Page 62 of Tortured Souls

The expression on his face makes me want to instantly burst into tears. This man lost his wife and daughter, and I am now the one adding to his pain by not listening to him when he said I shouldn’t go. Dark rings circle his eyes, and I can tell he’s been crying by how bloodshot they are. I want to get up and wrap my arms around him. I want to tell him how stupid I feel and how sorry I am for putting him through this worry. I want to get out of this fucking bed and hug the two men I love most. But everything still hurts. So fucking bad.

“Mack, I’m so sorry.” I know I’m whispering, but I can’t talk any louder for fear of bursting into hysterical sobs again. His head snaps up, eyes wide, and a lone tear snags on the scruff he’s let grow out on his face.

“Sweetheart.” More tears follow. Pinching his lips tight, he tries to control his emotions, but it’s a losing battle. His brows release the tension they were holding, and he closes his eyes tight, inhaling a calming breath.

“You scared this old man.” He leans over, kissing my forehead, and I lose my own fight and let the tears burn my eyes, falling from the corners.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mack.” He raises his hand, stopping me.

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I’m sorry you went through all that. The idea that anyone could hurt you makes my old father’s heart angry. I wish I could have stopped them.” I try to shake my head in disagreement, but it feels like someone took a sledgehammer to my entire body.

“Mack, don’t do this, please. Don’t hurt because of me. I did this to myself.”

“No,” he says louder than he intended, making Saxon stir in his sleep. “You did nothing wrong, Sky. Do you hear me? Nothing. The only thing you did was be born into that family, and if I had the will to turn back time and alter fate, I would change that for you. I would save you.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, Mack pulling my hand to his cheek. I watch as relief slowly cascades throughout his body. His facial expression relaxes, and his breathing becomes steady. I wonder if he thought I wouldn’t wake up? I know I’m not his daughter, and he is not my father, but at this moment, I have never felt closer to this man. A stranger who helped me the moment I stepped foot in this town and never let me fail. From the very beginning, he was a father to me, seeing me at a point in my life where desperation doesn’t even begin to explain the state I was in. He saw my pain, my struggle, and my fear and pointed me in the direction of success.

Two broken souls that I’m convinced were brought together on this path by fate to find healing together. To rebuild a life that’s no longer centered around the trauma we hold on to. We needed each other, even when I didn’t know it myself. He is the role model I’d always dreamed of having in my life, and I am the daughter he lost all those years ago, giving him the chance to use his fatherly heart to care for someone other than himself.

“I love you, Mack,” I whisper, my bottom lip trembling as I watch the man I wish was my father. He is my father; he will always be the father I prayed for.

“I love you too, kiddo.” Kissing the top of my hand, he lets out a deep sigh of relief. “But I have to tell you, you are so grounded.” I finally laugh, a sensation that almost feels foreign to me. The pain is excruciating, but I let the warmth of the moment wash over me entirely.

“Yes, Dad,” I say back to him. A smile spreads wide across his face as we fall back into comfortable silence. We chat a little more about life, nothing too heavy or about what happened to me. We talk about going to the café again for another breakfast date, and I agree. I ask about his bar and how it’s doing, even though I’ve only been gone for about forty-eight hours. It’s nice to talk about life with him.

Just as Saxon begins to stir again, Mack and I say our goodbyes, and I promise to call him when I’m discharged. Giving me a kiss on the head one last time, he leaves my room with a happier expression than when I woke up.

“He’s a good man.” A deep, gruff voice draws my attention to the other man I love most. Saxon Wilder stares into my eyes with so many emotions I can’t interpret what he’s currently feeling.

“How’re you feeling, baby?”

I let out a pained groan as I try to sit up a bit more. There’s a pain in my ass that I know is from lying in the same position for too long. Immediately, he stands and helps me sit up. When I’m finally in a comfortable position, I let out a deep breath. The short movement alone has made me exhausted. I’m in for a long road of recovery, and that is annoying as fuck.

Saxon unhooks the bar and lowers it from the side of the bed, allowing him to sit on the edge of the mattress. With his hand resting across my thighs, he looks at me as though he wants to say something, but he’s holding back.

“What is it?” I ask. The way he pinches his eyebrows together shows me he has something on his mind.

“I learned more about your brother and his involvement.”

I inhale a sharp breath, my world crashing down on me once again as I remember that my twin brother has been alive all this time. With dark eyes, Saxon watches me closely, waiting for me to respond and see if this is not the best time to talk about this.

“I don’t understand. I watched him die, Saxon. There is no way he could have survived.” Brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear, he cups my cheek, letting me know he’s here and grounding me when I’m sure whatever he’s about to say is going to hurt.

“He was on the edge of death. You’re right, he should have died. Seven was placed into a coma and sure enough, twelve weeks later, the swelling in his brain went down and he was ableto pull through.” I shake my head back and forth. This can’t be true. I watched him with my own eyes take his last breath. I watched him be taken away in an ambulance.

“I was at his funeral though. I still don’t understand.”

“Your parents lied to you, tesoro. They wanted you to believe he died for what reason at the time, I’m not sure. When Seven woke up, he’d lost all memory of who he was. His entire life up to that point was completely washed from his subconscious. He couldn’t even identify Sergio or Sylvia in the hospital when they told him they were his parents.” He takes a deep breath before continuing.

“Sergio took this time to raise him exactly how he wanted. He saw this as an opportunity to mold him into a perfect soldier, a perfect heir. He knew if he told you he was alive, you would do everything in your power to help him remember who he truly was. He lost the pair of you already to his madness once. He needed a son that would comply with his demands, to do and be whoever he wanted. He created the perfect son in his eyes and kept him hidden from you.”

If the world could tilt on its axis and truly scramble the last bit of sanity I had left, this would be the time. Seven is alive. My twin is alive. Then again, he’s not. He’s someone I can’t even recognize. A monster made by another just to take over the club my father loves more than anything else in this world. A. Fucking. Club.

“Where are they now?” I ask, expecting him to tell me they are already dead, but his answer surprises me.

“In the basement in the woods. I wanted to wait for you to see what you wanted to do with them. Or see if you want to take care of them yourself. After all, they are the last names on your list, baby.” I can’t help but smile a little. Knowing how much this whole game of mine meant to me, he held back his anger and thirst for blood until he spoke with me first.

“However, I can’t promise you they will be breathing for very much longer, especially if I keep letting Finn down there.” He rolls his eyes as he says this.