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She dragged in a shaky breath. “It wasn’t until about age six that I learned who my father was. That Kusma was the head of this super-secret militia group that worked directly for the Russian government, doing very bad things for them. Assassinations, kidnappings, torturing people for information. My father took orders from the government, no questions asked.”
“Sounds kind of like what I do.”
“No, there is no righteousness with them. Their job was to punish people who rebelled against the government. Kusma was both respected and feared.”
“Where was your mom?”
“Long gone. She was some whore my father got pregnant. She was of no use to him, so she was discarded. Killed, for all I know. God knows why he kept me. There are many days I wish he wouldn’t have.”
Whore.This word usage stuck out to me. How easily she said it, how easily she accepted it. I knew from experience how easy it was to adopt your parents’ bad behavior. Maybe because there is a sense of normality to it, or maybe because it seems less unacceptable as it’s your blood doing it.
“I was eight years old when my father first touched me inappropriately.”
A bomb detonated in my brain. I blinked, my lips parting in shock. Sophia closely watched my reaction, her hand slowly fisting my T-shirt, begging me not to leave, not to surge up in rage and go apeshit—which was exactly what I wanted to do.
“I was too scared to tell anyone,” she said, her voice small and weak. “And then it got worse.” She looked away, her cheeks flushed with shame. “A year later, it progressed to full-on rape. He would make me call him Daddy—” She squeezed her eyes shut, hiding her tears.
It broke my damn heart.
Overwhelmed with emotions, I wrapped my arms around her, cocooning her against my chest. I said, simply, “I’m here. I’m here, I’m right here.”
• • •
Once her tears dried, Sophia rolled out of my hold and onto her back, wiping her eyes. “God, it feels good to tell someone about it, as crazy as that sounds.”
I lifted onto my elbow and looked down at her. “That doesn’t sound crazy. I understand—it felt good to tell you about my scar. To be honest about it, I guess.”
“You’ve never told anyone the real story?”
“Nope. Said I got it in combat. You never told anyone about your father?”
“No. I was too ashamed.”
“Not even your cousin?”
“No.” Sophia took a deep breath. “I truly don’t know where he is. I’m sorry, I don’t. I can’t help you there. Honestly, I don’t ever want to know where he is again. He’s been out of my life for three years, and a lifetime won’t be long enough. I’m trying to get my life back together—or, I guess,a life, I should say ... a new one.”
She chewed on her lip. “You see, after he started abusing me, I kind of turned into someone else. Someone I’m not proud of. Somebody that I am trying very, very hard to shed.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine the person she was referring to. Sophia used her gorgeous looks and her body as a bargaining tactic when it served her. I understood, more than ever, why she’d kissed me that night. It’s how she’d survived in the past. And you know what? I didn’t blame her. She was smart. Sophia used her resources while others perished.
“I don’t judge you, Sophia.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Do you think less of me?”
I thought of all the things I’d done in my life that I wasn’t proud of.
I shook my head, sweeping my thumb over her chin. “We are very, very similar creatures.”
Her fingers intertwined with mine. “I’ve told you almost everything. What questions do you have?”
“Ron Fitch. Did you know?”
“That he was with Black Cell? No, I didn’t. I had no idea. Are you sure he is?”
