10. Killian
Truth is subjective. It’s impossible to know which side is right, and no one can define truth as fact because everyone tells their story differently.
Hate, love, and despondency, however, are objective. You don’t choose to let them creep in on you, but they’re there in your mind.
My shadows are responsible for the despondency and the anger I harbor.
Maricela, however, was responsible for the good in me. She was a weakness I thrived on. I lived for her and would have died for her if necessary.
People can never detect my emotions. They’re locked so deep inside that I’d get lost if I went looking for them myself.
Still, my little wild girl knew how to find that emotion in the depths of my soul because she’s one and the same. It wasn’t her goal.
God knows she hated me. She should.
People say that opposites attract. They complete each other. Yet the most successful couples in history were the ones who understood each other, bore the same interests in life, and had the same needs in bed.
I had all that with my little girl. She was as unapologetic, fearless, crazy, and loyal as I was. We both loved and lived for each other, even if we didn’t know that back then.
We had the same temper, and even when we clashed, we did all we could to reconcile. Me more than her. I knew what she was, who she was, and how she felt.
One look into her colorful eyes, and I just knew.
However, I don’t know the woman lying in my arms now. This woman is vacant, fragile, and hopeless. She came from fucking Ukraine, no less. From a fucking war zone. Despite that, her fire is gone.
Her eyes, from the little I could observe, are dim to the point of despair. Her body is thinner, and I see now that her legs are marked with old wounds that weren’t there four years ago. She’s been through hell. I don’t need her to tell me that to know it’s true.
I don’t even try to bring her back to consciousness right away. Even though I know I should. My selfishness wins, and I give myself time to soak her in. Her bronzed skin is a little bit lighter than I remember and still flawless in my eyes, scars or not. And her hair is soft and silky, just as I remember.
I take the time to touch her to make sure that she’s real. Her left hand has a scar as well, I see. It’s longer and bigger than the others. I hate it on sight.
“Our road wasn’t easy, Little Ghost,” I whisper into her skin, almost kissing it.
I don’t.
I never took what wasn’t given to me, and I won’t start now. “I’ll have to punish you. I don’t have a choice, but I want to all the same.”
She moans softly but doesn’t open her eyes.
“You’ll pay for leaving me behind, for endangering yourself like that. You’re trapped now with no place else to go, and I promise you, Little Girl, if you try to run away again, I will find you just to lock you away.”
I gently place her on the bed and take out the clothes Liam’s assistant sent here per his orders. He always knows how to find the most efficient secretaries.
Much more efficient than the sixty-two-year-old secretary I have. The only reason I haven’t fired the woman is because Isabella asked me not to.
My mother likes her, and the truth is, the older woman isn’t intimidated by any of the weird phone calls she’s gotten over the years from my men.
Maricela opens her eyes one at a time. Panic settles in, and she shakes all over.
What in the ever-fucking-hell?
It’s fear, I see, which is something Maricela has never shown before. She’s afraid, but she isn’t looking at me. Her gaze is far off, battling some demons I can’t reach and defeat for her.
The blue that always looked so bright seems lifeless now. The green is changing from dark to light and dark again.
Can it be PTSD?
“Maricela, it’s me. You passed out. You need to get dressed.” Nothing.
“I’ll go call the doctor.”
Usually, that would get a reaction out of her. Maricela hates doctors. She always said that she associated the smell of the disinfectants with death.
“Maricela,” I repeat, and still get no reaction.
Frantic now, I open the door of the room and stop the nurse who brought us the soup. None of Maricela’s friends are here now. I sent them all home. There was no reason for everyone to sleep at the hospital. The kids are safe, and so is she.
A young doctor checks Maricela. He’s gentle and careful with her, probably more than he would be if I weren’t here, watching his every move.
“When was the last time you drank water?” the doctor asks. “Your skin is showing signs of dehydration.” No answer.
“Maricela, if you don’t answer now, you’ll pay for it, I promise you.” The doctor disapproves of my tone, but it works because she speaks.
“I don’t remember. In Ukraine, I think.”
“You haven’t had a drink for at least two days? That’s why you look and act like a zombie.” This woman, I swear.
How did she survive for four damn years?
The doctor says, “I’ll put in an order for blood tests, but I believe it’s severe dehydration. She needs to get fluids gradually.” The nurse in the room nods, and the two leave us.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I demand.
Her silence is getting on my nerves.
“When did you stop caring about yourself like this? It stops now. Do you understand me?” This annoying woman turns her head and ignores my words.
“Fine then. I’ll call my lawyer right now, no matter that it’s the middle of the night, and declare you incompetent for child custody.”
“Please don’t do that. They...” Her voice breaks. Fucking breaks.
“What are they?”
“They’re all I have left...”
Who is this woman?
“What happened to you, Maricela? It can’t be that damn video. It might have hurt you, but you would have gotten back on your feet. Maybe you would have left for a few days or a few weeks. But you would have come back to show me that you’re stronger than ever and that I didn’t break you. I couldn’t. I know because I tried. You know that by now as well.”
I don’t deny what she saw in that video.
I never lied to my little girl. Yes, I had to break her per orders of my depraved sick sperm donor, but at the moment Lila cornered me, I didn’t feel for her anything but the need to break her. We will have to talk, but first, I need to know she is fully present.
She curls into herself and turns away again. “It doesn’t matter.”
I don’t argue with her because I can see her desperation. It’s there. I still know the woman in front of me. I just don’t like this version of her.
“You’re right. Whatever happened, I can’t change it.” The hopelessness in her eyes makes me want to shake her. I will find out the truth no matter what it takes.
“You want the children, but I’m not ready to give them to you.”
This time, she looks at me. I want to trample whoever is responsible for the look in her eyes, even if I bear part of that guilt.
“For now, I’ll give you partial responsibility for the children. I’ll authorize you to look after them, but only under my supervision. As I said earlier, you and they will move into my penthouse.”
“But—”
“It’s not up for debate. I can’t hold you by force.” That’s a lie, and we both know it.
“I can’t force you to take care of yourself, either.” Another lie.
“But I can and will see to the safety of these children. And the people responsible for them cannot be broken.”
“I’m unfixable,” she whispers.
“I’ll take the risk. All you have to do is listen to my instructions. From today, I’m your capo. And the first order I give you is to take care of yourself. Is that clear? Now eat.”
Her movements are slow and hesitant, but she sits up and pulls the soup toward her. She nibbles on the fish as well, not looking at me the whole time.
No doubt, she can feel my fury.
While she eats and sips at the glass of water the nurse brought in, I pace the room. The nurse comes in to take blood and put in an IV and is satisfied to know that Maricela has eaten something.
After what seems like the longest time, I ask, “Where have you been?”
“All around the world.”
“That’s not an answer, Maricela. Where have you been?” I ask again.
“Will you answer me as well?”
Confused by her question, I give her a look. “What?”
“Why? Why did you lie to me? Why did you make me yours if you never wanted me?”
I hurt her. I can see it now. Fuck, I’ll pay for that as well.
“Franco didn’t like the way you talked to me the first day I met you. It presented me as someone weak in his eyes. He’s a brutal son of a bitch, but what he did manage to teach me was resilience.”
“So, I was collateral damage.”
“At first, yes, but then you became everything. From the day you refused that damn dress,” I study her face and see nothing there. Not a single recollection of that day. “You’ve never left my mind since the day you didn’t want to wear the evening dress to your sister’s wedding.”
“Can you tell me everything?” This is something I can do. Fuck, I’ll tell her anything as long as she stays willingly.
“Will you tell me your truth? Why did you run away? Why did you become a ghost? I looked for you everywhere, and you hid in the most dangerous places in the world? Did you hate me that much?”
She shakes her head, looking at the white floor instead of me.
I tell her everything about Franco’s control over me, Maddox, Liam, Kai, Newt, and even Raven. I can see she didn’t want to know that, but she asked for the truth, and now she has to bear it with me.
After a while, she asks, “Now what?” She sounds weak and defeated.
“Now, I punish you for the rest of our lives.”