away. She allows me to pat her dry and lift her back into my arms.

The guilt is heavy.

She hasn’t spoken and neither have I, but her eyes have said more than her words ever could. They’re filled with need. She reaches for me when I lower her to the bed, scared that I’m leaving her alone. But my clothes are wet and she needs warmth. I peel them from my skin and dry myself with the same towel I dried her, ignoring the stains of blood and keeping them hidden as I wrap the towel around my waist. Returning to the bed, I lower myself beside her, face to face, reaching out to take her hands in mine, covering them, protecting them and pressing kisses to her cold skin. She’s shivering. Her entire body trembles.

I want to take her pain away.

I want to take her away.

She shuffles closer, bracing herself for the pain of movement. Bending her head, she presses it to my chest. I thread my bare legs through hers, hoping to lend her my warmth, wanting more than anything to tell her how fucking sorry I am.

She stays like that, her breath hitting my chest with each exhale until she pulls away from me, dark eyes peering into mine. When she reaches for me, I don’t stop her.

I can’t stop her.

She has torn away my skin and left me bare and exposed. Right now she could do anything to me and I would accept it willingly. She could plunge a knife into my heart and I would utter my thanks. She could command me to kneel and I would fall at her feet. She could threaten to chain me and I would lift my hands willingly.

But all she does is try to smooth the lines from my forehead. Her thumb presses my skin over and over as if she can erase them. Tears form in her eyes, and I pull her hands away, taking them in mine and watching her over the space of the pillow. There’s such need in her gaze. Such longing. I inch closer and press my lips to hers faintly, brushing over her pain.

The tears fall then and I lick them, wanting to take away the hurt, drinking her tears as my own. Her tears turn to sobs and I pull her close, wanting to shield her from this world. From Marcel. From Junior. Maybe even from me.

It is with her head pressed to my chest that she falls into a sleep of exhaustion. Her body jerks, reliving her attack as a nightmare. I do nothing but hold her.

I only know she’s awake from the change in her breathing. I’m scared she’ll reel away from me. Remember who I am. Instead, she pulls in a breath and says a single word.

“Why?”

I don’t need to ask what she means. I know it from the tone of her voice, from the pleading and the confusion.

Why am I doing this?

There is really only one answer I can give. The truth. The truth that no one else but the Attertons know. The truth of my past.

So I open my mouth and bare my soul.

I tell her about the flashes of memories from my childhood. The glimpses of my past that make no sense. I tell her of life on the streets, the hunger and the pain. And then I tell her how Senior saved me. Gave me a new life. A new family. A new purpose. I tell her I owe him my life. But I don’t tell her of my sister. It seems too cruel to burden her with the knowledge that her captivity ensures the freedom of another.

It hurts when she asks about my mother, but I tell her the truth. The truth that I’ve never told anyone, not even Everly.

When she speaks again, her lips brush over my chest and send tendrils of something soft and tender into my gut. “Marcel said that this is their family business. That they trade in women.”

“It’s not everything they do. They are more than that.”

“So it’s your business too?”

I pull back so I can look into her eye, pleading with her to understand. “No. I’ve never done this before. This isn’t what I would choose.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

It’s impossible to make her understand my loyalty. To make her understand that the man who ruined her life is the one who saved mine.

“I owe him everything. I owe him my life.” My words are truth and lies. A perfect contradiction, just like my relationship with the Attertons. I love them and hate them. I love them for everything they’ve done for me, for Everly, but I hate them for everything they’ve made me do.

Her next words are so quiet I barely hear them. “But you don’t owe him mine.”

It’s then that the truth tumbles from me, desperate for her understanding. “It’s not just me. I have a sister I need to look after too.”

She whispers. “Where is she?”

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