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“What he did to her was awful. He made us watch.”
“What did he do?”
“They drugged her first, but she wasn’t fully out of it.” Clara tested me with her stare, mentally judging if she thought I could handle what she’d tell me. “They cut her open, and—” Clara froze mid-sentence to take a look around for any eavesdropping.
“The baby was alive and crying, and then it wasn’t anymore. Rothbart dropped it to the ground, and he...”
“And he what?” I was borderline foaming at the mouth when Clara lost the nerve to talk, but I somehow managed to keep my voice low. “What did he do, Clara?”
My flared nostrils were her focal point. “He had such big feet. Even Darla cried. Darla never cried. She always gave them what they wanted. He made Aribel—Catharina—wash his boot with her tongue, and every time she refused, he’d kick her in the stomach.”
The downfall of long legs was when I shot into the air, my knee knocked the table, pulling in unwanted attention and hitting all her hard work out of place.
A tear fell onto the table ledge, and it wasn’t mine. “Please, tell her I’m sorry that I couldn’t help her then.”
I bent to my haunches, my knees trembling with the urge to kick the fuck out of the nearest thing, but the nearest thing was Clara.
“When? When did all this happen?”
“Time was different then, but I’d guess around a year ago. Maybe. It was a while before her memory loss.”
“And how did that happen?” Why the fuck was I still asking these things!
“She was helping Callie. We were all in our kitchen cages. Callie was in the living room. We could hear her crying, and Cat didn’t want Rothbart hurting her the way he was, so she kept screaming to interrupt. He dragged her into the room with them. We could hear a scuffle, then a loud bang, and then it went silent. When he brought her back, she didn’t know any of us. Not even Callie.”
I rocked on my heels, unable to talk because there was no way in hell I’d be able to hold back the rage I was feeling and the fucking guilt.
It was my fault.
It was all my fault.
And keeping our shared past from Cat was no longer about selfish reasons. She deserved a better future. And I had the means, the money, and a motive powered by love to give her anything she could ever want.
Clara flinched when I touched her knee, but she didn’t pull away.
I still couldn’t say anything when I stood, ready to leave, but I put another puzzle piece in place for Clara, just like she’d done for me.
And then, I walked out.
***
The drive home was longer than it needed to be. Even the walk from my truck to the house was long. The wind choked me as my heavy feet moved slowly, and I found it hard to breathe.
Since I left Beyond Heaven, all I’d thought of was Cat and the date I’d have to blow off. I had two reasons for that. One, I was in no mood for a fun day. My mind was in the gutter. My soul was burning in fucking hell. Two, I wanted to keep Cat indoors, lock the fucking doors and hide her away from the world forever.
It was too horrific a place for someone as special as her.
A thick waft of Italian cuisine hit me in the face as I entered my home, all cooked by people with zero Italian heritage, as far as we all knew.
I kicked off my boots, pleasing Azrael, who was waiting at the shoe rack, ready to bunny-kick the shit out of them and add more scuffs to the toes.
Everyone was in the kitchen. Woodrow and Jolie were joined at the hip as he mixed spices into the pasta sauce.
“Are you rushing off on your date, or are you guys staying for dinner?” Dec asked, pulling out a chair at the dining table. “Woodrow made a mountain of food, as usual.”
I didn’t answer Dec. My attention was on Cat, who was watching something Ollie was showing her on his phone. Both already at the dining table. Both smiling.
Their bodies were relaxed and friendly, and it didn’t bother me like it did whenever Dec even looked her way.
