nothing left of him to miss. Anyway, he showed up one night, drunk and ranting about his money, accusing Mom of stealing it. She swore she didn’t, and obviously I had no idea what he was talking about but he wasn’t hearing it. He was out of his mind, demanding his money… millions that he was convinced my mom had somehow stolen and hidden from him. When mom wouldn’t tell him where it was, he had two of his men ra—rape her in front of me. My dad watched and didn’t bat an eye.”
A heavy tremor rocks my body and I step toward Jax, seeking his strength, his silent calm. I’m seconds away from fucking exploding and I know I need to get a handle on it before I scare the fuck out of Oakley.
“Angel, are you okay?” Oakley whispers, but Jax tells her to continue.
“When they couldn’t get anything out of my mom, they turned their attention to me. One of the men—Renshaw, he tied me to a chair, my ankles and wrists were bound with rope. I was terrified and just froze, I couldn’t fight… couldn’t even scream. They forced my mom to watch while he—he—” She stops, unable to speak through her sobs and the already loose hold I had on my anger snaps. With a menacing roar, I swing my fist into the fall, the sheetrock giving way from the force. The thought of anyone touching her, violating her… silencing her voice and taking by force. My brain threatens to shut down. I’ve experienced each of those things, and the possibility that she’s endured them too, is almost too much to handle. Oakley falls to her knees. Jax and I rush to her, falling to the floor and pulling her between us.
“I think that’s enough,” I say.
“No,” she cries. She clears her throat. “No. I need to do this, to tell someone. To tell you both. Please.”
Fucking hell. I don’t know how much more I can take. One glance at Jax shows his grip also giving way.
“He pulled out a thin lead pipe, but on the end of it, he’d welded a bunch of metal wires that he’d twisted into an image… it was of a tree—or more specifically, the roots. The logo of my dad’s church has a tree of life. He heated the wire with a blowtorch and while he branded me, my dad let me know that it was a reminder of where I came from…to remember my true roots.”
There are no tears now, she merely stares blankly at the wall. Then while I was still tied to the chair, my dad held a gun to my mom’s head. He told me if I’d just been on his side instead of hers—If I hadn’t helped her hide the money, everything would have been okay. Then he told me if I didn’t tell him where she’d hidden the money, he was going to kill her.” She laughs, but it’s empty and she looks at us before she shakes her head. “There was no money.”
By the time Oakley finishes her story, we find out that dear ole’ dad himself set the house on fire leaving Oakley there tied to a chair. But not before he shot her mother in front of her. It was by pure luck that Oakley survived the fire, and more so her second and third-degree burns, and the scars that remain from skin grafts and plastic surgery. She spent months in a private burn rehab facility as she recovered from countless skin grafts and three plastic surgeries to repair the worst of the burns. Even though her dad hadn’t been seen or heard from since the incident, she was discharged into witness protection for her safety.
“Wait, you’re in witness protection?”
She bites her lip, then looks up at us. “I ah... I told them I wanted out when I was twenty—”
I cut her off. “Oakley! Why would you do that?”
“It’s no way to live...” she says. “I was tired of being followed around and watched every minute of every day. Guess it doesn’t matter now anyway.”
“So all these years, there’s been no trace of your dad and all of a sudden you’re getting phone calls from his second in command?” Jax asks. “Why now?”
Oakley shrugs before her shoulders drop in defeat. “I have no idea. Maybe my dad wants to come out of hiding, maybe he’s been watching me this entire time just waiting for me to be happy so he can