Broderick (Sabine Valley 2)

“Yes. You did.”

“Violence is easy.” My voice is barely above a whisper. I want to stop talking, to cut this off before I bare my still-beating heart for this woman, but the only other person I’ve talked to about this is Broderick. And even then, I filtered so much, even more than I’m doing now. If he pitied me, I might just die. I exhale slowly. “It came naturally to me—it still does.” I guess I really am an Amazon down to my core. The thought might make me laugh if I could work up the energy for it. “I ended up as an enforcer for one of the local groups. They taught me everything I needed to know.”

“And the Paines?”

At that, I smile a little. “I tried to rob Broderick. He kicked my ass a little and then hauled me back to their sad excuse for a base. Within a couple days, I was taking orders from Abel. I haven’t looked back since.”

“Quick turnaround.”

I look at her. “You’ve been the heir to the Amazon throne your whole life. You don’t know what it’s like out there. The Paine brothers actually care about their people. They ask a lot of us, yes, but they value our lives and our safety. That kind of thing isn’t common.”

“I suppose not.” She combs her fingers through her hair, expression still contemplative. “Where did you say you were from, again?”

That surprises a laugh out of me. Does she really think she can trick me into telling her? Absolutely not. “You didn’t seriously mean it when you said you wanted to kill my parents.”

“When did they start burning you?”

Frustration bubbles up inside me, bringing the truth with it. “I was six. I had been playing with one of the neighborhood boys. Those silly kid games. He kissed me.”

She narrows her eyes. “Normal childhood stuff.”

“My parents didn’t think so.” I refuse to revisit that memory; their hateful words, my screams and sobbing.

Monroe nods slowly. “Twelve years is a long time, love. Someone has to balance the scales.”

“Stop calling me love.”

“Do you really want me to stop?” she fires back.

I’m speechless for a moment. Of course, I want her to stop. It’s… Damn it. “No.”

“Again, stop trying to change the subject. I would like the town name.”

I stare. “You’re serious.”

“I already told you I don’t bluff.”

She had. I just… “But I’m not one of your people.” Not anymore. Not ever as far as she knows. “You don’t have to play avenging Valkyrie for me.”

“You’re mixing up your mythologies.” She examines her nails. She’s painted them a matte beige color that looks professional and sleek. Monroe seems to change her nails a lot. That surprised me the first week, but now I suspect that doing so calms her and gives her some control when she’s feeling out of sorts.

She’s been feeling out of sorts a lot lately.

Or maybe I’m just projecting and the reason she changes her nails a lot is because she is a fickle woman who likes pretty things.

“Shiloh.”

“But why?”

She focuses entirely on me. After a pause where I find myself holding my breath, she crawls across the bed to kneel at my side and take my hand. “Because all children deserve to be protected. I can’t go back and save the child you were, but I can rain down hellfire and damnation on those responsible.” She gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Though, truly, there’s no way at least some people in that town didn’t know. They might have lied to themselves about the warning signs or looked away because it’s easier than fighting on behalf of someone being victimized, but they at least suspected.”

She’s right, of course. Someone did know. Her mother. Oh, I can’t be sure Aisling was aware of the extent of the abuse, but when she caught sight of me that single time, I was a borderline malnourished child. Obviously something was wrong, and she turned away instead of enacting that famous Amazonian justice.

What would Monroe think if she knew that?

It might drive a wedge between her and her mother. Or she might call me a liar and that would be the end of us, right here and now.

“Maybe I should burn the whole fucking town down,” she muses. “That would certainly send a message.”

I don’t mean to take her face in my hands. I really don’t. But my body moves without permission, and her skin is so fucking soft, completely at odds with the fierce violence in her voice. “Monroe,” I say, soft and slow. “You cannot burn down a town for me.” You cannot start a conflict with your own mother for me.

“I most certainly can.” She refocuses on me. “Whether or not I do it is still up for debate. My mother wouldn’t like it, but she wouldn’t stand in my way.”