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He says with concern. “They hated their boss and what he was capable of.”
“Like what?”
“His hobbies mainly. He had an endless supply of young men delivered for his own pleasure. He strung them up in his dungeons and fucked with their minds and bodies.”
I feel sick and he growls, “Word is, he had his own private part of the house nobody had access to. Only his fingerprint opened the doors, and he had a silent army to serve him.”
“Silent?”
“He removed their tongues so they couldn’t speak of the horrors they witnessed.”
Just picturing Winter in that hellish place twists the knife even deeper into my soul and Ivan says with disgust, “Nobody knows what really went on in there and I’m guessing the only one who does is blocking it from her mind.”
“Do you think it’s fear keeping her memory away?”
“Trauma, definitely. Charlotte told me she read up on it.”
I snort and he rolls his eyes. “Of course, she would, but she said anything could trigger the memory and when it returns, it may not be a pleasant one and we should be prepared for that.”
I consider his words and I suppose I always knew of that possibility. Winter may be here physically, but mentally she’s still fighting to find her way back to us and I’m not sure any of us are really prepared to deal with what happens when she does.
CHAPTER31
WINTER
Angelo slides in beside me and Flynn nods respectfully. “Can I fetch you a drink, Winter? Non-alcoholic of course, boss’s orders.”
He grins as I giggle, loving how good they always make me feel. Being here, back at Rockwell, in my mind at least, it’s as if the past never happened and we can finally look forward to the future.
As Flynn heads off, Angelo drapes his arm around my shoulders, and I rest my head on him like we always used to do.
“How are you?”
He sounds anxious and I smile softly. “Good, thanks. It’s a dream being back here. I may not remember the details, but I know my life was a horror show.”
“Do you remember anything?”
I think about his question and shiver. I’m scared to delve too deep because of the monster lurking around the corner that may just destroy me if I get too close and my voice shakes. “I’m scared of the past, Angelo.”
His hold tightens around my shoulder, and he growls ominously. “Nothing can hurt you now. You have hell’s soldiers fighting your corner.”
“I know.”
I sigh heavily. “Sometimes a flash of something painful hits me when I least expect it. I am always fearing being punished. I can’t even glance at myself in a mirror, and I guess it’s because I won’t like what I find.”
“What do you mean?” Angelo’s tone is even, but I sense the anger radiating from inside him and I whisper. “I may have become a monster to survive. What if I remember and can’t live with what I’ve done?”
“If you did anything, it was because you had no choice which is something we all live with. Fight or flight, as they say, and so you only had one option.”
He turns to face me. “Mafia isn’t an occupation they list as a career option. It’s a business that only a select few can master. We were born into this life and have suffered because of it. We are products of it, and it has molded our souls. We do what we must to get through the day and the darkest nights and I’m guessing that if you did anything, it was with that in mind. When we heard our father murder our mother, it was just another day at the office. Flynn, Ivan, Malik and Alessandro, also bear the scars of who we are. Our life isn’t normal and never will be. We operate in madness and do what we must to survive. The fact you are here now tells me how incredibly brave you are. If you wake up one day and stare at a memory that returns, face it with courage, knowing that it can’t beat you. You conquered fear and fought your way back to us and so don’t cower away from your memories because they are what brought you back to us.”
Just hearing my brother’s usual strong words, give me the reassurance I so badly need. Yes, we have dealt with more in a short life than many ever witness, and I suppose he’s right. It’s made us stronger. Whatever happened in the two years since I left will not make a fairy-tale, more like a horror story. I have no doubt about that and so I grip hold of a firm resolve to face whatever memory is waiting for me and understand that whatever happened was merely a fight for survival.
Malik heads our way and stares at me with concern.
“I’m sorry, Winter.”
“What for?”
