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I Was Never Here

Hypothetical Question: Never be able to lie again, or every word you say is a lie?

Carina

A sharp knock at my father’s door yanks me from my haze.

My eyes snap to Nate’s—I hadn’t even noticed how close he was.

“Who is it?” I croak, my throat raw from crying.

He starts to answer, but a furious voice cuts through the air, freezing him in place.

“Dominic Beckett, you get out here right now!”

That voice—

“If you’ve harmed one hair on her head—”

My legs move before I can think. I reach for the door, but Kai’s arm snakes around my waist, yanking me back.

“What are you doing?” he hisses against my ear.

I twist in his grasp, panic clawing up my throat. The walls press in, suffocating me.

Nate rounds the corner, his gaze darkening at the way Kai is holding me.

“Mate, I love you. But get your hands off my traumatised girlfriend before I cut them off.”

Kai releases me like I burned him, palms up. “Shit. Sorry, Carina.”

I drop to the floor, gasping, trying to convince my body that I’m safe.

“It’s okay,” I rasp.

Nate crouches in front of me, eyes searching mine. “Who’s at the door, baby?”

I blink at him. “Doctor Morgan. My therapist.”

Another knock—louder this time.

“I’m not leaving until I see her with my own eyes!”

I push myself up.

“I have to talk to her.”

Nate nods but frowns. “Not like that, Princess. You’re covered in blood.”

I glance down. He’s right.

Enzo, who’s been watching from the sidelines, shrugs off his top and hands it to me.

Nate growls in disapproval.

I shake my head. “You’re just as messy.”

Nate pouts but doesn’t argue.

After swapping my ruined clothes for the shirt and washing the worst of the blood from my face, I step into the hall.

“I’ll talk to her outside.”

The three of them nod, but tension radiates from them like a storm about to break.

Carefully, I open the door—just enough to peek out.

“Carina!”

Doctor Morgan shoves the door open before I can stop her. Her normally sleek brown bob is disheveled, and her face is bare. Unlike her typical pencil skirt and blouse, she's wearing joggers and a t-shirt. I've never seen her look so disorganised.

She doesn’t even register the guys standing behind me. Her frantic gaze locks onto mine.

“I’ve been texting you like crazy! You haven’t checked in in months! You just disappeared! Then I saw the news conference—what the fuck is going on?”

She finally stops to inhale—then sees them.

Sees Nate. The blood splattered across his clothes. His face.

Her wide eyes snap back to me. “What—”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before bolting past me.

A bloodcurdling scream shatters the air.

I wince.

She’s found the bodies.

No one moves. We’re all frozen, locked in place, the reality of what comes next slamming into us.

My body unfreezes first. I move toward her, casting a glance over my shoulder at the three men still rooted in place.

“Stay here. Let me talk to her.”

Without waiting for a reply, I follow the sharp intake of her breaths until I find her.

Doctor Morgan stands rigid, horror carved into her face as she takes in the gruesome scene. My father and his men—butchered. Arranged like trophies.

“I can explain,” I start, but the words feel hollow. I don’t even know how to explain this to myself.

I step towards her. To comfort her? To stop her from running? I don’t know. But her body trembles as she backs away.

“What did you do?” she whispers, almost as if talking to herself. Then louder: “What did you do?”

“I… You know what he did to me.” My excuse feels weak, even to myself. Now that my justice is done, I no longer know if what I did was worth it. If by taking their lives, I’ve lost myself in the process.

“You… I was supposed to help you heal from your trauma, not create it.” Her voice cracks. “I failed.”

I restrain myself from rushing forward. “No!” My voice is too loud in the otherwise quiet space. The only other sound coming from Doctor Morgan’s sharp breaths. “You didn’t fail me. You have no idea how much you helped me.”

I shake my head.

“I had so much rage. So much anger. I wanted—no needed—justice. I never would have got it if I didn’t go after it myself.”

I let my words wash over me. Let them seep into my soul.

I don’t regret my actions. I just don’t know where to go from here.

Doctor Morgan’s face twists, like she’s battling internally with herself.

“I should go to the police.”

“Please! You can’t—”

“You didn’t let me finish,” she interrupts. “I should go to the police. God help me, I should. But… I can’t. I can’t do that. Not to you. I understand why you did it.”

She shakes her head, her voice steadying, her hands no longer trembling.

“I… I was never here.”

My head snaps toward her.

“What?”

“I didn’t see this,” she whispers, as she steps back.

“Doc—”

“Carina.” Her voice wavers. “I haven’t been your therapist in a long time. Please, God, call me Emily.”

The name feels wrong in my mouth. “Emily…”

She grabs my hands, squeezing tight, before pulling me into a hug.

“I know what you’ve been through, sweetheart. You don’t have to explain this to me. But I can’t be involved.” Her breath stutters. “I’m going to go. You do… whatever you need to do.”

My head jerks in a nod, my mind clouded with confusion.

“You’re not mad?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “I’m disappointed… in myself. For not seeing how much you were struggling. How much rage you were holding in.” Her eyes flick to my father’s body. “But him? He had it coming.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth, horrified. “I did not just say that.”

I let out a shaky breath. “Can I still text you?”

There’s a brief pause, and for a moment, I’m worried she’ll say no.

But then she nods. “Of course. Just… never about this.”

At the front door, she pulls me into another hug before turning to the men still watching.

Her gaze lands on Nate.

She leans in, voice barely a whisper. “The one with blood on his face… that’s Nate?”

I nod.

She squares her shoulders, stepping toward him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for my girl.” Her eyes sharpen. “But if you ever hurt her, I don’t care how dangerous you are—I will haunt you until the end of time.”

Nate scoffs, snapping out of his panicked freeze state. “I would die for her. If I ever hurt her, I’d twist the knife myself.”

Her gaze sweeps over Kai before landing on Enzo.

She blinks. “Carina Rossetti, you are full of surprises.”

Her lips part as she studies Enzo. “Lorenzo Russo. Never thought I’d meet you in person.”

Enzo’s mask slips for a second before he smirks. “My reputation precedes me.”

My brows furrow. “How do you know who he is?”

Emily scoffs. “I’ve lived in Italy for twenty years, sweetheart. You think I don’t know the son of Massimo Russo?”

Enzo’s grin turns lethal. “Then you know what happens if you talk.”

He crosses his arms, trying to look intimidating, but the fact that he’s still shirtless ruins the effect.

Emily nods. “My lips are sealed.”

Then she’s gone.

My breath leaves me all at once.

My house feels wrong. Like it belongs to someone else.

A different version of myself.

It no longer feels like mine.

“Come on, let’s get you showered and into bed, Princess.” Nate places his hands on my shoulders, steering me towards the stairs.

My legs carry my forward numbly.

After Doctor Morgan's visit, Kai and Enzo finished the cleanup, giving Nate and me the green light to go home.

Now the adrenaline from her visit has left me, I’m back to feeling empty.

I don’t know what to do. How to go on with my life now my purpose is complete.

For seven years, I was broken down into a girl I no longer recognised. The only Naomi Beckett I remember.

Then, I spent eight years living as Carina Rossetti. She was fuelled by rage, by a vengeance that simmered under her skin.

Who am I now?

Somehow, we make it to the bathroom—I don’t remember any of it, only realising when I flinch to the sound of the shower turning on.

Nate places a hand under my chin, tilting my head to meet his eyes. Those dark brown eyes I love so much. It doesn’t matter that they came from Edward. They have none of his evil. Nate’s eyes are all good. They look at me like I’m the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re going to be okay, Princess.”

He helps me undress, then takes my hand, pulling me under the spray with him.

I rest my head against his chest as the warm water cascades over my skin. His presence grounds me. It keeps me from falling too far.

Nate grabs my shampoo from the caddy, lathering up his hands before massaging it into my scalp. I moan at the way the tension leaves my body.

Once the shampoo is rinsed, he moves onto the conditioner, repeating the process.

Then he lathers a sponge with the shower gel and drags it over my skin, scrubbing every inch of me.

“Arms up.” He taps my shoulder. I lift them and I giggle at the tickling sensation of him cleaning my underarms.

“It’s good to hear you laugh, baby.”

Nate drops to his knees in front of me, running the sponge slowly down my legs. Gently, he cleans the thick, rope-like scars on my thighs—the ones that still make my stomach twist.

He rinses the soap away first, then presses a soft kiss to the raised lines.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

A tear slips down my cheek as my throat tightens. It’s like he knows exactly what I need before I even find the words.

He taps my foot, indicating for me to lift it. I grasp his shoulders to keep upright as he very thoroughly cleans each of my feet.

He leaves no part of me untouched. But it’s not sexual. It’s just intimacy in its purest form—care, devotion, a silent promise that I’m not alone.

I do the same for him.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Once we’re both clean Nate switches off the shower, then wraps me in a big fluffy pink towel I hadn’t noticed him place on the radiator to warm up.

By the time we’re lying in bed, my head resting on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, I feel more at peace.

Not whole yet. Not myself.

But a little less lost.

“I love you, Carina. I’ll always be here to pick you back up.”

A tear squeezes from my eye. “I love you too,” I whisper, the words so easy to say. Nothing like before when I feared them.

Nate tightens his arms around me.

I drift to sleep, feeling like maybe, just maybe, I might come out the other side of this.