Page 19 of The Freedom in Captivity

This is it. Do it. This is the time to admit our past to him. I’d already decided to do this, and it takes opening my mouth three different times for the truth to finally be spoken aloud. Guilt or maybe regret makes this difficult. So far, only Rozelyn and I have been privy to the truth, but now, it’ll be shared. Shame that I have this past. That of all women who’ve become our enemy, it’sher.

“Sir,” I continue before he has a chance to reply to my previous explanation, “I need to admit something to you. Iknowher from my past. She wasn’t a De Falco when I met her. Or, at least, it’s not what she called herself. We were in high school, and it was months before your parents took me in. She was a new student, and we became…” The next word scrapes up my throat, the admittance rough to hear. The recognition of what once was. “Friends.”

Nico’s poker face has always been one of the best, but for once, his shock isn’t hidden. At his side, Della’s mouth falls into an O before her brows furrow and she glances away to the side. If she’s trying to figure out a timeline, she won’t. When Della entered the De Falcos’ lives, I was long out of Rozelyn’s.

“You didn’t say anything,” Nico states after a complete ten seconds. Enough time for my nerves to tighten, for my instincts to rise, for the blade strapped to my thigh to become tempting, if I need to defend myself against the guy I’ve trained alongside of.

“I am now.”

Nico meets my challenging stare with a slight incline of his chin.

“Until yesterday, I didn’t know who she was. When I met her, she told me her name was Bray. Guess it’s what she was enrolled into my school under, probably to hide her real identity. I knew her for that one year and then she told me goodbye, and I never saw her again. When you brought her in, despite the same first name, I didn’t think they were one and the same. The moment Rosen removed the bag over her head, I put everything together. I’m telling you so you know I’m not hiding shit from you, sir. I do not care about her. She’s your enemy, therefore she’s mine as well.Unisciti a leale. Muori leale.” Join loyal. Die loyal—the Corsetti motto. “I’m a Corsetti soldier. She’s a De Falco. That’s all there is to it.”

At the end of my tirade, Nico’s only response is a tip of his head, a sign of acceptance, and a single question: “Can you do this, Flynn? Can I have faith in you torturing the truth from her or will you get caught up in old feelings?”

“What old feelings?” I counter. “She hurt me then; she’s hurting me now. The bitch pays and that’s all there is to it.”

“Very well. Unless you have more to add, you’re dismissed. Thank you, Flynn.”

Without saying goodbye to either of them, I return inside, heading straight to my room where I crawl into bed without showering or changing. I lie right where she was hours before and ignore how her scent already faintly clings to the room.

I ignore the past.

No more games. I won’t get caught up in her.

Rozelyn

Being the new girl sucks, and that’s how I’ve found myself sitting outside alone during lunchtime, waiting impatiently for the bell to ring. At least being in class will give me something to do.

Three days into public school and I’m still trying to figure out why I begged my parents to let me come here. Public school kids are assholes. I left private school friends forthis?

The September breeze passes over me. Warm from the leftover summer temperatures still lingering, but chilly nonetheless as fall creeps up. I cross my arms, curling my shoulders inward. I have a sweater in my locker but didn’t think to grab it before coming out here.

Cars pass the school and from my perch on the wooden bench, I’ve been counting their colours as they drive by. So far, in the past ten minutes, there’s been three red cars, eight black ones, two white, and a blue.

This is what my life has become, apparently. Sitting alone, counting cars while I ignore the rowdy crowd, not even twenty feet away from me, where they hang by the smoke pit. It’s on the edge of school property, where the staff allow students to smoke, while not being too near the building.

I suppose I’ve nearly encroached on their territory. But out here, I can avoid the unwanted, curious stares of people inside.

Still, this is a bit of freedom from the binds Mom and Dad force me to wear. Mom, for being from a prominent mafia family, and Dad, for creating us to be one, both putting a lot of pressure on me.

My gaze dives from the next car driving by—a silver one—to the dark mark on my wrist. Sometimes Dad uses too much pressure. He was drunk two nights ago and I’m not sure why he was upset.

When feet crunch over the fallen leaves, I cover the bruise with my free hand and curl them both onto my lap as I prepare my best fuck-off expression to whoever’s checking out the new kid before they deem me not good enough.

Everyone took one look at me, at my designer jeans, the Louis Vuitton purse, and fresh highlights, and quickly assumed I’m not worthy of the lower-class school I insisted on attending.

The guy approaching is fucking huge. His unwelcoming expression mirrors mine, yet he continues, his gait slow and measured as though giving me the opportunity to run.

Smoke billows from the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen on a guy as he lowers the cigarette from his mouth. I’ve never believed such a gross act could look sexy, but this guy succeeds in making it so.

Intense dark eyes study me. They flick over my form, my face, down to where I’m holding my wrist. They’re compelling…beautiful. Entrapping to the point I don’t want to run away. Not when I need to hear the voice accompanying those eyes.

Without waiting for permission, he drops onto the bench beside me with a thud. His legs spread wide, his back reclines, and worse, he props his arm against the bench, his hand inches from my hair.

Um.I scoot over an inch, glaring at the small space between us because he takes up so much of the bench. The stranger’s lips curl around the cigarette in his mouth, but he doesn’t comment on me trying to expand the distance between us.

If this is some fucked-up claim on the bench and he thinks he can scare me off, that’s not happening. His sheer size and hulking personality, even when I haven’t spoken to him, indicates someone who could easily be a psycho, but I live with one of those, so he can’t be worse.

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