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16

Thea

T he sound of engines roaring penetrated my dreamscape. The burning, smoke-filled forest that surrounded the dream version of me faded. Fire was a recurring nightmare, probably a manifestation of my anxiety and emotional conflict about the awful things my father had made me do over the years.

Why was it so noisy? The dungeon had always been quiet, aside from the whimpering and screams of the monsters in my head. Unless I’d somehow astral projected into the middle of a Formula One race, the current level of background noise made no sense.

Rather than a cold cement floor, it felt as if I was lying on a bed, my cheek resting against a deliciously soft sheet. Last I checked, Dad’s dungeon didn’t boast 1,000 thread count Egyptian cotton bed linen.

I tried to juggle my most recent memories into some kind of order, but beyond the dungeon cell, there was nothing but a blank space. Was my father taking me somewhere? From the way the bed jostled, we were on the move.

Shit, I was on a plane. This couldn’t be good. I desperately wanted to open my eyes, but fear of what I might see kept them sealed shut.

Nothing good ever came from being knocked out and put on a plane. The last time that happened, I ended up back in the middle of my worst nightmares, burning forests not withstanding.

Someone stroked my cheek. The bed dipped. It was enough to break through my paralysis. If Torrance thought he could touch me while I slept, he was mistaken. My training kicked in and I lashed out.

“Ow!” yelled a familiar voice. Kyril? What the fuck was he doing on my father’s jet? Oh fuck. Had Dad captured them?

When I opened my eyes, Kyril stared down at me, blood spewing from his nose.

“Why are you on a plane with me?” I hissed, anxious not to attract attention. Not that I had a hope in hell of escaping if my father hovered nearby.

“We rescued you. Don’t you remember?”

What? How?!

I blinked. “So this isn’t my father’s jet?”

“No, it’s Declan’s jet.”

“Declan Kelly, Irish Mafia heir?” Now I was confused. Why would Declan lend Kyril his private jet? I thought the Irish and Russian mafias hated each other.

“Yeah. He agreed to help us rescue you. I think you need to speak to a doctor.” He looked worried, even though he was the one bleeding everywhere, not me.

“I’m fine.” At least I thought I was fine, a throbbing headache and massive holes in my memory aside. “Tell me what happened.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Being locked in the dungeon. It’s a blank after that.”

I needed to use a bathroom imminently, but moving a millimeter felt like a step too far. Every bit of me ached. Still, lying here on this bed wasn’t an option, so I dragged myself into a sitting position.

“Are you going to fill me in?”

“When we discovered who’d taken you after the fire on campus, which was Dario’s handiwork, by the way, we put a rescue plan in place.”

“You’re working with Declan Kelly now?” I scoffed.

“Only for this. He said he owed you, so he agreed to provide everything we needed, including a few of his guys. Dario provided the intel.”

My jaw dropped in surprise. “Dario helped you rescue me?” That made no fucking sense. He’d done nothing but spew vitriol in my face for weeks. Not to mention the fact he was the reason the guys all hated me.

An unwanted memory of Cassian’s face when he heard the audio clip sprang to mind, and I winced. It also reminded me there was a sex tape of me doing the rounds. Maybe it would be better for me if this plane stayed in a holding pattern for the rest of my days. I wasn’t sure I could face anyone again. Not knowing the whole world had seen my O face.

“We…talked. He explained why he’d been such a cunt to you.” Kyril looked awkward, which was so unlike him, my eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“Thea, as much as I want to bury the bastard in an unmarked grave, you should probably speak to him. He was told things about you, back when you were teens. Things he believed. Things that altered how he felt about you.”

He wasn’t making any sense. Or maybe it was the fact my head felt like it was about to burst like a ripe melon.

“I have no idea what you’re on about,” I admitted.

“The night you and he were supposed to…” His voice trailed off as a note of satisfaction crept in.

“The night he and I…?” Oh. The night we planned to lose our V-cards together. Only it never happened and I ended up giving mine to Kyril.

Kyril smirked when he saw my cheeks heat. That crazy bastard. He knew damn well reminding me was a bad idea. It had been ages since we… Oh . A sudden thought struck me. We’d had sex the night of the Christmas Gala. Without using contraception. I was supposed to visit a pharmacy for a morning-after pill. But Torrance kidnapped me and tossed me in the dungeon.

“So that night back when you were teens,” Kyril continued, oblivious to my mini-meltdown, “Torrance intercepted him and showed him some video footage of you.”

“Huh? What video?” I tried to concentrate on what Kyril was telling me, but all I could think about was the fact I might be pregnant.

“A video of you having sex with some other guys.”

My brow furrowed with confusion. I must have hit my head really hard. That made no sense whatsoever. I’d not had sex with anyone before Kyril.

“Torrance had deep-faked a video of you having sex. He showed it to Dario, who assumed it was true and that you’d been stringing him along. Torrance told him you thought he was pathetic, and he lost his shit. That’s why he disappeared on you. Torrance used it as a tool to recruit Dario into your father’s ranks. He’s been working for him ever since.”

“So Torrance showed Dario some lame video and instead of talking to me, he assumed it was real and decided I was the Whore of Babylon?”

Kyril nodded.

“Wow.” I didn’t know whether to punch Dario in the head for being such a stupid fuck or kill Torrance for ruining the one good thing I’d had back then. Except…wait. Oh yes. Killing Torrance had long been a life goal. Discovering he’d done something so cruel just made me want to kill him even more.

I shook my head. Now wasn’t the time to dig into old hurts. Not while I was dealing with so many other problems.

“He feels bad, Thea.” Kryil ground his teeth at the admission like it pained him to admit Dario had a guilt complex.

“How come you’re his cheerleader all of a sudden?”

He scowled. “I’m not. He’s a stupid cunt for not trusting you. But without his help, we wouldn’t have rescued you, so I don’t completely hate his guts anymore. But make no mistake, if he ever hurts you again, I will kill him.”

And there he was. The overbearing asshole I knew and lov… No . I didn’t have feelings for him. Panic pushed my pulse rate sky-high as unwelcome emotions hit me hard. I didn’t love Kyril.

I wasn’t capable of loving anyone.

Torrance had beaten it out of me long ago. Love equaled pain.

The only person I could afford to love was my sister.

A memory slammed into my head with the force of a semi-truck. Torrance held his gun against Verity’s head while I stood, helpless.

“Where’s Verity!”

“Shh, she’s OK. We have her here, on the plane.” Kyril squeezed my shoulder, but I shoved him away.

“I need to see my sister.” She’d be upset. She needed me. “Is she hurt?”

“Thea, she’s OK. She’s still out cold, but there’s nothing physically wrong with her. Declan’s medic says she’s been sedated but it should wear off soon.”

“Is Mrs. Gia here, too?”

From the blank look, I guessed not.

“No, we only rescued you and Verity. Sorry.” My heart fell. Poor Mrs. Gia. Knowing my father, she’d be dead by now. Along with everyone else blamed for losing me and Verity.

“And my father? Torrance? What happened to them?”

“They’re both still alive.” Kyril didn’t sound happy about that.

“Milo and Landon? Are they here, too?” I hated the way my voice cracked when I said their names. Knowing they probably wouldn’t want to see me hurt like a bitch.

“They’re with Eden at the house in Ireland.” My chest deflated, some of the tension easing. If they were waiting for us, they didn’t hate me, right?

“And Cassian?” It was hard not to feel a jolt of pain at the sound of his name. By rights, I shouldn’t give a fuck about Cassian. We barely knew each other. Other than the night in the bar, when we’d shared things about ourselves, the man was a closed book. A bit like me.

Maybe that’s why I’d been drawn to him from the start. He had secrets and hid his pain well. Like Landon, the guy who pretended to be a flirtatious fuckboy to the world when all he wanted was to be loved for himself, not for what he could provide.

“No, Cassian’s father took him away the night of the fire. He’s at Blackwood.”

That didn’t surprise me. Lucian Forsyth must have been furious about the sex tape. Shit like that would damage his son’s credibility and make it very difficult for any of the Forsyth family to move around without the press following their every move.

Was that why my father had done it? I assumed so once the drugs bust failed. Although it seemed like a strange move to make. A sex tape felt like a more personal attack.

“Thank you,” I said after a moment. “For rescuing me and Verity, I mean.” Shit, this was awkward.

“I’ll go fetch you some clean clothes.” The way he grimaced as he looked at my outfit told me all I needed to know. “We’ll be landing soon, so unless you want me to kill anyone else who gets to see you in that dress, I suggest you change.”

After taking a shower in the small attached bathroom and changing into some joggers and a sweater, I felt more human. There were still more holes in my memory than a Swiss Cheese, but hopefully, it would all come back to me soon.

Verity lay unconscious on a small cot, an IV in her arm. Her sunken cheeks and protruding collar bones told me she hadn’t had regular meals for a while. While I’d been living my best life in Scotland, our father had neglected her. Knowing him, he’d forbidden the kitchen staff from taking any extra food to the attic. My sister was - and always had been - a possession to him.

I stroked her cheek, remembering how she’d loved being cuddled when we were younger. When she was born, I’d been so excited. So happy to have a baby sister to play with.

A nurse wearing a starched gray uniform placed a bassinet on the table by the window.

She turned to me and said gravely, “Your sister will need you.”

I looked around, confused. “Where’s Mama?” It had been days since I last saw her. Since she left to have the baby. I hadn’t seen Papa either, although he rarely spent time with me. He worked a lot, Mama said, which was why he spent his days with the scary man. The one who made Mama cry sometimes.

“Your mother’s with the angels now.” The nurse seemed sad about that. Why was she sad, and why was Mama with the angels? Was heaven a nicer place to be? It had to be better than this stuffy attic.

“Is she having fun with the angels? Will she be back soon?” I missed Mama. When she sang, her soft lyrical voice helped me sleep.

“She’s happy now. She can’t come back, but she is watching over you from heaven.”

At seven-years-old, I understood the concept of heaven, so I also understood what the nurse was trying to tell me. Mama had gone, leaving me alone with my sister.

I straightened my back and stood taller. “I’ll take care of my sister.”

“Good girl,” the nurse said approvingly. Then Verity began to cry. Small whimpers at first, which soon became increasingly desperate screams. Her little face turned purple, her screams echoing around the attic.

The nurse disappeared into the kitchen. A door slammed downstairs and my father’s voice roared. “Shut it up!”

I didn’t like it when he yelled. Mama always warned me to be quiet around him. She said he didn’t like noisy children. I wasn’t sure he liked anything or anyone, least of all me.

“Shush,” I said, reaching out to stroke the baby’s downy head, but she just cried harder and louder. So I tried singing, like Mama did for me. The words came easily. I figured that if the song Mama sang every night helped me sleep, it would do the same for my sister.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, furious screams turned to whimpers, and then silence. When I peered into the bassinet, my sister stared up at me, her dark lashes glistening with tears.

I knew then that the nurse was right.

My sister would need me. But that was OK. If Mama wasn’t here to take care of us any longer, then I’d be the one to keep the nightmares away .

Nothing had changed in the intervening years. Whatever lay ahead, Verity would always be my priority.