Page 42 of Cruel Titan

Grabbing my messenger bag, I dump the contents onto my bed, bringing the bag with me to the garage. I need to get the metal box, but I don’t want anyone to see it and there are cameras on the outside of the house. Making my way outside, I don’t question that Asher is on his way over. He’ll show. I know without a doubt that he will. And when he does, I will finally listen to what he has to say, and hopefully, he tells me the truth.

33

Asher

Her response of no thrills me more than a please because as much as I enjoy hearing her beg, I crave her defiance equally, except when it comes to some things. I’m guessing she’s already received a phone call from Davis. He was just as pissed about it as I was. It took me awhile to figure out that he was the only one not on the wrong payroll or with hidden motives.

I punch the code into the keypad on the side gate, it’s accepted even though Nathan changed it the night he found me in Quinn’s room. The first time I tried the code and it worked, the worst of things that I didn’t want to believe were confirmed. It’s something that I still have to tread lightly on with Quinn, because it will destroy what’s left of her reality—and there doesn’t seem to be much.

As I step into the garage, I see her stuffing something into the bag she carries to school every day. “What’s that?”

“No. You first.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Who killed my dad? Who tried to kill Davis?” Her voice breaks as she sets the bag on the counter, her back to me. “Just please tell me the truth or don’t tell me anything at all.”

“I don’t know.” Letting out a frustrated breath, I watch as she doesn’t react immediately to my response, almost like she is debating if she can trust me.

Her chin drops to her chest, desperation thick in her voice. “I knew it. You’re still playing the game. Did you set up the white car that follows me around? Was that a ploy to scare me again?”

“No. I wouldn’t have called Davis if that was the case.”

“Then stop toying with me.”

“I don’t know, but I think I do. I just don’t want to believe it, which is why I involved Davis to begin with.”

“Who?”

Here goes. There’s no turning back after this. Once I reveal who I suspect, it will lead to the question that rips her away from me, but I can’t lie to her. “Nathan.”

Her pained sob stabs at my gut. Moving behind her, I cautiously wrap my arms around her, pulling her to me. She remains tense but leans back against me.

“I don’t want it to be Nathan either, but all the clues point to him. The four million dollars, the contracts, the blackmail—it makes sense when you see the picture of his wife and her ex-husband in a secret meeting … but it never made sense to me. That’s not Nathan. He’s not the monster. He’s the one who protects you from the monster. He’s saved me from him too. He’s always protected me.”

“Who?”

Clearing my throat, I try to avoid answering, but I want to tell her. I want to reveal my demons—every last one—to see if she’ll run screaming or stay with me in the darkness. “My dad.”

Her soft gasp doesn’t surprise me. Turning and wrapping her arms around my waist, she tucks her head against my chest. “Please tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, I prepare to bare my soul to her, and it’s the source of my deepest fear. “He wouldn’t hit me right away. It would be too easy to get the punishment over with right away when I knew it was coming. He’d shove me into a dark closet or cabinet or whatever was nearest wherever he was having his outburst, then he’d lock me in there. Sometimes for five minutes, sometimes I lost track of time but I’d swear it was days. Time felt the same either way because I wasn’t scared of the darkness; it was the anticipation of what was waiting afterwards, when he’d finally decide to let me out, after showing me he was the one in control.” I pause, trying to push away the feelings resurfacing as she burrows her face deeper in my chest. I continue, clutching her tighter to me. “That’s when the punishment would begin. Beating, hitting, kicking me until I’d wish that he’d just kill me because death had to be less painful. Being locked in the dark wasn’t the punishment. It was about the anticipation, the suffering, the not knowing when the person in control was going to hand me my fate.”

“Asher,” her hoarse voice and shaking shoulders tell me she’s crying.

Shifting back, I look at her as her tear-stained face peers back at me. I brush my thumb across her cheek, wiping the tears away. “The times I would cry, those were the times that I felt the greatest pain. The times where I considered ending it so I didn’t have to go through it again. The first time I saw you cry I knew it was the night of your greatest pain. The night the two officers knocked on your door and told you your dad was dead … and I was responsible for causing the pain.”

“You said it was Nathan, why would you be responsible?” Her voice is so low I can barely make out the words.

“Because I gave him the pictures. The picture of Stanley and Candace together. I didn’t know what would happen. Nathan and my dad didn’t have a falling out because of business, they had a falling out because of me. Nathan found me the last time it happened. He’d shown up a few days after my tenth birthday to give me a belated present because he’d been out of town on business. He opened the door, freeing me from the darkness, but I didn’t know it was him and not my dad. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain about to come, but it didn’t. Nathan wrapped his arms around me because I wasn’t responding to him saying my name. When he touched me, I started screaming and railing against him. Fighting against my dad always made it worse, but something in me wouldn’t just lay there and take the hits. I had to fight back … unlike my mom, who just takes it … backs down, and just lets him.”

“He’s still doing it?”

“When Nathan found out what was going on, he tried to get my mom to leave, fight for custody, but she refused to stand up for herself. So Nathan told my dad if he ever laid a hand on me again, he would put a bullet through his head and gladly pay the consequences. Victor must’ve taken him at his word because it stopped for a long time. Then he realized I could defend myself, so it turned into fist fights, with my mom begging for him to stop instead of putting a stop to it. Nathan did that, so I was trying to help him.”

“It can’t be Nathan.”

“It was his car.”