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“At first, everything was great. He took me out of that foster home, which was a war zone. The older kids were monsters, picking on the younger kids and tormenting them whenever the adults had their backs turned.”

“Kids can be so cruel. I see that at school sometimes. We try to intervene, but we can’t always be there.”

“I know. Most of the kids came from drug-addicted parents. Some of the kids were addicts themselves. They’d score drugs at school. High school, junior high, hell, even kids in elementary school had access to drugs. There were plenty of dealers looking for customers, and those kids were easy targets. They just wanted to forget everything they’d been though. In a way, I can see why they didn’t fight their addiction. Numbing the pain was the only way to survive.”

I shake my head. Those poor children had enough to handle already. They didn’t need predators circling them, too.

“After we left the house, Blackstone took me shopping for new clothes. We went to the mall and bought so much stuff he had to have extra people around to help carry the bags. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven. But it was hell, Julia. I just didn’t know it yet.”

I’m afraid of what he’s going to tell me next, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to say anything that’ll make him stop talking. This is the most he’s told me about his past, and I need to know everything.

“Jonathan Blackstone is the devil in disguise. He fools everyone with his PR campaigns about helping children. He doesn’t help them. He destroys them in the worst way possible. If I’d known then what I know now, I would have thrown myself out of his limo and gladly died on the highway. I had no idea what he had in store for me. Not a clue.”

“When did you realize he wasn’t who he claimed to be?” I ask.

“The moment the cameras turned off. He didn’t say a word to me after we left the mall. We sat in the back of his limo, alone. He kept trying to get me to sit closer to him, but suddenly, I had a weird feeling about him. Something didn’t seem right. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I think we all have an innate instinct toward danger. I felt sick to my stomach. I told him I didn’t want to go with him anymore and that I wanted to go back to the foster home.”

“Because at least when you were there, you knew what to expect from the other kids.”

“Exactly. Better the devil you know,” he quips.

I rub my thumb across the back of his hand.

“When we got to the ranch, huge iron gates opened to let the limo in. We pulled up in front of a huge mansion. It was in the middle of nowhere. Blackstone owns an enormous property, which is patrolled by heavily armed guards. I thought they were there to keep people out. They weren’t. They wanted to keep us in.”

“There were other kids at the mansion?”

“Yes. At least ten others. Sometimes more. Sometimes less. Some didn’t last longer than a few days. Others survived years.”

“Survived? Wait, what do you mean they didn’t last longer than a few days?”

“He tortured and killed them. Then he’d claim they ran away.”

“Holy shit.” I’m suddenly lightheaded. There’s no reason for Scar to lie about this, but it’s so overwhelming my mind struggles to believe it.

“I never found out for sure, but I suspected the kids who were murdered were buried somewhere on his property.”

“How could he get away with this? Didn’t anyone say anything? People working there had to know what was going on. Kids don’t just vanish!”

“Thousands of kids go missing every year. And that’s just in the U.S. I don’t even want to think about how many vanish internationally. I don’t think all the kids were from here. Some barely spoke English.”

I have a million questions and don’t even know where to start. “What did Blackstone tell the police? Someone had to realize the kids were missing.”

“He told anyone who asked that the children ran away. He cried big crocodile tears about it whenever there were cameras. But the minute the cops or the media left, he’d take his rage out on us.”

Scar’s trembling, but I don’t think he realizes it. I pull him into my arms and kiss his temple. He’s rigid at first but gradually relaxes into my arms. He closes his eyes and sighs.

“That first night, after everyone left, he showed me who he really was. He took me into a bedroom. I thought it was mine until he opened the closet. It was filled with … with …” He jerks his head up to meet my gaze. I look into his haunted gray eyes and send him all the compassion in my heart. He lets out a shaky breath before laying his head on my chest. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“That’s okay,” I murmur, stroking his back. He’s already revealed far more than I ever expected. It’s enough for now, and he obviously needs a break. His story is too horrifying to comprehend. I can’t imagine what he went through. Now I know why he refuses to talk about it.

He doesn’t move or speak for several minutes, but I sense a war inside him. He wants to tell me more, but he’s struggling. I don’t know if it’s shame or if he just can’t figure out how to tell me what happened. Either way, he needs time, and I won’t push him. He’s already told me enough to explain the nightmares. I’m afraid to hear any more details. My mind is conjuring up all manner of horrors, and they might be nothing compared to what he suffered.

“When he finished using me, he threw me in the dungeon,” Scar whispers.

“Dungeon?”

“Below the mansion. Down some old wooden steps. It was so cold, especially in the winter. All stone. And rats. I didn’t sleep that night because I thought one would chew off my toes.”