Chapter 65

SIXTY-FIVE

XERO

I kneel beside Amethyst, my heart pounding as I check her pulse. She’s breathing, but she’s out cold. Each second feels like an eternity as I wait for her to wake up.

Camila crouches beside us, breathing hard. “Xero, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” I squeeze my sister’s arm. “This is what she wanted.”

Turning my attention to Amethyst, I place a hand on her shoulder. The warmth of her skin reassures me that she’s still with me. “Baby, can you hear me?”

Her curls have spilled loose, fanning around her beautiful face like a halo of darkness and light. The sight of her, even in this vulnerable state, takes my breath away. My heart squeezes. She’s so brave, wanting to face her sister, but she’s doing too much too soon.

Stirring, her lashes flutter. Then she gazes up at me through dilated pupils ringed with a tiny circle of green.

“Xero?” she whispers, her voice weak. The sound of my name on her lips is a lifeline.

I cup her cheek. “It’s me. Are you alright?”

She nods, her eyes unfocused. “I had a new memory.”

Exhaling my relief, I sit back on my heels. She tries to rise, but I push her back down to the mat. “Not yet. You can tell me about it while resting.”

She inhales a deep, shuddering breath. “I remember some of what happened before the diary. Mostly the summer camp. That’s where we first met Delta.”

Her voice cracks, and I can feel the pain behind every word. I squeeze her hand, grounding her in the present. “You’re safe now, Amethyst. He can’t hurt you anymore.”

“It was in a campus in the woods. He supervised our training and sent us out on missions.”

A sharp breath whistles through my teeth. Camila gasps but remains silent. We’ve both picked apart the diary we received from the Salentino sisters. It’s the most damning evidence we’ve had in years, indicating that Father didn’t discontinue the Lolita assassins, but hearing that the events are true puts them into a horrifying new perspective.

“My dad...” She shakes off that thought. “My stepdad drove us to the Three Fates Boarding School. That’s where we met Delta for the first time.”

I listen to her story, my eyes widening as I piece together the fragments of her past. Every word she speaks is a knife to my heart. Father told the girls the same lie he told us to make their missions more palatable. The syringes never contained sedatives but poisons.

We boys at my underground facility had the luxury of injecting our targets as we walked past them in public. Lolitas had to enter their private spaces.

Fury pounds through my veins as Amethyst describes three assignments. Each one she recounts brings up a wave of anger, but I force myself to stay calm. The first was a dinner party the twins had to endure before they were taken upstairs to kill the hosts. The second was a house event where children were treated like party favors. They performed the third mission together, killing a high-ranking police officer.

I breathe hard, forcing myself to process my anger. Amethyst needs my support, not my rage. I can’t let my emotions overshadow her need to be heard. I don’t want any of my reactions to feel like judgment.

“Do you remember any landmarks from when you were at Three Fates?” Camila asks from my side.

Amethyst pauses for several heartbeats, her brow furrowing. “We passed the airport... I remember Dolly asking if Three Fates was overseas. When we were outside, we could see and hear planes landing and taking off.”

I nod, processing this new detail. “That’s good. It gives us a location to start with.” I glance over at my sister, who’s already messaging Tyler. “Anything else?”

She licks her lips, a nervous habit I’ve noticed before. “There was a water tower shaped like a kettle. And Dad... He had an assistant called Becky Taylor. He dumped our suitcases at her house by the airport when he drove us to Three Fates. On the way back, he picked them up.”

Camila taps down the details.

“Thank you,” I say, my chest tightening. The words feel inadequate for the gratitude and sorrow I feel for what the hell she’s endured.

I squeeze her hand. “You’re incredibly brave, little ghost. Thank you for sharing this with us.”

Amethyst sits up, her eyes brightening with determination. “I want to continue sparring.”

Seeing her push herself is like a knife to the chest. “You need to rest and recover.”

“But fighting is the only thing that’s brought back my memories,” she says, her voice cracking.

The pain in her eyes tugs at my heart, making it hard to deny her. But I can’t let her continue to get hurt. I need to find a safer alternative. “There are other ways to access your memories that don’t involve getting knocked out. Do you want to talk to someone?”

She shakes her head and sighs, her lips tightening. “I’m sick of psychiatrists. Talking to Dr. Saint never got me anything but frustrated.”

“Let’s see Dr. Dixon. He’s our Chief Medical Officer.”

Camila leaves to help Tyler with the new leads, promising to keep me updated. I drive Amethyst through the tunnels to our infirmary. This is our most expensive safe house, equipped with operating theaters and state-of-the-art scanners. Thanks to my connections with the Moirai’s support staff, we’re always up to date with the latest medical advancements.

“Stay with me?” she asks as we take the stairs through the basement.

My gaze drops to her huge, green eyes, which shine with a vulnerability that makes me want to wrap her up in cotton wool. I reach out, taking her hand in mine, offering the comfort of my touch.

“Always,” I say, my voice choked.

I stay with Amethyst throughout her MRI scan, neurological exam, and final toxicology screen. When Dr. Dixon gives her a clean bill of health, he advises against forcing new memories.

Amethyst frowns. “But I might remember another clue.”

“You’ve given us enough,” I say.

“Please, Xero.”

I turn to Dr. Dixon, who sighs. “Ginkgo Biloba and Panax Ginseng can help with mental clarity. That’s the best I can recommend to stimulate your memories.”

“What about hypnosis?” she asks, her voice quickening with desperation.

I squeeze her hand. She’s pushing herself too far. I can’t let her get hurt on our account.

He rubs his chin. “The Moirai has a method for debriefing operatives’ suppressed memories. It’s intense and involves taking a large quantity of drugs before entering a white room. It’s another form of torture, designed to unlock what’s been repressed.”

Her breath hitches, and her skin turns pale. “A white room…like a tent?”

My brow furrows, and several knots form in my gut. There’s only one way she’d know about that technique.

The doctor leans forward, his eyes widening. “Is that familiar?”

“That’s what Delta did to me,” she whispers, her head dipping toward her chest. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

My blood boils with the overwhelming need for vengeance. I want to present Father’s beaten and bound body to her in chains so she can work out every minute of trauma he made her suffer with rusty razor blades.

Squeezing her shoulder, I lean in to give her reassurance. “No one is going to force you into anything. You don’t even need to take the herbs.”

We leave the infirmary and drive back to the hideout through the darkened tunnels. My mind is in a turmoil, plagued by the torments Father made her suffer, both as a child and an adult.

I spent years wondering what happened to the Lolita assassins, only to fall in love with one. Where are the others, and can I save them when the one I have is still struggling?

Amethyst grabs my arm. “I need to erase Delta’s touch,” she says, her voice trembling. “It’s like he’s still here.”

My chest burns with a mix of anger and sorrow. The thought of Father still infesting her is unbearable. “When we catch up with him, I’ll let you spill his blood.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

I turn to meet her green eyes, her features etched with pain. Her vulnerability in this moment is a raw wound that needs careful tending. I swallow hard, forcing my eyes on the tunnel ahead and school my features into a mask of calm.

“What do you need from me right now?” I ask, my voice steady.

“I need you inside me. That’s the only thing that will make me feel clean.”

Her plea slices through my chest, leaving me torn between desire and the need to protect her from herself. Touching her before she’s ready will only deepen her wounds. I can’t allow my need for her to cloud my judgment.

“Xero?”

“I won’t cause you permanent harm,” I murmur.

“I’ve faced worse,” she counters. “I can handle this.”

But I know she can’t. Some of our female operatives who slept with men as part of their duties at the Moirai can’t face the opposite sex. What Amethyst went through was brutal, nonconsensual, raw. She’s already fresh from bringing up childhood wounds.

My protective instincts rear up, telling me to override her demands. I need to be sure she’s not just pushing herself out of desperation. “How can you be ready for this after everything that’s happened?”

“I have to be,” she says, her voice firming. “I can’t continue with these thoughts as my last memories of being with men.”

“And the long-term impact? On you, on us?” I ask, my eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt.

“We’ll figure it out,” she mutters.

Guilt gnaws at the frayed edges of my conscience. If I have to think about those creeps, I’ll tear off someone’s skin. All that bullshit I did to her in those first weeks after prison has weakened her mental state. Touching her now will only add me to a list of predatory bastards.

“I’m not about to take advantage of your vulnerability.”

“You’re helping me heal.” She clings to my arm, her grip both a plea for help and a lifeline.

I take a deep breath, my resolve hardening. What am I really afraid of? Losing control? Breaking her trust? I’m better than that. I need to be strong for my little ghost. “One step at a time. Let’s start with something simpler.”

She nods, her breath quickening. “Like what?”

“If you can get into the tub and let me bathe you, then we can talk about taking the next step,” I say.

She hesitates, her body stiffening. I peer at her through the corner of my eye, watching her determination morph into fear.

“Alright,” she finally says, her voice faltering. “Let’s have that bath.”