Page 32 of Seeking Vengeance

I’m not worthy of my family’s notoriety. I bring nothing but shame to our name.

My throat tightens with emotion.

All I ever wanted was to make them proud. To help build our empire. And instead, my every decision has worked against that goal. I’m a liability. The most despised part of what has always been a vicious environment.

“I’m worthless.” I cover my face with my hands, my nails digging into my forehead. I want to scream. To claw and scratch until the internal voices subside. But they never will. It never does.

The bags beside me rustle, the rhythmic vibration coming from my cell.

I straighten, riffling through the purchases worth far more than anything in my purse, and find my phone, the pink casing now cracked in the top corner, the screen alight with Matthew’s name.

I shouldn’t answer. Of all the things I should be doing right now, speaking to him isn’t one of them. Not when I have to figure out how to cancel my credit cards without Cole knowing, which is going to be goddamn hard when he’s the main account holder.

But my fingers work of their own accord, numbly swiping the screen. I answer without a greeting and sniff to dislodge the tingle in my nose.

“Hello? Layla?” He pauses. “Are you there?”

It’s sickening how those few words wash me in comfort. How a stranger can ease my suffering without even knowing it.

“Yeah.” I clear the fragility from my voice. “I’m sorry, I’m going to need to cancel catching up with you.”

“What’s wrong?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. He cares. The passionate concern in his tone takes hold of me and grips tight.

I don’t know why it matters. Why it affects me even in the slightest. Having my purse stolen is nothing in comparison to what life has dealt me. A throbbing face and sore shoulder aren’t in the same league as the threats I’ve endured as the sister to a drug boss. Or the heartache of the lonely nights spent in a forced marriage.

It doesn’t even hold a candle to the disgust that brought me to my knees when I found out my father was a sex trafficker.

This is nothing.

No-thing.

And still, frailty threatens to drag me under.

“Layla, talk to me,” Matthew demands. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I scowl, willing the inner voices to quieten. “I’m fine. I just… My bag was stolen and I’m flustered. I need a minute to think—”

“Where are you?” he repeats.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“It matters,” he growls. “Tell me where you are.”

I’m used to protection. I’ve been shielded from hideous threats all my life. But never before has someone’s need to care for me hit this hard. Someone who barely knows me.

“Layla,” he implores. “I’m on my way to you. Just tell me your exact location.”

The disgust in my veins increases. The tightness in my throat, too. “Outside the mall. In an alley nearby.”

“Give me a name,amore mio. Do you know what alley?”

I look for the street sign and find nothing. “I don’t know. I can’t see—”

“As soon as I hang up you need to text me a pin on your location. Can you do that?”

I nod through the frantic emotions.

---