CHAPTER TWENTY

ARIES

"I've got her, but fuck she's terrified."

Max motions for me to follow him, so I do.

He keeps speaking to Nash along the way, "Like I told you before. You need to reassure her over and over again that she's safe now, and that no one is going to hurt her."

"Alright. I'll see you there. She's trying to get out."

After he says goodbye to his wife we head out to his car, and I get into the passenger seat, while he walks around and climbs into the driver's seat.

"You said they're always scared?"

He glances at me quickly before turning his attention back to the road in front of him, "Always. However, the degree can vary. I think the severity of the abuse plays a factor, of course, but I've noticed the younger they are, the worse it seems to be."

Max turns onto a side street and continues, "I think when terrible things happen to adults it's traumatic, but they know the terrible things that happen in the world. However, frequently the children were more innocent when they were taken. A lot of times they didn't know the shit that goes on, and also their brains are still forming, so while I'm not a doctor, I think that causes long term damage that's different from adults."

This topic makes me nauseous to talk about, especially knowing what my sister has been through. And Dalia was only eight. I may never make it out from under this mountain of guilt.

We pull up to a driveway and he drives into the garage before. We get out of the car, he presses a button the door shuts behind him.

The car starts moving down, and I glance at him with curiosity, "Elevator. We hide the vehicle, so if we have anyone that shows up, they'll look in the garage and think no one is here."

I follow him to the ‘people elevator', I guess, and step inside.

Max chuckles, "It's always entertaining when people are here for the first time. We'll go through the basement to get to the rest of the house."

We walk through a room that is very obviously used for torture and killing. I have one myself, so the setup isn't surprising. Two metal tables sit on the one side with straps attached to them, to of course, hold the unwilling victims. There are several hooks hanging from the ceiling, as well as more on the walls. Another metal table on the other side of the room has an array of torture devices on it. Hammers, knives, metal rods, the list goes on. You never know what you'll feel like using on any particular day, so it's important to have options. I especially appreciate the handmade hammer with spikes on it. I wouldn't mind trying that out sometime.

Max takes me down a long hallway to a separate elevator, and stands in front of a computer screen that uses facial recognition software. Then he presses his palm to another part underneath, before the elevator doors slide open.

I wasn't surprised by the first part, but the palm print is an extra layer of security I hadn't predicted, although it's smart. The doors open on the third floor and he takes me to a living room set up, "You can wait here. As a warning, you may hear things that you don't like. However, if you attempt to get in our way, you'll be escorted out. It's not personal, that's a lecture I'm forced to give to protect our patients."

"I understand."

Max pats me on the shoulder, "I'm going to my office for a bit. When the doctor is done treating her, she'll come talk to you."

I sit on a large couch, staring around the room, wondering why there are so many sofas and chairs in a safehouse. I'm clearly trying to distract myself with shit that doesn't matter, when I spot Dalia walking into the room. Fuck. Of course, she looks stunning as always, but she averts her gaze.

She keeps her eyes on the floor, "Mr. Lombardi, the doctor hasn't seen Sierra yet. She had a rough transition to the safehouse, but she's sleeping now."

"Dalia, can we talk?"

Shaking her head, she says, "We don't have anything to talk about. It's done."

"I knew, the minute you got out of the car, that I made a huge mistake. I don't want a divorce."

I know better than to expect her to believe what I say, because it's the polar opposite of what I said in the car. Before she exited the vehicle, I was determined to do what I said I would do. It wasn't until she turned away from me, that I realized the gravity of what I'd done. I have never needed anyone, but I need her. I hate how vulnerable she makes me and also love it. I'll do whatever I have to, for her to see the truth.

My wife angrily swipes a tear away, "Well you got one. I've already signed the papers and the attorney is handling it."

"Please sit."

She finally sits after blowing out a long exasperated breath, "I only have a few minutes, because I need to be there when she wakes up."

Leaning down, I press my face into her neck and inhale that scent that makes me insane, and somehow calms me, at the same time.

"Don't," she whispers, "You lost the right."

Moving back, I give her space because I don't want to push her further away, "Dalia, I miss you. Tell me what I can do."

She flashes me a sad look, "Nothing, Aries. It's too late."

"I don't accept that. It will never be too late. This isn't over, Dalia. I fucked up, but I need you."

Rising off the couch, she throws her hands in the air, "Once again it's about what Aries wants. That always comes first, doesn't it? When the king speaks, his royal subjects should bow to him and give what he needs, with no regard for themselves?"

And there it is. That fucking pain that rips me to shreds. I attempt to keep it together so I don't look weak, but she makes me so fucking weak.

I glance at her with a smirk, "Every king needs his queen, Dalia. That's all I need. You."

"If I have to get down on my knees and fucking beg, I will. I will never deserve you. I'll walk through the fires of hell if I need to. Just to earn the right to call you mine."

Dalia clenches her fists at her sides as she blinks quickly, trying to stop the unwanted tears, "The only thing either of us should be focusing on right now is that little girl upstairs, who is terrified beyond belief. Nothing matters more than her right now."

She turns and walks away, taking my breath with her. Once the crushing pain in my chest eases slightly, I call my mother to let her know we've found Sierra.

"Mamma, we found her."

The sobs are instant coming through the phone line, "Are you bringing her home? I need to see her now."

"I know, but you need to hold on. I promise you'll see her soon, but right now she needs medical attention."

Did I tell her that her little girl is pregnant by a monster? No, I didn't have the fucking guts to destroy my mother like that. She'll find out soon enough, and I know it'll crush her. Personally, I hope my sister decides to get rid of this baby. Half the DNA is from that monster, so no good can come from it. Even if she weren't fourteen years old, I wouldn't want her having the baby of her rapist. How can any woman possibly endure that?

I'm sitting on the couch, running through everything in my mind, when I hear the blood curdling screams coming from my sister. The urge to run up to that damn room, and stop them from doing whatever is upsetting her is strong, but I remember what Max said and keep my ass in the seat, while I listen to what sounds like pure terror.