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She had absolutely not seen that one coming.
It felt surreal. She couldn’t believe this. She wouldn’t believe this. Because believing this meant believing that her father had been the one to sanction her trauma, her torture, her rape. Believing this meant believing he’d been the one to hold Dante’s brother hostage while making his mother bleed. Believing this meant believing he was a monster and not just a stranger who never wanted to be a part of her life.
It was the silence in the room that slowly made it real to Amara. She felt the tar in her lungs again, dripping, pulling her under, weighing her down as she started to breathe faster. Her mind started to process but failed. Her heart started to hammer and her stomach got tight.
She felt something heavy on her chest as her vision blurred, swaying slightly on her feet. Something pulled at her arms, making her fall and sit on something warm. The scent of masculine, musky cologne cut through the fog, seeping into her lungs, dispersing the tar with the feeling of safety it brought.
Amara focused her gaze to find herself sitting on Dante’s lap, his strong, muscular arms around her, squeezing her tight.
Lulu jumped on the table, coming towards her, years of being with Amara having made her sensitive to an anxiety attack.
Amara took a deep breath and pulled the pet into her arms, hugging her to her bosom, stroking her as the cat started vibrating like a little motor against her, calming down her racing heart.
“So, MrX is my father,” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word as she felt her man still, before he relaxed again, giving her a soft squeeze before staring at her mother.
“What did he do when you were with him?”
The words were quiet, permeating the air in the room.
Her ma inhaled, her slightly wrinkled hands shaking as she absorbed the news. Amara couldn’t even imagine how she must have been feeling. “Xavier was a soldier in the Outift at the time. It was right around when I joined the staff as a cook. He was very brazen, and we spent a night together, and it got very toxic, very fast. He’d had a horrible upbringing and the more I saw him, the more I realized just how… wrong he was. Your birth gave me the push to throw him out of our lives. I never wanted his shadow to touch you.”
Amara felt her throat get tight at the love her mother had for her, relating to it now in a way she never had before. Hadn’t she done the same when she’d found out she was pregnant? Hadn’t she run away to protect her child from this world?
Amara took a hold of her mother’s hand, her eyes shimmering. “I love you, Ma.”
Her mother’s gaze softened. “I love you, Mumu. Are you okay, baby?” she asked her.
Amara shrugged. She didn’t know.
Dante kept his arms around her, his voice kind as he spoke. “Will you give us the room, Zia? And please get yourself some tea and come back.”
Her mother nodded. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”
Amara watched her walk out and close the door behind her, and she let the cat down on the floor, turning in Dante’s lap to look at him.
“Now I know how Morana feels,” Amara told him softly, her heart hurting. “The sins of our fathers do stay with us. I’m sorry for what he did to your mom, Dante.”
Dante’s jaw clenched under his scruff, his dark eyes closing as he put a hand behind her head and pulled her forehead to hers, just breathing her in, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythm.
“I’m sorry for what he did to you,” he told her, his voice gruff.
Amara swallowed. “He was there. He came to see me there and let it happen. What kind of a monster does that?”
His hand on the back of her head tightened. “Promise me something, Amara.”
Amara opened her eyes to see the dark chocolate pools of his, waiting for him to continue.
“If I ever lose my way, lose my soul to this place-” he told her, his eyes fierce “-and become toxic to you or our children, promise me that you’ll end me.”
“Dante-”
“Promise me.”
Her mouth trembled. “You won’t. I won’t let you.”
He pressed his forehead to hers deeper, and they stayed silent, absorbing the dark drop of ink that swirled in their lives.
“Any soreness?” the gynecologist asked Amara, rubb
