Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123575 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Color flushes her cheeks, but she doesn’t back down. “I was going to say who gave you trust. Who believed in your right to justice even while questioning your methods.”
The unexpected response throws me off-balance. I recalibrate, reinforcing my emotional walls. “Then you’re even more naive than I thought. There’s no justice to be had, Lilian. Only revenge. Only making them pay for what they did to me. For what they took from me.”
“And what about what they did to the others?” she challenges me. “The files I found showed dozens of victims. Children who disappeared into institutions like you did. Families that were destroyed. Don’t they deserve justice, too?”
They do, but not at the cost of my revenge.
“They’re not my concern.”
“They could be.” She steps closer, close enough now that I can smell the shampoo she used—my shampoo. “We could expose them. Not just what they did to you, but the whole operation. We could make it impossible for them to hurt anyone else.”
“Again,” I repeat, infusing the word with all the contempt I can muster. “There is no ‘we’ in any of this. You were always meant to be leveraged. A way to hurt Aries. Nothing more.”
The lie cuts deep—I see it in the brief flash of pain that flickers across her features. But she rallies quickly, anger replacing hurt.
“That’s a fucking lie,” she says again with even more conviction. “You promised me. Said we had a deal. My body for his freedom, remember? I held up my end.”
“And look how well that turned out for you,” I snap, patience fracturing. “Nearly raped on a concrete floor, and left for dead. Is that the kind of ‘involvement’ you’re so eager to continue forward with?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” I laugh harshly. “Nothing about this is fair. Nothing about what they did to me was fair. Nothing about what Aries did to you was fair. Welcome to reality, Little Sister. It’s uglier than your fantasies.”
She flinches at the cruelty but stands her ground. “That’s not what this is. This isn’t about fairness. This is you pushing me away because you’re afraid of getting attached.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Liar,” she says softly. “You’re terrified. Of caring about me, of letting someone in.” I don’t respond, mainly because I don’t have a response. I’m not ready to talk about my feelings for her, let alone face or put to name what we are, or could be.
“Why is it so hard to admit?” she presses, stepping closer, eliminating the careful distance I’ve maintained. “Why can’t you acknowledge that something changed between us? That for a moment, you actually let someone see the real you?”
“Because there is no real me,” I snarl, backing away. “There’s only what they created in that place. Only what the family made me.”
“Our family,” she corrects. “They hurt me, too. Different methods, same control.”
“It’s not the same,” I insist, anger building at her persistent attempts to create equivalence between her comfortable captivity and my institutional hell. “You have no idea what I endured. What they took from me.”
“Then tell me.” Her voice softens, almost pleading. “Let me understand. Let me help, Aries.” Aries. The name hangs in the air between us, a simple slip of the tongue with the impact of detonation. Aries. Aries. Aries. It’s been about him my entire fucking life. The golden boy who let me take the blame, who let me fall between the cracks.
Lilian sees where this is headed immediately. She blinks once, then twice, and it’s like she herself can’t believe the mistake she’s made.
“I meant—” she starts, but it’s too late.
Something inside me snaps, like a bone breaking beneath pressure. I no longer feel in control of myself, of my body. All I can think to do is make her see ME. Make her FEEL me. In an instant, I’m across the room. I grab her by the upper arms, my grip bruising. I know I shouldn’t hurt her, that I should be gentle with her, but I can’t be bothered by her feelings, not when she continues to call me his name, shredding me to pieces every single fucking time.
“Say it again,” I demand, voice deadly quiet. “Say his name again while looking at me.”
“Arson, I’m sorry, it was a mistake—”
“A mistake?” A laugh escapes me, the sound harsh and broken. “Ever heard of a Freudian slip? It’s the mind’s way of revealing what’s hidden beneath. Which means you’re still thinking of him. Wishing I was still him.” I snarl at her, unable to hold my anger in. “After everything he did to you.”
How could she care for him, when it’s so painfully obvious he doesn’t care for her?
Fear flashes in her eyes, but she doesn’t struggle, doesn’t try to pull away. “Don’t do this. I know what you’re thinking and it’s not true. We both know I didn’t mean to say his name.”