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She turned to me. “When did you get there?”
“I was six.” She waited, so I told her the condensed version of my messed up story. “A Velez got my mom pregnant. She was human and didn’t survive the birth. My grandparents raised me until I got to be too dangerous.”
“As a six-year-old?”
“I was bigger, stronger than the other kids my age. I fought a lot and ended up beating up a nine-year-old. He had to be hospitalized.”
“Shit,” she muttered. “So they just gave you up?”
“That was the last straw. They’d been trying to help me for a year before they admitted they couldn’t. A social worker gave them the option, and they felt the home had the proper tools and training for someone like me.”
“Did they ever visit?”
I rocked my jaw. “No.”
I didn’t like to think about them, even after all these years. They were humans, not equipped to handle a pup like me.
“Right before Javier’s fourteenth birthday, a man showed up and took the four of us.” Derek moved our story along. “He took us to a different home, one for Pack orphans. That was when we learned the truth about who, and what, we were.”
She held his gaze, then straightened.
“When I was nineteen, I told my family I had a mission. I found a plane going to the very south of our territory, right on the border of Belize, and hid. I even made it across the border and had an appointment to get a hysterectomy, but when I got a few miles down the road, a truck was parked. My dad somehow found out.” She paused, sucking in a breath. “I thought he was going to kill me.”
“What happened?” Derek whispered.
“I’m not sure I can trust you with that information.”
“You can,” I promised her.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Whatever you tell us is confidential,” he said firmly. “We’re a team. No matter what, that comes first.”
“Before the Pack?” she pressed.
Derek and I shared a look before nodding.
He faced her. “Our family always comes first, and you’re a part of that.”
“Whether you like it or not,” I teased.
She swallowed. “Fine, my dad knew I wasn’t going to give up. I wasn’t like my sisters. I didn’t want to get married and have babies. I wanted to train and continue doing my job, so he came up with a compromise. He took me to the clinic, but instead of letting me get the surgery, I got long-term birth control inserted. He gave me ten years to prove I’m more valuable as an assassin than a mother. He likes to hang the countdown over my head whenever he feels like I’m not doing enough for the Pack.”
Derek and I exchanged looks. How had her story dampened the mood more than the proof of my childhood abuse?
I didn’t mean to compare. Obviously, we were wrong about her. We all had shitty pasts, but at least the guys and I had each other. We’d escaped and came out on the other side stronger.
Emilia was alone in the middle of her battle, one that may never end.
This was getting too deep, and we still hadn’t talked about what we found out last night. I changed the subject.
“Our guy, Dias, seems to prefer brunettes. Four of the five he spoke to for any considerable amount of time wore dark colors. Deep red, purple, navy, black. Two were tall and slender, with very revealing dresses, but the other three were on the shorter side and more conservative.”
Her shoulders relaxed, like she was grateful to have her focus on the mission.
Derek nodded. “He went to dinner with a group, all men. He wore a custom suit by a local designer with a gold Rolex and Prada shoes.”
“Italian?” Her arched brow rose. “Interesting choice.”
