19. Mila
19
MILA
I was getting used to life in this cage.
More than that, I was getting comfortable.
Too comfortable.
Since when had I stopped fearing them— all of them?
I didn’t know, and at this point, I didn’t really want to analyze the state of my mind too deeply.
A quick glance at the clock on display on the nightstand told me it was past one in the morning. The only light was the moonlight and an outdoor lamp set a little distance away from my bedroom window. Enough to know there weren’t any monsters coming for me.
I blinked slowly and took in my surroundings once more. I used to be afraid of the dark, before I realized whatever fictitious monsters I had made up in my mind could never compare to the very real monsters that were my own dad and the men under him.
I wasn’t even sure why I was thinking about him right now. Him and my mom. She was probably trying to reach me, but couldn’t. Killian had stepped on my phone outside the motel the day they took me, crushing it into a million little pieces.
Or perhaps that was my daydream as a daughter—that Mom would really try to contact me, worried I wasn’t responding. More likely, she had forgotten about me, glad I wasn’t bothering her anymore.
Or maybe she somehow realized I had known about the attack and hadn’t warned Dad and his men.
I closed my eyes. Dad’s eyes—eyes similar to my own—flashed in my head.
No one ever doubted I was his. They might have questioned Mom’s fidelity, but never that he was my father. I was his spitting image. Which made me question how the brothers could look at me and see anything but the man who’d attacked their home when they were kids.
I didn’t know when I fell asleep. But I must have because I was dreaming now.
I dreamt of the night of the attack. Only in this nightmare, I hadn’t been able to escape in time. I was in the living room, in the thick of it. Men I had known my entire life, slaughtered into nothing, and leading the charge were Maverick, Killian, and Silas.
Destruction surrounded me, bloodshed and screams—most of them familiar to me.
My heart pounded faster in my chest as I looked around the chaos, unsure of what my eyes were searching for until?—
“Please.”
I gasped as I stared down at my father. He had always seemed so big, so imposing, even when his mind was clouded with drugs and alcohol.
Not now.
Now, he looked broken. Half the man he once was, broken and bloody.
“Mila, help me,” he begged.
I shook my head and tried to back away. My feet were stuck frozen to the floor, and no matter how badly I wanted to move, to run away, I couldn’t.
His eyes turned hard, a look I was familiar with.
Even broken on the floor, he still managed to evoke the same fear in me. “You bitch. I should have killed you when I had the chance. You betrayed the club. Betrayed me. And for what? To whore yourself out to three fucking savages? I fucking hope they break you.”
My breathing grew erratic, and Dad no longer seemed weak. In fact, the worse I felt, the better he looked, as if he was sucking everything good there was about me and taking it for himself.
He grew taller.
No longer on his knees, he stood strong.
“You’d better run,” he threatened. It had been a while since I’d heard his voice, but it was as clear as I remembered it, haunting my thoughts.
My eyes roamed the room, looking for the brothers. They had just been here. Where were they?
I shook my head when Dad took a step toward me.
My hands balled into fists, the nails digging into the skin of my palms. Wetness seeped out, and I didn’t need to look down to know I was bleeding.
“When I get my hands on you, I’m going to make good on my word and kill you, girl.”
I needed Maverick or Killian or Silas to appear and slaughter my dad again.
I begged… I prayed… I hoped …
If it made me a terrible daughter, a terrible person, I didn’t fucking care anymore.
He took another step toward me, and another, and another, until finally, he stood before me.
I opened my mouth to scream?—
And that was when I woke up. I was hot and sweaty and cold at the same time. I looked around the room and realized I must have kicked the covers off during the nightmare. I pulled them back over me and tried to go back to sleep, but it was impossible. I kept seeing Dad’s face every time I closed my eyes.
Without another thought, I threw the blanket off me and was out of the room before I even took in another breath.
I didn’t think Silas was home. Something about dealing with the aftermath of the blowout. And Killian wasn’t really who I wanted to be vulnerable with, especially not after our time in the kitchen, so that left Maverick.
I didn’t know if it was a good idea to even go to him, to any of them, but the alternative was to lie awake in my room for the rest of the night, fearing my dead father might come and get me.
I went to his room. The lights were off. He was already asleep. What if…
What if I sneaked into his bed and stayed there?
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t crossed so many of my personal boundaries before.
I opened the door before I lost my nerve and walked into the dark room. The outside lamp didn’t really reach his windows fully, so his room was much darker than mine.
I closed the door softly behind me and moved toward the bed, climbing in on the other side.
The bedsheets smelled like him, and I shouldn’t, but I took comfort in that. I lay on my side, my back to him, and tried to chase sleep, even if it didn’t feel possible.
His side of the bed moved, and I felt arms go around me. I barely held in the scream when I felt his hot breath on the skin of my neck.
“What are you doing in here, little monster?”
I tensed, but it didn’t seem like he was angry.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” I asked.
“I got a bad case of insomnia, baby,” he answered, his voice soft.
“Oh.”
He pressed a small kiss on the back of my neck, making my skin tingle. In fact, my entire back was tingling from where we’d touched. I could tell he wasn’t wearing a shirt. I didn’t know if he was wearing any underwear, and a huge part of me wanted to find out. I didn’t ask him. Or reach behind me.
“Were you hoping I’d be?”
“Yes,” I said.
He laughed. “Yeah?”
“Yes, you’re easier to kill that way.”
He squeezed me tightly to him, and the fabric of his boxers brushed the skin on my legs. I was stupidly disappointed at that. Ignoring my thoughts, I smiled a little when his hands moved over my belly, rubbing it. I hadn’t thought my mood could feel so… light.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked.
“I had a nightmare,” I confessed softly. I gazed out the window, focusing on the shadow of a nearby tree branch.
He didn’t say anything right away. Then, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
I felt his lips on my cheek and I snuggled closer to the pillow. “Can I sleep with you tonight?” I asked.
I didn’t know what I would do if he kicked me out.
His hold on me relaxed, and he said, “Of course.”
I placed my hand on top of his on my stomach, before I closed my eyes. And I fell asleep.
This time, there were no nightmares.