Chapter 10 Scars and Secrets
SCARS AND SECRETS
Humiliation and numbness consume me as Scarlet’s words replay in my head.
Bottom feeders.
What would she think of me if she knew that’s where I’ve been living for the past year?
A sharp knock on the door has me twisting and finding Daire. His amber eyes relax the moment our gazes meet. “Do you want to stay or...”
I shake my head as I stand. “No. I want to be there.” I turn to Scarlet, forcing a smile. “I promise I’ll get this sorted, so you don’t have to stay here.”
I step back and bump into Daire, who moved silently, like the shadows that extend from him.
He sets a hand on my arm, steadying me. The warmth of his touch grounds me as Scarlet’s assurance replaces her condemnation. There’s no one you will trust, depend on, or care more deeply for than your Mates.
“Dinner will be ready in an hour. Would you like me to have someone come and get you?” he asks Scarlet.
“I’ll find my way down,” she tells him and lifts the plate of tarts. “Here. You should take these.”
Daire gives her a puzzled look but accepts them. He moves his other hand from my arm to my spine. His touch is so warm. So gentle. So intimate.
I step out of his reach and head for the door.
“You don’t have to do this now,” he says, catching up to me in the hall. “We have time.”
“I want answers.”
Daire swallows what I’m guessing is an objection, and then slowly nods.
As we reach the bottom of the stairs, Daire’s hand finds my waist again.
I tense but don’t pull away as he guides me to the left through another wide arch.
We pass through room after room—each as extravagant as the last. My gaze lingers on the formal dining room, large enough to seat a small army.
The crystal glasses and porcelain settings are pristine. Untouched.
I bite my tongue to stop a flood of questions as I wonder if the space is for family celebrations, or if it’s all for show like the formal dining room I grew up with—untouched three hundred and sixty-four days until Christmas when extended family came and gathered around.
The memory pokes a thread loose that I quickly tuck back into place and knot. This isn’t the time or place to unravel.
We pass two more rooms before reaching a doorway. Inside, the scent of books greets me before I can register the towering shelves.
A library sprawls before me, not just a showpiece with untouched volumes, but a sanctuary of knowledge, entertainment, and comfort.
My breath catches as my gaze sweeps across the impossibly high vaulted ceilings, where dark mahogany bookshelves climb toward the ornate crown molding.
Amber light spills from antique brass sconces, casting a honeyed glow across leather-bound spines and creating pockets of warmth in the vastness.
I could lose myself here, forgetting time, forgetting my own name.
Instead, four sets of eyes pull my attention to the large seating area in the center of the room.
Lochlan sits in an armchair, a glass of clear liquid in his hand, tie loosened. Kai and Holden are on one couch. Griffin sits across from them on the other couch.
I barely suppress my flinch when Daire subtly directs me to the spot beside Griffin before sitting on my other side, sandwiching me between their much larger bodies.
Daire sets the plate of tarts on the table separating the couches, then leans back, somehow moving even closer to me.
My shoulders and thighs brush both of theirs.
I don’t know if it’s the heat of their bodies or the scents of eucalyptus and mint, cinnamon and cloves that trigger thoughts of the three of us naked and in the throes of passion—only this time, the others in the room are watching.
Humiliation marks my cheeks before shame slams the lid on those thoughts.
Griffin swallows roughly as his thigh presses more firmly against mine.
I work on making myself smaller, on taking up less room, but with every millimeter I shift away, he doubles, pressing even closer.
Across from me, Kai pops his knuckles.
“Sorry to interrupt.” Edmond strides in with a large tome. “I’ll look for more resources, but this came to mind first.” He sets the book on the table near Kai. Without waiting for an acknowledgment, he leaves, the gold title on the book a secret that intrigues me more than it should.
Holden clears his throat. “We need you to tell us about everyone you’ve met—everyone you’ve been in contact with—while in… prison.”
A new wave of shame rips through me like a blade at his visible judgment.
I loathe that I still feel responsible—deserving—of everything that happened to me in the past year.
Kai pushes a binder toward me. “We thought it might be easier to point out anyone you know.”
I reach for the three-ring binder and feel another spike of adrenaline as soon as I open the cover. Staring back at me are rows of mugshots.
“What would a curse feel like?” I ask. “Would I know if someone cursed me?”
Holden’s gaze sharpens. “It depends on who did it and if they were an Elemental.” He gestures toward the binder. “Tell us who you know.”
My grip tightens until the sharp edge threatens to cut my skin. I welcome the sting. “First, I want to discuss Scarlet.”
Lochlan scoffs. “You’re not in a position to bargain, Witchling.”
Holden surprises me by ignoring him. “What do you want to discuss?”
“I don’t want her associated with me. If I’m going to be persecuted or…” I shake my head, racing to recall what they mentioned earlier and why it had them wanting to tie Scarlet to my story. “I don’t want her fate twisted with mine.”
“We’ll uphold our promise as long as she honors the agreement.” Griffin’s words feel like a betrayal.
“The only alternative is to have Loch try to erase her memories again, but there are risks involved since he already made a couple of attempts,” Daire says.
My stomach plummets. “What kind of risks?”
“She could forget who she is, or basic functions. Instincts,” Griffin tells me.
I hate considering which alternative is less cruel. “So, for now, you’re just going to kidnap her?”
“She’s here as a guest,” Lochlan corrects. “So long as she follows the rules.”
“You mean your rules.” My tone is as icy as the world outside.
His gaze is unrelenting as it turns cunning.
“The fastest way to resolve this is for you to tell us what happened so we can research plausible connections,” Holden says. “Do you know anyone on that page?”
I scan the faces again. “I know every one of them.”
Silence crashes down, heavy and suffocating.
Holden stills.
Something dangerous flickers in Kai’s gaze.
Lochlan narrows his eyes like he can strip the truth from me.
“Did any of them ever ask where you were from?” Holden prompts impatiently. “Or about your abilities?”
“We weren’t friends,” I say sharply. “I knew everyone because it was necessary.”
“Necessary for what?” Lochlan asks.
I meet his eyes, forgetting that they’re not truly silver. Distrust rolls off him in heavy waves. “Survival.”
Lochlan doesn’t look away, doesn’t even seem fazed by my response, but Griffin quietly swears.
“What about the next page? Did you have contact with any of those women?” Holden asks.
I scan over the familiar faces. “We all ate at the same time. These three were on the floor above me and worked in groundskeeping.” I point to a woman with a shaved head.
“She was in a cell block near me, but she worked in maintenance. These women are all from the third floor, which means they worked offsite.” I relay the duties and floor of each woman for three pages before my gaze zeros in on a face.
“Who do you recognize?” Holden asks, leaning forward.
I must have flinched, or maybe I paled.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
Lochlan takes a long drink.
Holden leans forward. “We won’t find answers if you’re not honest with us.”
My finger hovers over the page before pointing out the woman with short, light hair. “She stabbed me with a sharpened toothbrush handle.”
Griffin’s hand clenches into a fist so tight that his knuckles are bone white.
“What color was the wound?” Holden asks. “Curses are notoriously black, sometimes a dark purple.”
Daire runs a hand down his face.
I shake my head, irritated at feeling so damn vulnerable. “I couldn’t see it. It was on my back.”
Holden types something into his phone. “Let’s continue.” He glances at me with those dark eyes and then at Lochlan.
The woman I’d burned while I was asleep is two pages later, another horror story I’d rather forget but share.
On the following page is the woman who tried to remove my uterus, telling me I was the devil and shouldn’t be able to conceive. I keep those details to myself.
I share about the women I worked with, the ones I avoided, and the ones who feared me.
Kai begins pacing when Holden asks me about the injuries I endured from three women on the final page. I point out the woman who broke my arm.
Daire cleaves a pillow in half when I point out the one who gave me a concussion.
My head aches at the memory of the woman who broke my nose with a food tray before reaching the pages of guards. I can still taste blood when I look at them.
“The only time I dealt with the guards was when they were taking me to or from a session or roll call.”
“A session?” Kai asks, dropping his gaze to where my thumbs press against my second knuckle on each hand.
I slide my hands under the binder. “They wanted to know how I lit people on fire.”
“What did you tell them?” Lochlan demands.
“The truth. That I had no idea. That it wasn’t possible.”
As Griffin’s hands form into tight fists again, I force my thoughts to go blank. I hate that the toughest year of my life has been laid bare for these strangers, hate even more that a part of me had believed hoped that Scarlet was right about Mates.
A collective silence passes through the room as I regret coming down here—regret allowing them to steer the conversation when I’d expected to ask my own questions.
I try to keep my hands from trembling. “Do I pass?”