Page 38 of Taming Seraphine

“I left the house and ran across the grounds to where Felix lived.”

“Who is Felix?”

“Our driver.”

“Did he help you?”

She shakes her head. “Felix said the cops wouldn’t come because Dad was too powerful. He said if I wanted to leave, he would take me anywhere.”

In frustration, she fists handfuls of her hair, trying to tear it out by the roots. “I should have stayed. I should have shot the men and gotten my throat slit.”

“Seraphine.” I grab her hands and squeeze them until her fingers straighten and she releases her grip on her hair. Her skin is clammy and hot, as though she’s reliving the moment. “You were a child. Nothing you could have done would have saved her.”

The second she lets go of her hair, she slams her head into the table with a force that makes me flinch.

Shit.

I rush to my feet and pull her into my arms. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Seraphine lashes out with her fists, trying to fight me off, but I hold tighter, letting her fight and rage until her punches slow and her body collapses.

My lungs deflate with a sigh. I understand these feelings all too well. Powerlessness, guilt, and rage. Three poisonous emotions that she’s held in her soul for half a decade. She’s probably just replayed that night over and over, cursing herself for not acting differently. It’s no surprise that she killed Billy Blue and moved onto all the others. Her anger wasn’t toward a lone assailant or even a trio. It was toward an entire group of men.

“Don’t blame yourself. You did what you had to do to survive,” I murmur into her hair.

“No, you don’t understand. I asked Felix to take me to Nanna, and then Dad...” She exhales an anguished cry that makes the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Dad came the next morning with those men and took us both. Now, Nanna and Mom are dead because of me.”

My breath hitches.

Seraphine pulls back, her eyes bloodshot. “Let go of me. I want to go to bed.”

FOURTEEN

LEROI

I thought I knew what I was getting into when I rescued the frail blonde girl from the Capello basement, but the extent of Seraphine’s trauma goes deeper than her imprisonment and the abuse suffered at the hands of her own family.

Now I understand why she lashed out at Monica. Two women she loved were murdered. The rage and hopelessness that must have built up over the years had to be unbearable. Dredging up a memory like that would drive anyone to violence.

My arms slip free from around her shoulders, and she rises from the chair to walk around the table.

“Wait,” I say.

Her steps falter, but she doesn’t turn to meet my gaze.

“Did Capello ever explain his actions?”

She casts me a sidelong glance over her shoulder. “The dead man was our bodyguard, Raphael.”

I nod, my brows furrowing, already suspecting where this is going. “So Capello found out he was having an affair with your mother. How?”

“Dad needed a liver transplant, and he had us both tested. When my DNA didn’t match his, he tested Raphael’s against mine, and found out that Mom had been unfaithful.”

Shit

Without another word, Seraphine crosses the living room and disappears behind her door.

She feels responsible for involving her grandmother into this mess, so much so that she’s prepared to slam her own head into the table.

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