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“Jonah was there, and David too, of course. And three others. They had a woman down on the floor with a veil around her head, taking turns raping her. Beating the shit out of her until her ribs cracked and her jaw broke. When they were done, they left me in there and told me to clean up their mess.
“I pulled the veil off the woman’s head and was met with the face of my mother. I killed her, used the knife she’d given me to slit her throat. I couldn’t fix her, and I couldn’t leave her to die like a wounded animal.
“Fucked up thing is, by that point I felt nothing for her. I still can’t bring myself to feel bad about it. I remember staring at the blood and placing my hand over her heart. I felt it beating hard at first, fighting to keep her alive. It slowly faded away.
“And you were right, David never told us to leave. Brock took me and Grimm in the middle of the night and got us out. He couldn’t get to you. You’ve always been untouchable. He went back to try, but David had moved the colony by then. The rest is ancient history.
“I grew up a cannibal. Brock did what he could to make me human again. He became something like a father; Grimm is my brother. We found Cobra a year later. ”
I sighed and turned to look at her, making my way back to the couch. I needed a fucking drink, and I didn’t drink.
“Rome, I––”
I hushed her with a kiss. “I don’t talk about this shit, Pixie. I don’t need to and I don’t want to. This was just something I wanted you to know.”
I expected her to push me. She didn’t.
“Okay. I understand. I won’t bring it up again, promise.” she held up her little pinky.
Fuck, she was perfect for me.
Like a pussy, I looped my much larger pinky with hers. She smiled as if I’d just given her a pony. “But you can tell me about your cult, right?”
“My cult?” I raised my brows. I guess she would’ve caught on to the fact that the Savages weren’t some street gang. I never told her much about it at all.
I’d just tossed her ass in my world without a lifejacket, and made her learn to swim in it. She hadn’t drowned yet, so I’d like to say things were going good.
“Really?” She tried to mock my look and failed.
“I’ll tell you about that another day. In the meantime, why don’t you get cleaned up? You have clothes in the closet. Come down when you’re ready.” I kissed her cheek and reluctantly moved away.
I could sit and talk with her for hours. Right then, though, I just wanted to talk to my brother.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
When his door clicked shut, I went to the closet and peeked inside. He’d had a whole section of grunge clothes and a few dresses brought in. He was always paying attention to the little things.
Smoothing my fingers over all the different fabrics, I thought over everything he’d just told me. The ache I felt for him was both physical and mental.
The Shiloh was a like a round metal water tower without the legs. There were three of them on the edge of The Order’s property.
They had one small circular window in the ceiling, dirt floors, and no toilets. I have no idea what my state of mind would be like if I’d been locked away as he had. I knew things couldn’t have been good for him, but he’d had it far worse than me. And now, David wanted to be his friend? Fuck that.
I wouldn’t pretend I knew what any of that was like. His admittance to killing his own mother didn’t even surprise me. Maybe that should’ve bothered me far more than it did, but I couldn’t force myself to conjure up feelings that weren’t there.
All I had was this bubbling fissure on my heart of pain, and heartache for the little boy he’d never got to be and what was done to him. I understood why he didn’t talk about it.
There was nothing pleasant in reliving those memories, and I didn’t need specific details to make the right assumptions.
I grabbed a simple black t-shirt dress, some knee-high boots, and finally some damn underwear from a drawer.
His bathroom was something from a dream. It was dark and warm, comforting and clean. I hadn’t sat down in a bathtub in months, so I went straight for the big ass soak box in the middle of the room.
Kicking off my shoes and clothes, I padded across the cool slate floor to the vanity, where a basket of bubbles sat. I’d never had bubbles before. I looked in one of the double mirrors as I waited for the tub to fill, trying to compare what I’d been to what I’d become.
The thing about mirrors is that they only showed us reflections of how we saw ourselves. They didn’t show what was inside us.
I used to want people to believe I had a light inside me, and in doing so, I made myself empty.
