Page 59 of Taming a Ruthless Heart

One night, though, the blindfold slipped.

The memory hits hard, making me bolt upright again.I grip the edge of Dave’s bed, my nails digging into the sheets as if that could keep me tethered to this room, to now.But the memory drags me back under, drowning me in the past.

I remember the dampness of the cloth, how it clung to my face, loose around one eye.At first, I couldn’t see much, just a blur of dark and light, movements and shadows.But as the edges sharpen, I see him.Igor is standing, his back to me, shirt discarded on the floor.But what’s worse is the person in front of him, his mouth open wide, tears rolling down his soft cheeks.My heart shatters into a million pieces at the unnatural sight.The horror builds in my chest as I realize his eyes are empty.Igor must have drugged him.Still, it takes all I have to remain silent while the scene makes me want to puke.

When Igor steps back, my heart turns to ice at the thought he will notice I can see them.My stomach twists, a sick lurch that leaves me paralyzed.I force myself to snap out of it and brush my face against my forearm to slide until the blindfold shifts back, obscuring my sight once again.

In the suffocating darkness, I choke on bile.Igor knows I’m chained and helpless.If he ever finds out I’ve seen his sickness, it’ll be the end for me.

After that night, I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing the vile things that happened in that room.My world became even darker, more suffocating, and I knew—I’d have to keep that secret or die.

Or escape.

After I chose that route five days ago, Igor certainly figured out that I might know more than he’d suspected.

The memory fades, and I’m back in Dave’s room, trembling, my breaths shallow and ragged.I press a hand to my mouth, trying to keep my sobs from escaping, to lock this darkness back where it belongs.But I know the truth, the truth.Igor is a monster way more evil than most people realize.And he won’t stop until he’s bled every last bit of power from those he hates.And if he ever finds me, he’ll drag me back to that basement, and he won’t let me leave it alive.

The low summer sun drapes the sunroom in a warm, amber glow, casting elongated shadows that move gently with the evening breeze.That feels worlds away from the darkness constantly hovering over my life.The light flickers through the arched windows, softened by the salt-tinged air that drifts in from the nearby shore.

I’m curled up in one of the wicker chairs, a book open in my hands, but my mind drifts, only half paying attention to the page.Outside, Rose’s laughter rings out, light and free, and Pete shouts something that makes her giggle louder.The sound tugs at my heart, filling it with a bittersweet ache.She’s happy.She’s safe.I should be glad.

I glance up, looking through the arched windows.Rose is running through the grass, her golden curls bouncing as she plays.Despite the fading daylight, I can see her cheeks flushed with joy.Nadya keeps a watchful eye but allows them to be kids.I only wish Rose could keep her innocence forever.

The rhythmic crash of waves in the distance merges with the soft rustle of beach grass, creating a backdrop that embodies Wychmere Harbor’s tranquil yet poignant evenings.The last hints of sunlight paint the walls with a fading glow, reminding me of fleeting peace.

I try to lose myself in the book again, but my thoughts keep drifting, unable to escape the dread that lingers like a storm on the horizon.Every time I close my eyes, I see Igor’s face, his sick smile, and the unspeakable things he’s capable of.I grip the book harder, my knuckles whitening as I fight to keep myself grounded.

The familiar sound of an engine outside, a deep, rumbling growl that can only belong to Dave, wipes out my feeble concentration.Relief and anxiety swell inside my chest.He’s back.I try to appear casual, like I’ve just been reading and not drowning in memories of the life I fled.But when he steps into the sunroom, there’s a barely contained fury simmering beneath his usually cool expression that throws me for a loop.

I look up, meeting his gaze.Something’s very wrong.His green eyes pierce me as they lock onto mine.There’s no warmth in them, no softness.Just an intensity that makes my heart stutter.I press a hand to the base of my throat but it does nothing to calm me down.

“Alexia,” he says, his voice low, almost dangerous.He crosses the room in a few long strides, the muscles in his jaw tight as a rope.“We found out what Igor’s planning.”

I swallow, as a cold wave of dread washes over me.I force myself to keep my face neutral.“What is it?”

He scans my face and it’s like he sees straight through me, right into the secrets I’ve been holding onto so tightly.

“He’s going to auction her,” Dave says through gritted teeth, each word dropping like a boulder on me.“He’s planning to sell Rose this weekend.”

The floor drops out from under me, and my breath catches in my throat.A flash of horror, revulsion, and something too raw to name cuts through me.I need to keep it together.But the look on Dave’s face tells me that I’m already too late.

“You knew, didn’t you?”he growls, and his words are like a slap.His gaze bores into me, relentless.“You weren’t just running because you thought he might hurt her someday.You ran because you knew he was going to do this.”

“I…” My voice breaks.I can’t lie anymore.The guilt, the shame—it’s all there, boiling to the surface.“I knew it,” I confess, the admission tearing through me.

His beautiful features twist with a dark mix of fury and disgust.That look cuts deep and I’m breaking apart under it, every piece of me splintering.I can almost see his mind spiraling.The horror in his eyes is not just aimed at Igor.I feel it in my bones.

“How could he do that?”he murmurs, his fists clenched.His rage, the barely controlled violence simmering beneath the surface, makes me recoil.“How could he sell his own daughter to some… sick psychopaths who would buy a child?”

My heart shatters at the pain etched into every line of his face.I know this is my moment, the point of no return.I can’t keep this secret from him anymore.He deserves to know.He needs to know.I take a shaky breath, my hands trembling as I clench them in my lap.

“Dave,” I begin, my voice tight, thick with the weight of what I’m about to say.“Rose isn’t Igor’s daughter.”

For a second, he just stares at me, as if he didn’t hear me, as if he’s waiting for me to say something else.But as the words sink in, the realization dawns in his eyes.His face shifts from confusion to shock and then to something darker, laced with fury and betrayal.

“What did you just say?”His voice is low, deadly calm, and it sends shivers down my spine.

I hold his gaze, meeting his anger head-on, because there’s no hiding for me now.

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