Page 26 of Judas

Doing my best to hide it, my skin goes clammy when the blood drains from my face. I can feel it slipping away, similar to the tides when a tsunami threatens to overtake the shore. One moment the sea is crashing along the water-heavy sand then the tide is hundreds of yards away in the blink of an eye. The sound of Ra’s voice drastically fades from intelligible words to a low murmur, barely able to sense the bass of it anymore. Now—now he’s losing me.

Lucien has been hurting her.

A part of me isn’t surprised; it’s something that we all knew would happen but that doesn’t stop the mother in me from fearing for her child. Outside of being a jealous and obsessive lunatic, there’s no reason Lucien should be remotely interested in hurting her. She’s a child, for fucks sake. A child who hasn’t hurt anyone—I mean, that was his thing back then, right? Hurting those who chose to harm children? Here he is, though, possibly causing irreparable damage to my daughter.

“Why…“ is the only word my mouth spills.

It’s soft, likely a whisper, and regarded as sound rather than a word by Ra. The fool still rambles on and on. And he thinks I am the one who wasn’t paying attention.

Hazelwood didn’t necessarily spit out the most brilliant people, and I may have passed my state-required courses, but there’s no wrapping my head around how or why Lucien would do such a thing to an innocent. Other than to hurt me.

Does he know I’m out?

Surely he doesn’t; Whitlock and my other attorneys were adamant on ensuring he didn’t have any knowledge of me. Not my whereabouts, not the outcome of my trial, not where Sadie went to live. Nothing but—

The letter.

“Fuck. He knows everything.”

“Knows what, Nadia?” Ra asks, perplexed.

There’s no time to explain. Flipping over in my seat, knees digging into the buttery soft leather still warm from my body's heat, I reach for the duffle bag in the back and start ripping the items out of it. Flinging them over the seats and ignoring where they land. Shirts, pants, shorts, socks, underwear, bras—everything. At least until I find the jeans I took off the day I went to Sadie’s childhood home.

“Nadia, I need you to start talking.”

Ra sounds calm; wouldn’t be surprised if he’s maintaining this low tone and speaking calmly to bring me down from this panic. I know he can see it, since he’s watching me through that fucking monitor. Almost as if I traded one prison for another.

Finding the jeans, I shove my hand into the pocket stuffed with paper, and draw out the letter I found in her room. Chucking the denim right back to the rear seat, a light slap on the upholstery fading into the tense-silence, white I ignore the unimpressed huff that Ra snorts. Sitting in the driver seat, facing forward, my hands tremble as I hesitantly unfold the ends and read it all over again.

My dear, dear Sadie,

I hope this letter finds you well. It will be my first and only letter to you. I can picture your beautiful face and big eyes flicking through the words, confused as to why you received communications from a prison. Truth be told, I’m beyond excited tospeak with you. This has been a long time in the making, Sadie. I know you may have questions, a lot of them, and if I know anything about your birth mother, you will have them ready for me. I promise to answer every one of them.

Unfortunately, you and I are missing vital pieces of our lives. Damning us to this dreadful existence. You, sweet girl, were not supposed to be born. I tried to stop it, prevent your mother from having a child, leaving you so vulnerable and unprotected. I was too late, and while this doesn’t come from a place of hatred, our bloodline is filthy and needs to be eradicated.

Your mother has tried to reach out to you over the duration of your life, but I had someone intercept those attempts and destroy the letters so you wouldn’t be tricked into believing her treachery. She is a wretch, she deserves nothing other than to rot for her sins. You though, sweet girl, are going to be the one who brings this all to an end. Below the surface, you will end up just like us, dark, depraved, a deviant… a Judas.

I will see you soon, Sadie; just the two of us.

My beautiful, corruptive girl.

Be good,

Uncle Lucien

Uncle. Lucien

Uncle. Motherfucking. Lucien.

“Ra.” Blurting his name out, I flip the page over then back to the front and skim the words again.

“Oh, now you talk to me?”

“Don’t be a shit. There was something on my mind and I had to look for it. I need a favor.” My reply is sharp, desperate,and to the point.

“By all means, Your Majesty. I’ve given you money, a car, clothing, a phone, and are sending you across the country. What else do you need from me?”

I almost hear him mumble some shit about being just like every other woman in this country—unappreciative—but I blow him off. It’s only been a handful of days but I’ve learned enough to know when he’s trying to bait me. Unfortunately, he’s not going to get the reaction he wants out of me. At least not now. Not when I’m holding a whole fucking clue in my hands and I was just too damn distraught when I first read it to comprehend what the hell it was saying.

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