“I think you should sit down, Amara,” Enzo says behind me, his hand landing on my shoulder heavily. I immediately pull back as if his touch is searing my skin like a hot iron.
“I think you should never touch me again,” I growl, taking a step away to put more distance between us. In his eyes, a fiery rage stirs like a volcano ready to blow. “You lost the right to touch me, and don’t think you will ever earn it back.”
His hands once brought me immense pleasure, but with it came pain. Dark, stab yourself in the heart, pain. Such deep and angry pain, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to come back from it. I saved myself today, not with an ounce of help from this man—he killed my father, yet he still feels he has the right to touch me? Protect me?
“Amara…” I turn my attention to Jared, the concern etched into his features is obvious. His dark hair is a mess, and his eyes look haunted as if he’s about to tell me something I won’t like. I guess there isn’t any better time than now.
“Tell me. Someone needs to tell me what the fuck is going on,” I demand. Both Enzo and Jared look at each other with matching worried expressions.
“I think we should—” Jared starts.
“I think you should tell me. Right fucking now.” My eyes narrow at the two of them. Keeping secrets in the situation we are in isn’t helping.
Enzo’s large hand curls into his hair as he goes around the couch to sit down.
Taking a deep breath, Jared exhales. “John wasn’t your father.”
The words hit me like a brick wall, my mind spiraling out of control.
“Why would you say something like that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“Funny, ’cause I remember very clearly John being there my entire life, reading me bedtime stories, teaching me how to ride a bike, and taking me to the father-daughter dance. I don’t remember a different dad being there. So don’t insult the memory of my father with your fucking lies. Thanks to Enzo, he’s nothing but a dead body on my childhood home’s wood floor.”
Jared cringes at the words.
“No, I mean John wasn’t your biological father.”
“You’re lying,” I cry out, not wanting to hear anything else he has to say.
Jared shakes his head, dark locks falling onto his forehead. “I was trying to find you and when I was digging for some info—”
“Stop!” I back away further until my back is against a wall.
“I went to my father and asked if he could help—”
“Just stop. Make it stop,” I scream, my throat aching. I can’t handle it anymore. My fingers grip at my scalp to bring something else to life. To make me feel something other than the pain of betrayal and death.
“Amara, John lied. He wasn’t your father.”
“I don’t fucking care… I don’t care! He was the man who raised me. He was my father in any way that counts. Even if you are telling the truth, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you get that?” I yell, feeling my body losing the last bit of energy as I slump to the floor.
“Let me take care of her and get her cleaned up. Then you can talk to her,” I hear Enzo say. I’m over everything. I want to turn it all off. I want the hate, anger, and sadness to go away.
Looking up at him with tears clinging to my lashes, I see Jared nod. I get the feeling that there is more he wants to tell me, but I just don’t have the energy to listen.
Enzo walks over, bends down, and scoops me up in his arms. I don’t want to be held or touched by the man who has caused me so much heartache, but I don’t think I can manage to walk—hell, even stand.
He carries me down the hall to the right and then into a bedroom. Sitting me on the bed, he turns around and closes the door. The silence eats away at everything that made us who we are.
Pulling at my dirty clothes, I rip them off, not caring if he watches me. I don’t want to be covered in dirt any longer. I don’t want to be reminded of this day ever again.
Once in my bra and panties, I cross the room to what I assume is the bathroom.
“You can’t run from this.” He sounds as if he has a fire in his voice. He has no reason to be angry.
“I can and will do whatever the fuck I want, Mr. King. You’re nothing to me. You lost me the moment you betrayed me.” Once in the bathroom, I slam the door and lock it. I don’t want to see his face. I want nothing to do with him. My heart aches with every beat as if it is going to burst from an overflow of heartache.