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Count the strokes, you little whore. We’re going to destroy that pathetic cunt tonight. The memory of coming against one of their dicks, humiliation storming through me as my body betrayed me. Their glee in it. It’s why they decided to keep me rather than kill me. An amusement. A toy.
Strong arms looped around me, pulling my face against Petros’ expansive chest.
‘It’s okay,’ he murmured into my hair, his hot breath comforting me, bringing me back into the present and away from the ghastly memories that had felt more real than they had in many years. ‘They aren’t here. You are safe with me. I won’t let them hurt you ever again.’
My fingers shook as I knitted them behind his back, tucking my face in tightly to him as my emotions turned me this way and that.
‘You are going to kill every last one of them. They will suffer under your hands.’ Petros’ words were filled with anger—anger on my behalf. How had I overlooked him for so many years?
‘You are the best friend I’ve ever had,’ I whispered, pulling back a fraction to look at him. Wetness skirted my eyelashes as he smiled down at me.
‘You’ve been my everything since the day I walked into that room all those years ago. The sun to my shadow.’
‘Oh Petros, if anyone’s the sun, it’s you.’ His deep umber eyes searched my face, and his breath hitched. Standing up on my tiptoes, I brushed my lips over his. It was the softest touch, barely a kiss at all, yet the feeling behind it hit me in the gut more than any other had.
His hands moved up into my hair, cupping my face. ‘Harriet, I love you. I have done forever.’
There was a hint of something pained beneath the words, the declaration tainted. By something. By someone.
‘But you love him more,’ I whispered.
‘No. Not more. But I’m growing to adore him too. And I don’t know how to navigate this. All of that can wait, though. We need to put this chapter of your story to bed.’
‘To the grave,’ I said.
Petros nodded, scooping me against his chest again. ‘Stay here with us. The demons from your past are clawing at you, determined to drag you into despair. Don’t let them. If you need me to ground you, grab my hand. I’ll protect you from them like I did from the devils who hurt you.’
‘Thank you.’
Taking my hand, he led me through the room, away from the table and the atrocities inflicted on me there.
Towards our next stage.
We caught up with Alfie as Grieves unlocked the door before handing him the key.
‘It’s still untouched?’ Alfie asked, his face set in a hard mask we’d so rarely seen him employ. Usually, he preferred using his smart mouth to get through a situation. I wondered if his memory demons clawed at him too.
Grieves nodded. ‘Not a soul has set foot in there like you asked when he passed.’
‘Thank you,’ Alfie said. ‘Go and get yourself a cup of tea, I’ll return the key when we’re finished.’
The older man looked reluctant to leave Alfie with us, his face turning into a frown when he looked us over. After a moment, he nodded before dipping his head at us and taking his leave.
By the time he was out of view, Petros let out a low whistle. ‘Can’t believe you grew up here. This place is insane.’
‘A gilded cage,’ Alfie said, pulling his shoulders back and taking a breath. Reluctance rolled from him like waves hitting the shore, yet still he depressed the door handle and opened his own personal hell. For me. Nancy had said to look for what Petros saw in him, and that little act of self-sacrifice made me see it. I may have forced him to help me, but Petros had offered him and out, and he stayed to help me, even when I hated him.
Soft lighting illuminated the room when Alfie flipped the switch. The office was fairly big, the walls lined with hundreds of old books and not a single one looked like it was from the past century. An ornate desk stood proudly in the centre of the room, the only non-library wall behind it covered in ornate panelling. The wall had two portraits hanging, and a gap where one seemed to have been previously.
‘He removed me,’ Alfie said when he saw me staring. ‘Smashed it to pieces after one particular disappointment on my part. The others are his wife, my adoptive mother, and him.’
Turning his back to the pictures, he started pulling open drawers on the desk and rifling through paperwork. Thick dust wafted on the top of the desk as he placed pile after pile of paper onto it. Petros scanned the shelves of books, while I made my way to a cabinet and paused with my fingers on one of the drawer knobs. My breath caught in my throat.
‘You can open it,’ Alfie said. ‘I promise he’s long dead.’
The fact he’d noticed my discomfort made me feel weak, and I used that to prod me into action. Pulling the drawer open, I leafed through its contents. What looked like ledgers for repayments for different companies. Nothing of note. Another held long dried-out cigars and their paraphernalia. The next cupboard hid an aged whisky collection, most of the bottles half empty. Shit, some of them were older than my grandparents would be. That sneaky reminder of my past hit me like a punch. Would they ever still be alive?
‘There’s nothing here,’ Alfie said, his voice tight. He’d truly hoped to find what I needed.
