Page 20 of Bought (BOUGHT TRILOGY #1)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lucian

She takes my hand in hers, her small fingers brushing over mine, inspecting every scar, as if trying to read my past in the ridges of my skin. I let her, when I haven’t let anyone else.

“Tell me about the girl,” she says quietly. “The one you lost.”

My jaw tightens.

“Why?” I ask, not hiding the edge in my voice.

She shrugs, pretending not to care too much, but I know better. She’s trying to get inside, trying to climb over my walls.

“There must be a reason,” I push.

Her gaze flicks up to meet mine. “I want to know you better.”

Something deep in my chest stirs.

No woman outside our family wants to know me better. They want my money. My power. My name. But she’s different. And that scares the shit out of me.

“Okay,” I say slowly, carefully, like every word is a step into dangerous territory. “What do you want to know about?”

“Well, for starters,” she hesitates, “what was her name?”

“Isobel,” I answer, and the name burns like whiskey. “We called her Izzy.”

She twines her fingers through mine, so fucking tender it almost undoes me. “Isobel. That’s pretty. What was she like?”

“She was pretty. Strong. Funny.” My voice turns flat and distant, edging toward the past. “And then… she was gone.”

I can feel Erin’s curiosity simmering beneath her silence. She wants to know more. I’m not sure if I can give it to her.

“What happened?” she asks, almost a whisper. “How did she die?”

Silence stretches long between us. I don’t want to go there. But she’s looking at me like she sees me.

“Betrayal,” I finally say, the word like poison on my tongue.

“Betrayal?” She flinches, her hand slipping from mine. Is she afraid of the darkness I carry?

It’s too late to stop.

“I was set up,” I continue, my tone going sharp.

“Everyone in my gang knew I was receiving a shipment that night on the East River, down by the Harbor. I had my closest men with me, ready to pull the cargo off the ship. We’d load up the trucks, then head to the warehouse on Long Island to store them.

We’d done it a dozen times. It was just another night. ”

Until it wasn’t.

“We were loading up the last box when I heard the first round of shots.” My throat closes, and I don’t finish that part of the story, diving for cover, the shouts, the anguished cries of dying men.

“Someone from our group had to leak the plans on purpose. There was no reason for a rival gang to know where we were and what we were doing. Someone betrayed me, and lives were lost.”

“And Isobel?” she asks.

“Isobel always asked to tag along. I never let her. Izzy wasn’t supposed to be there that night, but she didn’t listen. She was waiting for me back at the warehouse, probably hoping to join us for our usual 3 am breakfast after the job. I caught a glimpse of her. Then… nothing. Gone.”

I exhale slowly. “I thought—hoped—she made it out alive. But I never saw her again after that night.”

She drags a finger over the ridge running down my chest. “And the scars?”

“Rafe warned me not to go back into the warehouse when the shots died down. But I had to. I needed to find her.” Her body. “It was another trap. They were waiting for me to show up. Before I even had time to search, I heard shouts, felt the cold splash of liquid, and the strike of a match.”

She stares at me, not horrified by me or my scars, but by what was done to me.

“I was wearing a thick jacket, but it was open at the front. The lighter fluid soaked through my thin shirt, but luckily, I moved quickly. I managed to wrap my arms around myself, roll over the concrete, and extinguish the fire. I got out after that and found out later that they took the cargo and burned the warehouse down.”

It wasn’t enough to kill me. It was a warning: move on.

And I did.

But I’ve carried Isobel with me all this time.

Erin’s eyes search my face, then my chest, like she’s trying to find the rest of the story etched somewhere on my skin. “You never found her body?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I didn’t get the chance to before the fire. I was in and out of consciousness at the hospital.”

“But the day of the hit.” She reaches for my hand, holding it in hers, a comfort. “You did see other bodies, right?”

“Yes.” I swallow the tightness in my throat, picturing my men in my mind’s eye.

“And when I got out of the hospital after the fire, I went back. Again. One more time to look for her. But the entire place had burned down.” I’m ashamed to admit, “I dug through the ashes but couldn’t find so much as a bracelet of hers. "

“That’s strange,” she says, thinking. “Even when people are cremated, there’s something left behind. A tooth. A piece of bone. Something.”

I stare at the ceiling. “I was in shock. Maybe I missed something?” I get quiet.

A moment later, her soft hand is on my arm. “Lucian…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound callous…”

“No, just thinking.”

Is there something to what she’s saying?

With Erin here, I almost feel like I’m at the base of a mountain, ready to climb to the peak, gaze out over the beauty of the world, and finally heal. It’s a long journey, but with Erin at my side, I believe I could start.

I wonder if it’s best not to drag up the past on nothing more than a whim.

“She may be gone.” Her voice softens. “But she’s still in there.” She brings her hand to my heart.

And I grab it up, thanking her with a kiss, for seeing me, for understanding. Sharing with her is freeing me, bit by bit. I want to chase that feeling.

“I want to show you something I’ve never shared with anyone.”

She stares with reverence. Watching without a word.

I reach down and pull my waistband down just enough to reveal the scar carved into my hip. A single letter. ‘I.’

Her breath catches.

Her fingertips brush the old wound like a question she’s afraid to ask.

I feel it then, that flicker of fear. Will I ever be free of Izzy? Or the guilt that made me carve the I into my skin, the tip of the knife pulling lines of blood from my skin.

Her hand goes back to my heart, her warm skin pressing against mine. “Is there room in there… for someone new?”

And with that one question, she lays me bare.

I stare at her. The storm I never saw coming. “What do you think?”

She pokes me softly in the stomach, trying to shake the heaviness between us. “Tell me.”

“You’ve already wiggled your way in, babygirl.” She's carved herself into the spaces I thought were dead.

Pleased with my response, she beams a sunny smile. She sits up, trying to shift the mood. “We’d better be going if we’re going to make dinner.”

I groan, dropping my head to the pillow. “Then we’ve got a problem.”

Her shoulders stiffen. “What?”

I grin, the hunger already crawling back in. “I don’t want to go.”

She hesitates, then smiles. “I want to meet your family, but… I hate the thought of leaving this bed.”

“Then don’t.”

She bites her lip, clearly weighing the responsibility tugging at her and the want simmering beneath her skin. I watch every breath she takes like a predator, waiting.

“Ryan was so excited,” she says, though her tone lacks conviction. Still, responsibility tugs at her. “I hate to let him down.”

“We’ll reschedule for tomorrow. And I’ll make it worth his while.” I slip an arm around her waist, drawing her back into me, pressing her skin to mine. “Stay.”

She exhales like she’s been holding her breath. “Fine,” she smiles, then grabs her phone and holds it out to me. “But you’re the one who has to break the news to the kid.”

I’ll give that cute little kid whatever he wants if it means not leaving this room.

Because I’m not ready to let her go. Not now. Not tonight.

Not ever.