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"Lily, do you need help?" Sammi asks in a hushed tone.
"Nope." I turn to face her. "Let's go finish this, shall we?"
"Alcohol seems to make you brave and stupid," she says, scratching next to her ear.
Everything's fuzzy and the room spins slightly. "No sense in hiding anymore, you all know the truth now."
She sighs loudly and turns to leave. I follow her, unsteadily, back to the living room where the team and Blake wait. I stop in the middle of the room and spin slowly, my arms held out.
"Take a good fucking look. You wanted to know what I've been hiding. Here it is."
I face them. Jax's shoulders slump, defeated. I shake my head, refusing to feel sorry for him. I'm the one drunk and flaunting my shame to the world.
"What are the crosses down your leg," Dresden asks.
Slowly, I run my finger along the brands littering my skin from hip to knee. "My reminder."
"What," Blake says, shock evident in his voice.
"One cross for every owner for the last nineteen years."
Several gasps echo around me.
"You did that to yourself," Vlad says, his mouth hanging open.
"Yeah," I chuckle darkly. "Soon I guess I'll have to add another one."
Jax's head snaps up. I want to scream at him. Sammi's thoughts invade my alcohol-addled mind.
"You could've said no, Lily," Jax snaps, standing. "I gave you a choice."
I laugh, short and sharp, knowing he isn't talking about the current undercover assignment.
"Choice? I was seventeen." I take a step toward him, anger unraveling from deep inside me. "I'd just fucking stabbed someone to death."
"What?" several voices say at once.
"We needed someone like you. You wanted revenge. Win-win," Jax says with no emotion in his voice.
"What did I win, Jax? A life back in the auctions? Ten years and the only form of touch I've been able to tolerate is taking another person's life."
"You're point? You didn't have to kill them, Lily."
You're right. I wanted to kill them. Every one of them.
"How many people have you killed?" Blake folds his arms across his chest.
"Six hundred sixty-four in ten years," Sammi says.
I shudder. That's a lot of bodies.
"Jesus Christ," he breathes.
"See, Blake. You've no idea what you want . . . because you have no idea who I am, or what I'm capable of," I whisper.
The energy runs from my body. My knees buckle and I'm spent— deflated, a popped balloon. The floor rushes up to meet me, pain lancing through my head as darkness closes in.
Every time avoice reaches my ears, I stir from my sleep, but my eyes won't open as if I'm in an alcohol induced coma. They echo and sound distant, but I can still make them out.