Chapter 75

SEVENTY-FIVE

AMETHYST

The exhaustion of the night catches up with us, and we spend the rest of the day sleeping. Xero assures me that his Chief Medical Officer and Isabel will make sure the children we rescued get help with their trauma.

For the first time since leaving the asylum, it feels like I’ve regained pieces of my past I thought were lost forever. Xero was extremely patient, allowing me to navigate my feelings at my own pace and not pushing me beyond what I could handle.

He stirs beside me, his arms tightening around my waist. Gratitude swells in my chest, threatening to spill over in tears. I turn toward him and bury my face in the crook of his neck, wanting to stretch out this feeling of closeness and safety and warmth.

“Awake?”

His soft murmur sends a tingle down my spine. I hum against his skin, never wanting this moment to end. His fingers trace a slow path along my bare back, eliciting a quiet sigh.

“Thank you,” I murmur into his neck. “What you did for me earlier meant everything.”

He draws back and places a kiss on my temple. “Any time you feel the urge to come, I’ll be there with my body at your disposal.”

A giggle bursts from my chest. “You’re volunteering to be my personal sex toy?”

“I’m the only man for the job. Always eager and ready to satisfy my little ghost.”

Heat rises to my cheeks. I squirm against his chest, wanting to give him the same assurances, but the words die in my throat. I feel great right now, perfectly capable of enjoying Xero’s touch, but what happens if I reach my limit? What happens if I can’t handle any more?

“Hungry?” he asks, pulling me away from my thoughts.

“What time is it?”

Hesitating, he shifts on the mattress and pulls his phone off the bedside table. “Five.”

My stomach chooses this moment to rumble, answering Xero’s question. I finally open my eyes, finding the room dimmed by fading light. Through the window, the sun sets behind the distant trees, casting long shadows across the lawn.

“Is this the same safe house from before?” I ask, remembering its vast gardens.

“It’s a secondary facility a few fields away from the first one.” He eases us both up to sitting. “It’s even more difficult to approach from the road.”

We shower together, taking time to explore each other’s bodies before changing into matching jumpsuits. Xero’s maintenance crew—the same people who kitted out my crawl space—keep them stocked in all their hideouts, along with basic underwear.

I study my reflection in the mirror, still unable to look myself in the eyes. The woman on the other side looks more vibrant, with reddened lips and flushed skin. I feel stronger, more capable, more in control.

Xero comes up from behind, his hands settling on my hips.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, pressing his lips into the nape of my neck, and sending shivers skittering across my skin. His palms glide up my sides, warming the cool fabric of my jumpsuit.

Turning around in his arms, I look up into his eyes, finding them filled with adoration and a hint of mischief. I give him a peck on the lips. “I could say the same about you, but that would just give you a big head.”

His blond brows quirk. “That’s not the only thing about me that’s big.”

“Your ego?” At his grin, I place a palm on his chest and add, “Your heart.”

Gaze softening, he brushes a curl off my forehead. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you so much,” he murmurs. “You look beyond my monstrous acts and see the man.”

“You’re not a monster, Xero,” I murmur.

He breaks eye contact. “I’ve been killing since I was a child, and I run an organization that murders strangers for money. That at least makes me a villain.”

His words hang in the air. I stare into his profile, my chest squeezing at the weight of his confession. Xero doesn’t give me the chance to answer, turning away before I can process his meaning. By the time we leave the cottage and walk across the darkened lawn and through the trees, I’m still reeling, and his words echo in my mind like lurking ghosts.

Aren’t we almost the same? Delta broke down Xero over several years. Dad did the same to me, with the help of Delta and Charlotte, in the space of months. Xero might be a trained assassin, but my past makes me the closest definition of a serial killer.

We reach the main building, a sprawling log cabin that blends into the forest. A canopy of tall oaks hangs over the roof, creating the impression of a tree house.

Armed guards patrol the perimeter, their silhouettes darting like specters in the dim light. As we step through the main entrance, Xero pulls me closer, his fingers interlacing with mine.

“Charlotte’s in an underground holding cell. What do you want to do with her?” he asks.

“Don’t you need her to access all the adoption records?”

He shakes his head. “Tyler already hacked into them. Another operative is interrogating Becky Taylor to see how much she knows.”

We pass a reception desk at the entrance, manned by two guards, male and female. They nod at Xero as we head deeper into the heart of the building. He stares at the side of my face, waiting for me to object.

“As Dad’s assistant, Becky had a vested interest in being nice to us,” I say. “All I remember about her is a facade.”

Xero nods. “What should we do if she’s involved with the trafficking?”

“She should die,” I reply.

We continue through a hallway lined with wooden panels, dimly lit by soft wall lights. The scent of pine fills the air, mixed with the lingering aroma of cooking. As we advance toward the end, my mouth waters at the mingled smells of roast chicken and freshly baked bread.

“This place is more like a summer camp than Three Fates,” I mutter.

The corners of his mouth lifts into a rueful smile. “We wanted to create a nice atmosphere for the children.”

Xero opens a door to reveal a vast, wood-paneled dining room with two sets of long tables. The girls we rescued sit on the left among only female staff, and the boys on the right sit with a mix. On the far end of the space is a head table on a podium, where Dr. Dixon sits with Isabel and two more of Xero’s people.

“This looks familiar,” I say, lifting my chest with nostalgia.

“Our maintenance staff might have gotten some inspiration from Harry Potter .” He places a hand on the small of my back and guides me toward a serving hatch to the left of the room.

A middle-aged couple with kind smiles serves us tomato soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, and slices of apple pie. The woman adds an extra chicken leg on Xero’s plate before he leads us to the head table.

Isabel scoots down two seats, giving us space to sit in the middle, while Dr. Dixon greets us with a tired nod. Xero settles into the chair next to his Chief Medical Officer, while I sit beside his sister.

“No incidents last night,” the doctor says. “And the young operatives are in excellent health.”

“Children,” Xero mutters, tearing into his grilled cheese.

The older man nods, his gaze settling over the tables. “Although some of them are showing the beginnings of PTSD.”

I lean close, my heart sinking as I scan the dining hall, taking in the haunted looks across both sets of tables.

“A trauma specialist will arrive tomorrow,” Dr. Dixon murmurs.

Xero’s lips tighten. “Do whatever’s needed. We’ll provide the resources.”

The two continue talking in low voices about the logistics of bringing in additional staff and implementing counseling strategies, but my attention is fixed on the children. Not all of them pick at their meals. Others chat with each other and the older staff, although the atmosphere is subdued.

“How are you doing?” Isabel’s voice breaks me out of my musings. I turn to face her, meeting dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s hard to see them like this,” I say, offering her a weak smile.

Her gaze never leaves mine. “Did returning to the Three Fates Boarding School jog any extra memories?”

“Not as many as getting cold-cocked by your sister.”

She snorts. “Camila has a powerful right hook. But if you need to talk to anyone about what you’re experiencing, I’m here.”

Swallowing, I nod my appreciation and take a large spoonful of my soup. While I appreciate the gesture, talking only gets me upset. The only thing that seems to make an impact is Xero’s presence. And his touch.

And shedding the blood of my enemies.

“Think about it,” Isabel says.

“Thanks,” I murmur. “I will.”

I tune back in to Xero’s conversation with the doctor. An older woman has joined them; she seems to oversee this facility. They’re already discussing curriculums and ways to ease the children back into society.

“Tyler told me how you helped us locate Three Fates,” Isabel says. “What percentage of your memories would you say have returned?”

I pick up my sandwich. “There are still major holes. Sometimes it’s hard to know what I’m supposed to remember.”

She nods. “Understandable. What do you recall about the day of your abduction?”

I pause, the sandwich halfway to my mouth. Those memories exist in my mind in vivid technicolor, every gruesome detail etched into my subconscious. They don’t haunt my thoughts because I keep myself busy, and Xero’s presence beside me overwhelms that darkness.

“Everything, unfortunately,” I say with a sigh.

She stills, her gaze sharpening. “Then perhaps you can tell me whether it was you or Dolly who started the fire that gave my brother permanent lung damage?”