So much agony. More than I’ve ever felt in my life. I flinch with each remembered hit, each slap, kick, punch. The abuse of being thrown around a dark room and terrified of never getting out.
“Mama.” I remember crying for her. Wishing she could sing to me when I finally passed out from pain and starvation. “Daddy, please.” I wailed for him in a way I haven’t since I was a little girl.
“Baby girl.” His voice is in my ear now. “Open your eyes for me, Scotlyn Rivers.” His words are stern, and I do as he says.
“Daddy.” My voice cracks as I catch sight of his tortured face. “He hurt me, Daddy.” Kneeling on the floor, the strongest man I know allows me to crawl into his lap like a dying dog, and he rocks me, humming my favorite song. “Where’s Mama? Why didn’t she come with you?”
“I should have let her. But I knew when I killed this son of a bitch, I couldn’t have her here to worry about when I was alreadypetrified I wouldn’t get to you in time. I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m so fucking sorry this animal got his hands on you.” Carver Rivers doesn’t apologize to anyone. His entire life, he’s done and moved with purpose, so to hear him say sorry to me now, breaks my heart a little more.
“Why is the goddess crying, Daddy?” I hear a little girl's voice and gingerly open my eyes to see who's speaking. It's the girls from my performance. “Is she going to be okay?” Each of them shuffles towards Jaxson, where he’s leaning forward in the chair behind me.
They both crawl into his lap with the same unshakable confidence I feel with my own father. “Yeah, Bethy, she’s going to be just fine in due time.”
Slipping his fingers under my chin, Jaxson leans forward and lays a light kiss on my lips. I can hear my father rumbling his dislike of the action, but when Jaxson pulls away, I follow and climb back into his lap, his girls sliding to each arm of the oversized chair.
I’m not sure which child is which, but when one of them reaches forward and brushes her fingers along my cheek, where I know there’s a huge bruise and cut, her nose scrunches up. “Daddy will fix you,” she says with such certainty. “He makes all our ouchies better.”
Clearing my throat, I feel the exhaustion pulling at me, and I know I won’t remain awake much longer, but I have to know. “What’s your name?”
The girls share a secret smile before they answer. “I’m Bellamy, and that’s Bethany. We’re twins.” They beam at me with such innocence.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you again, primas; I’m Scotlyn.” My body feels heavy and languid.
“You’re her,” Bellamy says, squeezing her sister's hand. “Daddy went on a date with you.” It’s not a question, but I nod anyways and immediately regret it as acid rises up my throat.
“He really likes you,” Bethany murmurs, quieter than the other girl.
Crooking a finger at them, they slide off the chair arms and come to stand around in front of me, leaning closer. “I really like him too,” I whisper like it’s our secret. Their giggles lull me into a sense of comfort as I close my eyes again.
Jaxson doesn’t say anything, but I can sense his pleasure at my comment by the intense stare he gives me as I rest in his arms and by the way he holds me. I don’t know what the hell is happening in my life right now or why, but I'm optimistic that I’ll fight to explore more of what Jax and I have started. Especially now that I’ve met his precious daughters.
Chapter 6
Jax
“She’s tough,” Saint reassures as he watches me from his perch against the doorframe leading down the hallway to the spare room where the doctor is examining Scotlyn.
The desire to accompany her and stay by her side nearly outweighs my parental instinct to be here for my girls. “She is,” I agree. “But he stole something from her. Something that will take her a long-ass time to recover from.” And I’m going to kill Tumarov for it.
“It’s not the first time.” I sit up straighter at his words while my girls continue eating breakfast while quietly watching cartoons.
Standing up, I walk closer to Saint. “What do you mean?”
Without looking at me, he says, “Scotty is different. She has a light inside of her. It’s addictive, alluring. Men want it. They want her. What they want most, unfortunately, is to extinguish it.” His cold gaze slides to me for a split second. “Easton, Bishop, and I spent years preventing it from happening. Scared off more pricks than she knew even existed.”
Saint pauses as we hear Scotlyn’s soft cry and whimper from beyond the closed door. Both of us poised to step forward but don’t because she's requested privacy. Neither of us wanting to ask why but suspecting.
“She left for school, then moved here, where all her dreams came true. She had her dream career, her best friend, and a man who was drawn to her light.” The more he speaks, the darker his words become, and I have a feeling about where this is going. “Nick beat her to within an inch of her life. He tried to isolate her, to cut off contact with her family.”
“You didn’t let him.” He doesn’t have to say it aloud. I’d have done the same thing for my own sister.
“Shedidn’t. When he was finally arrested, he pled guilty and got six months.” A sick smile spreads across his face. “He never made it out alive.”
“Damn shame,” I mutter as the door opens, and Sarah comes out, closing it behind her.
“She’s resting now. Nothing is broken, though there was a displaced rib. That’s the cry you heard. Thank you for not bursting through the door.” Her gaze slides between us. “She has a slight concussion that is on the mend, but she’s still in a lot of pain. Wake her up every few hours still, get her talking, drinking lots of water, and no heavy foods. Soups, toast, scrambled eggs, keep it light and bland for a couple of days. She’ll need help in the shower, as well, but no hanky-panky.” With a wink, she pats my shoulder and leaves as quietly as she came.
“You break her heart, Slade, and those little girls won’t stop me from breaking your neck,” Saint warns before entering the room to check on his little sister.