Page 43 of Stolen Rebel

“No.”

“Then it’s not a cell, is it?”

Sliding a bookmark into the book, she closes it with a snap and balances it on the arm of the sofa. “Haven’t you ever heard of learned helplessness? To her, that room has come to represent safety, and if that woman needs anything right now, it’s to feel safe.”

“I haven’t harmed a fucking hair on her head.” Couldn’t if I wanted to. Not that I feel remotely like sharing that with Sorcha.

“Physically, no.”

I don’t like the way she says that, or how she narrows her eyes and pours judgment into her tone. I’m navigating unfamiliar waters, and my sister-in-law is calling for a storm. She hasn’t finished, either.

“You’re a scary man, Liam, and you know it. I thought after your chat with Darragh in the pub, you’d stop being such a Neanderthal and show that woman some kindness.”

“How do you know about what Darragh said?”

She arches a brow.

I curse. “Fucking traitor.”

Sighing, she puts her legs down, planting her feet on the floor. “He’s worried about you. We all are.”

“Okay, we’re getting way off track here.” Any second now, she’ll shine a fucking light in my eyes. “What did she tell you?”

“Very little.”

I flick my fingers up in a “get on with it” motion. “Let’s have it.”

“She’s holding on to her fake persona because, for some unfathomable reason, she thinks it will protect you. After the way you’ve treated her, you’re lucky she hasn’t thrown you under the fucking bus. I would’ve done.”

Ignoring her seventeenth dig of the day, I frown. I did not expect that to be the cause. “How does that make any fucking sense?”

“I don’t know, but trust me, that woman is absolutely terrified that one wrong move or a slipped word will bring the house down on your head. Not hers. Yours. Everything she is doing or not doing, saying or not saying, is to guard your safety. She said someone won’t let her go and something else about leverage.”

“What kind of leverage?”

“I don’t know. But the more you push, the harder she’s going to clam up.”

I raise my hand and rub the back of my neck. “Was that it?”

“Pretty much the gist, yeah.”

She’s lying. Sorcha’s worked hard to cover her tells, but when she’s hiding something, her eyes flicker up and to the left. She’s probably not even aware she does it.

“I’m going to talk to her.” I whip around. Sorcha moves like a greyhound chasing a rabbit, blocking my exit.

“Leave her be, Liam. The way you get what you want is to earn her trust. Right now, she’d rather face your wrath than fess up to what she’s hiding. You have to set the right tone, the right environment to flip that on its head. And, spoiler alert, that isn’t by threatening her.”

I chew over her words for a few seconds. God, I hate it when she’s right.

“And how do you suggest I do that since you seem to have effortlessly managed it?”

Side note: I also hate asking for her advice, but here we fucking are.

“Show her some kindness and understanding. Stop nagging her about what she’s hiding. Call her Erin, if that’s what she wants. It’s just a fucking name; you don’t have to take it as a personal slight on you. Maybe take her out of this house. I doubt she’ll run, and even if she does, maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that way you’ll get the answers you’re looking for.”

“She better not fucking run.” I growl. “Because I will chase her, and she won’t like what I do when I catch her.”

Sorcha grins. “Angry sex is so much fun.”