“It’s not your fault,” I say, turning to face her.
“I didn’t shoot you off the fence, but I opened the door and let you out. This is my guilt to bear, and bear alone. I owe it to you to let you know that Elio is alive.”
My heart stops.
There were a million other things I might have expected Tyjae to say, but that was ont one of those things was that the bastard wasn’t dead.
“He’s alive?” I croak.
Tyjae nods.
“They have their reasons and they should be the ones to explain it to you,” she says with a tight smile, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “Yes, Elio is alive, but he’s not free. Your father has him in his own cell in the basement.”
She pushes off the ledge and walks back inside while I stand there, unmoving, unseeing, unhearing.
Elio isalive?
***
I walk into the bedroom that still doesn’t feel like mine, but this is where I come to hide and be by myself. I managed to stay out of it most of the day, but I had to slip away every now and then.
Finding out Elio was still alive and under the house I roam has been bothering me all day.
My feet come to a halt when I catch sight of the large man standing beside my bed. Lion, they called him. My hackles raise, as I’ve hardly seen him since the night my family came for me in that cell. Since then, whenever I enter a room, he leaves. Not once has he tried to approach me since I’ve returned to what they call my childhood home. It’s obvious my not recognizing him hurt him. I can tell by the way his body stiffens at my presence.
He has dark, tanned skin under tattoos that cover his entire body, and messy black hair that falls unkempt around the crown of his head. It looks like he’s been shoving his hands through it. His back is to me, and I can sense his hesitation to turn around and face me.
Moments go by and we both just stand there. He only turns when I step into the room and shut the door behind me. A scar runs through his left eye, above his eyebrow down to below his lower lid just above his cheek—it matches mine.
Lion still hasn’t lifted his gaze to mine. His thick, dark brows pinch together, and he blows out a long breath before dropping what was in his hand onto the bed beside him. From here it looks like the dagger I found that day in Elio’s office. Tyjae brought it for me, I just didn’t understand why. Did it have something to do with him?
“I’m sorry, I…”
His jaw tics as he searches for the words. He seems rattled and I get the feeling he’s not used to that particular sensation.
No, this is a man of power. Even through his current uncertainty, there’s a confidence there in the way he holds himself. I must’ve been someone who saw vulnerability in him once. I may not know who I am, but I know powerful men. This man knows brutality, his hands are stained with blood, and he has the mind of a leader.
“I don’t know why I’m here,” he finally says.
Honey-drop eyes meet mine and a memory tugs at the recesses of my mind. For reasons I don’t understand, the sadness I see in his gaze makes me want to burn the world to the ground just to fix it.
I close my eyes and let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. A clear image forms of a boy, maybe ten-years-old, obviously the man standing in front of me. No tattoos and an innocence the world hasn’t yet tarnished. I’m lying on the ground and his hand is held out, a smirk on his face.
“It’s not going to kill you to accept some help,” the boy says with a scoff. He raises an expectant eyebrow.
My younger self feels annoyed and grudgingly accepts his extended hand so he can pull me to my feet.
“I don’t need anyone’s help,” I snap back.
His smile grows and he shrugs.
“Maybe not. But it doesn’t mean you won’t always have it, whether you want it or not.”
He reaches out, flicking his knuckle under my chin.
“I got you and you got me, remember?”
My eyes snap open. Tears blur my vision and I meet his soft eyes. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I think they’re shimmering with tears, too.