Wicked Scandal (Misfits #2)

Chapter 25

CATHERINE

A blinding realization smashes into me like a wrecking ball. “We have to go back,” I blurt out. “We have to go, right now.”

I can’t believe I didn’t think about this sooner.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Wilder grabs me by both arms, looking into my eyes.

“You might want to sit down,” I say remorsefully. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Wilder pulls out a chair and sits down, but he pulls me onto his lap. “This sounds serious.”

“It is. There are some things you don’t know, but I feel like you need to know. I don’t want secrets between us.”

Sensing my unease, he rubs my leg. “You can tell me anything. I’ve got you…always.”

“It has to stay between us because if it ever got out to the wrong person, my life would be over.”

I never thought I’d share this with another person, but I trust Wilder and he deserves the full story. He deserves to know why I stayed even when my heart called out to his.

“Of course,” he says with a tone that is far too casual. I know he’s downplaying this for my sake, and I’m grateful for that.

I take a deep breath, doing my best to keep my voice strong. It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about that day.

“You know about the abuse, but what you don’t know is why I stayed. I couldn’t leave because Troy threatened to hand over my identity to some very dangerous men. At the time, I had no idea he once worked for these men.”

“Okay.” He nods slowly. “And why would some dangerous men want anything from you?”

For the longest time I’d wished I could go back and change ever meeting Troy. But then, I would have never come to Willow Creek and I never would have met Wilder.

Eleven years ago

I’m sitting at a bar when a handsome man approaches me. He’s in a nice suit and his hair is done up in a messy way, but you can tell he tried to style it.

Tonight I ran away from my boyfriend after I found out he’s been dealing drugs for a gang in the area. I knew us living out of a car for the past few months had been rough on him, but gangs are not something I ever wanted to get involved in.

When the gentleman sits down, he smiles at me. It’s warm and inviting, unlike anything I’m used to. Usually men like this want one thing, but this man looks at me like maybe I could be his one thing.

Troy. He told me his name was Troy.

I expect him to get up and leave, to realize that I’m the piece of shit my boyfriend calls me. Even when I’m the only one that makes us any money. I usually work at this bar, but it’s my night off and I needed a drink.

But Troy doesn’t just walk away, instead he hands me a card with his phone number and tells me that if I ever need anything to call him.

When I get to the car I’m living out of, I pull open the passenger side door and something—no, someone—falls out.

In a state of shock, I look down at my boyfriend; there are bullet holes in his head and chest.

Before I know it, three gunshots go off across the street, aiming right for me. What I don’t expect is crossfire, so when someone steps out of the alleyway beside me and begins shooting back, I duck and plug my ears.

I have no idea how long it goes on for, but when it finally stops, no one is left standing. I try to get up from my spot but it’s like I can’t move. I’m frozen.

Apparently I do move, though, because I have the card out and my phone to my ear in the next minute.

“That was faster than I thought.” The voice chuckles on the other end of the phone, and I begin to cry.

“Catherine, what is it? Are you hurt?”

I have to take a second and figure out if I am. I don’t think anything hit me, but I also can’t think.

“I-I don’t know.”

“I’m on my way, sweetheart. Just tell me where you are and I’ll make it better.”

“There were guns… There are dead bodies all around me. Oh God, Troy. What should I do?”

I’m the only one left alive from a gang shoot-out; there is no way anyone will believe I just got lucky.

“It’s okay, Catherine. I have friends in high places. You don’t have to worry. I’m pulling up now.”

As soon as he steps out of his car, I run to him, breaking down instantly. He holds me and soothes the ache while making phone calls. I don’t question anything because I don’t want to. I just want to be safe. For so long, that’s all I ever really wanted.

Stepping out of the memory, I tell Wilder that Troy kept a recording of that call and threatened to send it to one of the gang leaders he still was in contact with if I ever tried to leave. I tell him my theory that the shoot-out was all a facade for me to call Troy and be in his debt, and Wilder agrees with me.

Sobs rack my whole body by the time I’m done. I tell him about how the beatings started. It was all so slow that at first, I didn’t realize it for what it was. Then I go into way too much detail about the first time I tried to leave.

How Troy played the recording for me and threatened to give it over to the gang members so they could eliminate the only witness from that night. Then, he forced me to unpack my bag while he watched and mocked me for every little item I tried to take with me.

It’s all so much. Years of hurt and anger and God only knows what else. The trauma will be a lot to work through, but I plan to do it in spite of Troy. I will never let him win. I can’t.

But right now, I break as I let it all out and hope that Wilder doesn't see me the same way I saw myself as I was huddled on the ground on that cold night.

In the end, Wilder just holds me close as I break down in his arms. He whispers promises into my ear about how he is here to keep me safe and that I will never be put in that situation ever again.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. You’re so strong,” he whispers in my hair as I continue to cry. “You’re going to get through this, I promise you.”

And I believe him. After a while the room grows silent and I let the heat of Wilder’s body pressed against mine calm my racing heart.

“You’re right,” he whispers in my hair. “We need to go back and get that evidence. But first, we need to come up with a plan. The police are going to want to speak to us both. They’re going to want to know where we’ve been and why we ran.”

So next, we devise a plan. A pretty solid one at that.