Page 205 of Ruin Me With Lies
“Not yet, babe.”He nips at my earlobe, teasing.“For now, how about you teach me all about this damn chip…over poor-people ginger cookies?”
What the hell is he hiding?What deal locked him in enough to get chipped?
My pulse quickens.
“I swear to Hell, Stefano, if you made my dad use you to hand my mom a win over me, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
He just hugs me tighter.
~
WE SPEND HOURStalking, drifting through the house from one spot to another, our limbs tangled, fingers lazily tracing each other’s skin.He fills me in on his hazy week with Dad, and I answer all his questions, filling in the blanks.
From what he recounts, Dad didn’t hold back.Flew him to several of our divisions, exposed him to some of our seediest inner workings without warning, trying to scare him off.
Too bad he underestimated Stefano.He could’ve saved himself the time and effort if he’d just believed me when I told him what kind of man Stefano is.Stubbornly unyielding, tenacious, gutsy.
When he sets his sights on something, he doesn’t stop until it’s his.For Stefano, failure’s not a deterrent, but a challenge.
Dad and I had struck a deal: during Stefano’s hunt for me, he could do whatever he wanted to throw him off.Mislead, intimidate, block, confuse.If Stefano still persisted and found me, Dad would have to accept him.Give us his blessing.But then he broke that deal by kidnapping Stefano in Zytglogge.
And I.Saw.Red.
“What happened with your brother?”Stefano’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
We’re outside now, stretching our legs after devouring the hearty beef bourguignon meal brought up to us an hour ago.The sun has dipped behind the mountains, leaving the sky awash in deep purples and streaks of tangerine.
“Huh?”
“Your sixteenth birthday,” he clarifies.“I picked up some hints over the last week…but Ireallywant to believe I’m reading it wrong.”
There was a time when even thinking about that night would have me shrinking in on myself, like a snail withering under salt.Exposed, fragile, disintegrating.
For eleven agonizing minutes that night, I was utterly helpless.That helplessness slowly morphed into blinding, white-hot rage.Over time, that rage cooled into something colder, more dangerous: numbness.Complete emptiness.
Now, when my mind drifts back to that night, to Sevyn, to Mom, I feel nothing.No pain.No anger.
Just…nothing.
Which is how I’m able to respond now with cool detachment.“If you pieced together that my brother raped me...then yeah.Sevyn and his two puppet friends cornered me while I was showering, and they held me down while he brutally ripped my hymen.Afterward, he dared me to tell Mom.Said, ‘See who she’ll believe, you dumb slut.’We both knew the answer.”
I pause.Take a breath.“So no, I didn’t run to her.I stayed locked in my room and let him have the party to himself.He never liked that we had to share a birthday celebration.I sat with my crossbow and bolts and waited until the guests were gone.Sevyn and his friends were out by the pool, drunk and rowdy, their guards down, all laughs and jokes.No remorse about what they did to me.”
The cool evening wind whips my air-dried waves across my face, and I try to tuck as much of it as possible behind my ear.“I shot the two friends who held me down first.Through the chest.But Sevyn didn’t deserve death.He needed to suffer.So I arrowed him precisely where I knew it would permanently fuck him up for life.Then I took an arrow and stabbed his cock.Repeatedly.Made sure he’d never feel pleasure again.The end.”
Stefano stops walking.Which prompts me to stop and turn to him.
“Hey,” I grit out.“Don’t fucking look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m a victim.”I jab a finger in his face.“I’m not a fucking victim.”
“Understood.”A beat.“Can I hug you?”
“Why?Because you feel sorry for me?”
“No.”He smooths out his features.“Because I love you.”
