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And she fucking loved him for it. She loved him for giving her a home, giving her a place to belong, giving her space to just be. And she loved him for bringing her to the place of her nightmares, for seeking vengeance on her behalf and stringing up the monsters, making her realize it all had no power over her anymore. She had grown, she had evolved, and the terrified, tired girl she had been didn't exist in this hellhole anymore. The woman she was now, the woman she wanted to be, didn't want to be cruel.
The smell of gasoline slowly filled the room.
Lyla looked around, trying to see where is was coming from, but couldn't see a thing.
So, she took a step back toward the threshold. "I feel pity for you," she told the bald man. "I feel pity that you never knew love. And I feel pity because you're going to die painfully all alone, knowing you were never loved."
His expression soured. "You think he loves you?" he spat out. "He's using you because of who you are, because of where you come from. Has he told you about it?"
She stayed still, her breaths locked in her chest.
The bald man laughed. "Has he told you about your brother? The man who's been looking for you for almost twenty years?"
Lyla froze.
What the fuck was he talking about?
He was lying. He had to be lying. She didn't have a brother. She had no family. No way.
Before the bald man could say another word, she felt the presence at her back.
"Trust me still?"
She closed her eyes at the words, the familiar words, and reminded herself that she'd trusted this man six years ago with her baby, and she trusted him now. She had been with him long enough to know he was motivated by her well-being.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Good girl." She felt a soft kiss to the side of her neck.
"Do… do I have a brother?" she asked, unable to help herself.
She felt a moment's pause. "Yes."
Her knees wobbled and she felt her body collapsing, his strong arm going around her waist to support her. "I was waiting for you to be ready. You couldn't have met anyone like you were."
She centered herself, holding onto his arm, her brain processing everything. She had a brother, one who'd been looking for her for twenty years or so, which meant he was older than she was.
She had an older brother.
She didn't know the emotions inside her, didn't know what was happening in her body as it sunk in. She was aware of the bald man saying something, and aware of the quiet but solid presence behind her, but nothing more.
She had an older brother.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, her nails digging into the forearms of the man she held onto, her breathing heavy. She trusted him, but she was mad, mad because he'd known about it and hadn't told her, mad because she had gone on for so long thinking she had no one. A part, one more rational, agreed with him, that she hadn't been ready mentally and emotionally for a news like that. But she was still mad.
She focused on the anger, routing it externally, and straightened from where she leaned against him.
Without a word, she felt him move away to the side. She watched as he picked up a canister and walked into the one ray of light coming in through the high window, his face exposed.
The bald man's eyes widened. "Blackthorne."
So, he recognized Dainn.
"I'll be damned," the bald man laughed, the sound hysterical. "Fucking Blackthorne."
Dainn didn't utter a word, simply opened the canister and tipped it to the side.
The pungent smell of gasoline filled the room as the liquid spread on the floor, Dainn stepping back casually from its range.
