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ALFIE
Almost a week had passed with Petros and I holed up in his room. With each day, my wounds healed a little, and so did my broken spirit. I’d been brought to the brink of my own sanity. All of the time alone had brought my failings to the forefront of my mind. The way I ran from any form of intimacy that wasn’t fleeting. The way I made space between myself and others, always flitting from place to place whenever I got too comfortable. Avoidance.
I’d spent so many years pursuing my father’s pride in me that I’d never actually let myself analyse what I needed.
Petros lay next to me, his lashes dark against his olive skin. He didn’t have me cuffed; I could have tried to make a bid for freedom. But I had to help Harriet into Rosenhall. I couldn’t erase the past, but I could make some sort of amends to her. I could give her what she needed to find her own peace.
Between sessions of indulging in Petros’ muscular body, we’d spent hours getting to know one another. There was no denying that Petros was a much better man than I. He wore his heart on his sleeve, openly telling me of his past. He didn’t judge me despite the many mistakes I’d made.
I traced my fingers over his chest until he gave a sleepy smile and captured my hand with his own.
‘Can’t sleep?’ he said in a drowsy throatiness that made my insides churn. There was nothing he did that didn’t drive me mad with lust. Even after spending more time with him in the previous week than I had ever with anyone else.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me about this place? How did you end up down here?’
‘I found Harriet sitting on top of her abuser one night, her body bathed in his blood, stabbing him repeatedly. The only clean part of her face were the tear tracks down her cheeks. I didn’t doubt we’d both be buried beneath the patio when his family found us. So, I picked her up, and we ran.’
‘That must have been a shock,’ I said, my thumb dancing over the back of his hand.
‘It was. But more than that, I was intensely proud of her. She’d suffered so much. For years. If she hadn’t lashed out, I didn’t doubt they would have killed her. Before we left, I had to cut the tracker out of her neck, the scar remains just below her ear. She didn’t even flinch when I did it.’ Petros turned to face me, keeping a hold on my hand.
‘We didn’t know where to go. She didn’t feel like she could return to her family. She was too traceable. The others would have tracked her down and taken her. Or killed them all.’
‘She has a family?’ They must have long thought her dead but must have stayed in limbo for a long time. It sent a pang of guilt through me. She’d been dragged from her life for me. I may not have asked for it, but I was the catalyst who started her whole terrible journey.
‘I’ve checked in on them once or twice without letting her know. Just in case she ever wants to go back. Her father sadly passed not long after she left, but her mother still lives in the same house in Manchester. Her sisters have children and partners, and it looks like they’ve managed to move on from her disappearance.’ Petros’ eyes glazed a little as he spoke.
‘So home wasn’t an option?’
‘No, and my family are gone. We took to the streets. Stealing food. Begging. Fighting. Eventually, we met her friend Nancy, who spoke of someone who had a place we could call home. They showed us to this disused bunker system. It became our refuge. As the months passed, I thought Harriet would begin to heal, but she didn’t. There was too much harm done. It festered and with it, her anger grew.’
I took Petros’ hand to my lips and grazed his knuckles with a kiss. The urge to spill my affection on him was overwhelming. Usually, after sleeping with someone, I had a gut reaction to flee.
‘One day while fetching supplies, Harriet saw a man trying to force himself on one of the homeless women she knew. Without hesitation, she slit his throat. She took the woman in and offered what little we had to help her get back on her feet. Harriet saw her purpose for the first time. Eventually, rumours spread, and she got tips about people higher and higher in society. Wives who were terrified of their husbands, but knew they lacked the power to see justice. Donations came piling in as word spread. Someone was finally doing what the powerful abusers were doing, skirting around legality. She took on the name Viper for her propensity to use poison. The tattoos on her back didn’t erase the damage inflicted on her, but it let her claim it back on her terms.’
‘And you loved her through it all?’
Petros’ eyes shone as he nodded. ‘I can’t do anything but love her.’
‘It’s okay. It makes you the man you are.’
‘What if I can’t choose?’ Petros’ voice quaked, and he closed his eyes.
‘Humans don’t have a finite amount of love. Loving her doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love with me.’ Even voicing it sounded crazy. Who could possibly love me?
‘I know. I’m already deep down the rabbit hole with you.’
‘Is that a euphemism?’ I asked, lightening the moment.
‘It can be,’ he laughed, pulling me against him, and letting me lose myself in his arms.
TWENTY-SIX
HARRIET
The two of them were sickening me. Wrapped up together like two happy little bunnies during mating season. I kept telling myself it was Petros’ betrayal that made me feel so bitter, but the green vines of envy were choking me with each passing moment.
Every contented sigh or desire-fuelled moan sent me looking for an escape. From my own home!
