I was young, but even as a kid, they scared me.”
“And Marcia took you in?”
I nod, feeling more tears spill from my lashes. “She agreed to raise me alongside my father, but even then, he didn’t stay. He didn’t want me. I feel alone. Broken.”
“You’re not alone,” Damien assures me, his gaze locked on mine. He tugs me from the bench, pulling me into his lap, as we both fall back onto the soft mat, which I know they usually use for sparring. His arms wrap around me, warming me right down to my bones.
“You are never alone,” Cassian tells me, as he takes a seat. “We’re always here for you. You’re with Damien now, he’s chosen you, which means you’re a Thorne.”
“Your dad wants me with Creed. He wants a Thorne-Haven wedding.”
Damien goes rigid beneath me. “No.” The word is gritted out from the man holding me. “That’s not happening. If he wants me to step down from running Thorne Corporation, I’ll do it, but I’m not allowing you to be with Creed.”
“Allowing me?” Even in the twisted events of this evening, I sass him. But the way his gaze bores into me, I know he’s not joking right now. He doesn’t have to worry about it, because I want him and only him.
“Creed can’t have you.” Finn agrees with his brother. “And he will understand you’ve already been claimed. The night of the masquerade ball, Damien made sure to show him that, he wouldn’t come near you unless he wants a war.”
“I just want to go, fly away and never come back,” I tell them. Damien’s arms tighten around me, holding me against his chest. I can feel his heart thudding against me, and the rhythm is calming.
His next words are a reassuring affirmation which makes every inch of my body release the anxiety that had earlier taken hold of me. “Then we’ll go.”
37
Nesrin
The Past
When I open my eyes, I hear a noise downstairs, but confusion makes me peek over the covers. It’s not morning yet, because the sun hasn’t come up, but I can hear my mother speaking. Her voice carries up the stairs to my bedroom. The door is closed, and I can’t hear what she’s saying, but she sounds angry.
I don’t like when Mom is angry. My stomach turns in knots, like when I’m meant to do my speech in the front of the class. I never liked people looking at me, and the kids at school aren’t friendly.
Another shout comes from downstairs, and I push off the bed, padding barefoot to the door, I slowly twist the handle and pull it open. Her voice is clearer now, and then I hear Daddy, too.
He says something, but his voice sounds like a growl. I’m scared when I move closer to the stairs to try to see what they’re doing, but even from the landing, I can’t.
My heart is beating so fast; it’s making my ears beat like a drum of my favorite pop song. I know something is wrong because my mom is crying now.
“Please, Mark,” she says to dad, but I don’t hear him answer her. I tiptoe farther down the steps, and that’s when I see them in the living room. Mom’s face is wet, her makeup has made stripes down her cheeks as she looks at Dad.
He looks at her but doesn’t hold her. Growing up, I always remember him holding her tightly when she was sad, but this time, it’s different. In the next second, her hand comes up and smacks him across the cheek so hard, his head snaps to the side.
I stumble back, falling onto the carpet on the step.
“You’re fucking crazy,” he says to Mom, and I can hear he’s angry. I’ve only heard him shout a few times, where I would hide under my bed out of fear, and this is just like those.
“You fucked this up!” Mom’s scream is so loud, and I have to put my hands on my ears. “You’re a fucking lying asshole!” I’m sure the windows will break each time mom shouts at him, but they don’t.
Glass crashes onto the floor. Tears burn my eyes, and I stand quickly, racing into the bathroom and locking myself inside. My heart beats so loudly in my ears, I can’t think about anything else. But nothing drowns out the sound of my parents’ rage.
I’m scared.
My tears fall down my cheeks.
My chest aches from the anger I hear in their voices.
My stomach twists from the fight