Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sunrise is coming.
There’s a hint of light on the horizon, the pitch black sky a deep purple hue in the east, slowly pushing toward blue. Another hour or so and the skyline will be streaked with colors, orange and pink and white as the sun settles in, daylight arriving. It’s weird, the twitch of anticipation I feel.
I haven’t watched the sun come up in weeks. I’m still awake whenever it happens, my internal clock set to see it, but the clouds or buildings have blocked my view.
I miss it.
I miss her.
I try not to think about it so much. Maybe that’s hard for you to understand. But dwelling gets me no closer to finding the end to this drawn-out nightmare. So I compartmentalize. I tuck it away, deep inside of me, locking it up somewhere safe where the world can’t touch it, where reality can’t reach it or try to take it from me. It gets me through every minute of every hour. Without it, I’m not sure I’d survive much longer.
“Shove your apology up your ass, Scarlet. I don’t accept it.”
The voice calls out behind me, loud and brash, a genuine hint of anger in his words that makes a chill flow through me.
Lorenzo.
I’m standing on the ledge on the roof of this apartment building again, one of the last places I should be, probably, but I knew I’d be able to catch the sunrise from here.
Guess he knew it, too.
Didn’t take him long to find me.
I didn’t expect him to bother, to be honest, but there’s that little part of me that selfishly hoped he cared. He shouldn’t, because I bring nothing but trouble, but still… I yearn to mean something.
Do you know what that’s like?
To know you’re poison but still be desperate for someone to sip from you anyway?
“Did you kill him?” I ask quietly, staring out at the city, over toward Brooklyn, where I know he went last night. Where I know he heard my truth. How much of it, I’m not sure, but knowing Kassian, it would be just enough.
“Wanted to,” he says. “Thought about it. Almost did it. But no, he’s still alive.”
The relief I feel sickens me. The world around me spins. I close my eyes, to take a deep breath, trying to calm my achey chest.
I hear Lorenzo approach. He purposely snuck up on me, making no noise on his way to the roof, but he’s being deliberate about it now, warning me he’s coming closer.
Opening my eyes again, I carefully turn around, words on the tip of my tongue about how I truly am sorry he got mixed up in my mess, when the wind is knocked right out of me. It feels like a fist slams into my gut. I gasp. My heart stalls. My vision grows hazy until I see nothing.
I almost collapse.
My knees go weak, legs starting to buckle, foot slipping on the edge of the ledge. I sway, damn near falling, the sight hitting me like tank.
Buster.
Lorenzo holds the teddy bear upside down by its foot. It’s in worse shape than I’ve ever seen it, but I know that bear.
I’d recognize it anywhere.
“Jesus fuck.” Something flashes in Lorenzo’s eyes. It almost looks like fear. He darts forward, snatching ahold of me, yanking me back onto the roof. I slip again, almost falling, this time onto him, but he keeps me upright, slamming me back against the ledge, pinning me there with his body. “I swear to God, if you throw yourself off this roof, I’m jumping after you, and I’m going to catch you.”
Whoa. I don’t know what to make of those words.
My eyes widen, my heart racing.
“I’ll catch you,” he says again, his face so close to mine I can feel his breath on my skin, “because in those few seconds before you hit the ground, I’m going to fucking choke the life out of you for doing that shit. You got me?”
“I got you,” I whisper, surprised I can even speak.
He keeps me pinned there, pressed flat up against me, staring me dead in the face. I’m frozen, like I’m made from stone, unable to move... unable to look. He’s holding it in his hand, and I don’t know why, and I don’t know what it means, but it’s the closest I’ve gotten to her in ten long months. I need it to be real.
“I got you,” he says, his voice low, serious, and I think at first he’s just echoing what I said, until he raises his eyebrows, emphasizing them. “I got you. It’s okay.”
I blink rapidly, my eyes burning, a lump in my throat that I’m struggling to swallow back.
“I got you,” he says for the third time, “but I’m telling you, if you start fucking crying on me right now, if you start boo-hoo’ing, there’s a chance I’ll just throw you over the side myself, so don’t do it.”
“I’m trying not to,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“Good,” he says. “You think I can let go? You think you can stand up on your own?”
I nod.
He lets go of me, taking a step back.
As soon as he does, my feet come out from under me, and I slide right down to the roof on my ass. My shirt catches on the ledge, the old crumbly bricks scraping my back, as a noise comes out of me. A loud noise. An inhuman noise. I quickly cover my mouth to stifle it.
Tears burn my eyes, obscuring my vision.
Buster is right there, inches from my face.
I reach for the bear, grasping hold of its arm, and Lorenzo relinquishes it to me, not hesitating at all. As I clutch it to my chest, I pull my knees up, folding into myself. Tears break free and stream down my cheeks.
I cry.
Fuck it.
I can’t hold it back anymore.
My chest aches, my stomach clenches, and I can’t catch my breath because I cry so hard. I’m hyperventilating, a mess, falling apart. Lorenzo just stands there, not consoling me, but he doesn’t leave, either. He stays right in front of me, staring out into the city, as I sob.
“I asked one thing of you,” he says when I calm down. “One thing. That’s it. I said don’t cry.”
I laugh at that, although my tears are still falling, laughing and crying at the same time, like a maniac. It’s not funny, no, but it’s so fucked up that I can’t help myself. “Sorry.”
“Jesus... don’t apologize, either. Stop saying you’re sorry all the fucking time.”
I want to point out that I’ve said it only maybe three times to him total, and that I should be apologizing, but I keep my mouth shut as I wipe my face on my shirt, trying to dry my eyes. I know it makes him uncomfortable. Emotion. Remorse. Tears. Apologies. The whole nine yards.
I press my face against the teddy bear, inhaling deeply. Dust tickles my nose. It smells musty. It doesn’t smell at all like sunshine or innocence. There’s no her in the bear anymore.
I don’t know what happened.
More tears fall, silent ones this time. I wipe them away and just sit there, hugging Buster.
After a moment, Lorenzo lets out a dramatic sigh before sitting down on the roof beside me, maybe a foot of space between us. We’re not touching, but he’s close enough that I can feel his warmth.
“Are you done crying now?” he asks.
I laugh again. “You’re such an asshole.”
“I was going to talk to you,” he says, “but you might blow snot on me with all that blubbering.”
I shake my head, wiping my nose on my sleeve. I’m a mess, but there’s nothing else I can do about it. It isn’t like he brought along any tissues.
Turning my head, I gaze at him. The sky is steadily lightening. I can make him out better now than when he showed up. Uneasiness wafts from him as he picks at the skin around his fingernails, out of his element. For the first time since I’ve met this man, he’s letting his nerves show, his guard lowering just enough for me to see it. I can tell he doesn’t want to be doing this, but he’s doing it, and that’s not something I ever expected from him.
He doesn’t owe me anything.
He glances at me, surveying my face. Reaching over, he grabs my right hand, turning it over, palm up, my wrist bending as he pushes the tattoo there toward me. My Scarlet Letter, he calls it.
I glance down at it. “Sasha.”
“Pity,” he says. “I hoped it would end up standing for ‘salad tosser’. I was looking forward to it.”
I roll my eyes, snatching my hand back away.
“It was different at first,” I say, running my fingers along the ridges of the tattoo, feeling for the scar beneath it. I can even still see it, if I look hard enough. “He carved an ‘S’ into my wrist. I hated it… hated seeing it. It stood for something else back then.”
“Suka.”
I cringe, hearing that word in his voice.
“Yes,” I say. “So after I escaped him, I covered it with her… the only good thing that ever came from me being his suka.”
It’s quiet after that, the two of us sitting here, as I stare out along the roof.
He knows my truth.
“What’s your first memory?” I ask after a while.
He doesn’t hesitate, answering, “The night my father was murdered. I remember coming down the steps and seeing the gun in the man’s hand. First time I ever saw one.”
“Do you remember your father?”
He shakes his head.
“I don’t remember my parents,” I say. “My first memory is of a social worker telling me the home I’d been living in didn’t want me anymore. I was five. I remember being so upset. I just wanted a family. I wanted a mom, but I never got one. So when I had Sasha, I was determined to give her what I never got. I was going to be the best goddamn mom on the planet.”
“I’m sure you’re a great mother.”
“I tried to be,” I say quietly. “I was only sixteen when I had her, and I had no idea what I was doing, but I knew we had to get away from Kassian, so I took her and ran. It wasn’t perfect, but we were happy… until he caught up to us. He took her, and he left me for dead. I haven’t seen her since. I don’t know where she is.”
Tears break free again.
I’m trying not to cry, because the man is actually listening, but it’s hard holding it back now that I’ve been cracked open.
I went to the police. I went to Child Protective Services. I’ve talked to lawyers and social workers and private investigators. Nobody wants to get involved. They all refuse to help.
Kassian is powerful. He’s wealthy. He’s terrifying. So they all just called it a ‘domestic problem’ and sent me packing.
In the beginning, I staked out his house. I kept an eye on the club. I followed his men around. Not once did I see her, or any sign that Kassian even had her, but I knew.
I know.
He’s got her somewhere.
“Did you...?” I trail off. “I mean, was she...?”
“I didn’t see her,” Lorenzo says, answering a question I can’t bring myself to finish. “The bear was on a fireplace mantle. He said it was just collecting dust, so he figured you’d want it.”
I close my eyes as those words sink in. They hurt, like a punch to the chest, strong enough to knock my heart out of rhythm so it might never beat right again. “Buster was her security blanket. She loved this bear. She carried him everywhere. She wouldn’t... she wouldn’t just give him up. Especially now. She’s gotta be terrified. She just turned five, and she’s never been away from me until this happened, and now... now she’s really alone, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.”
“If she’s anything like you, Scarlet, she’s resilient.”
“But she shouldn’t have to be,” I whisper. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s… perfect. She’s smart, and beautiful, and so just good. There’s this kindness inside of her that is so pure, like they took the sunrise and stuck it in this fierce little body. She’s walking sunshine. And ten months is a long time for the sun to go without shining. It’s a long time for her to go without being shown she’s loved. And I don’t know how much longer it’ll be, and all I can think is... will she even remember me? And I think that’s what terrifies me most, that when my story ends, the very last words will be, ‘and she never saw her again’. Because that could happen.”
“Fuck that.”
I look at Lorenzo as I brush stray tears from my cheeks.
“Seriously, fuck that,” he says. “That’s not happening.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m not going to let it.”
I shake my head, letting out an incredulous laugh.
“Look, I get it,” he says. “You have no reason to trust me.”
“You have no reason to help me.”
“Oh, bullshit,” Lorenzo says, shoving to his feet. “I’ve got plenty of reasons to help you.”
I stare at him. “Name one.”
“I can name a dozen.”
I wave at him. “Well, then, go on, I’m listening.”
“One,” he says, “I’m bored as shit and it’s something to do. There’s not a lot else to do right now.”
“That’s a terrible reason.”
“But it’s a reason, nonetheless,” he says. “Two, I don’t like the guy. He thinks he’s better than me. That, alone, makes me want to go after him.”
“That’s a slightly better reason.”
“Three, I’ve already knocked out...” He pauses, counting under his breathing, using his fingers. Unbelievable. “...five self-proclaimed mob bosses, and six is a nice, well-rounded number, so number six needs to happen.”
“That’s just a ridiculous reason.”
“Four,” he continues, “I don’t like kids, don’t want kids, but one thing I dislike more than kids are people who hurt kids, so fuck him.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“Five, I raised my brother to save him from a father a lot like Aristov. So if I can help save your daughter, to spare her the same way, you’re goddamn right I’m in.”
“I get it. You’ve made your point.”
“I don’t think I have,” he says. “Six, I like you.”
That one catches me off guard. “You like me.”
“Yeah, I mean, you’re a pain in my ass sometimes, but you’re not half-bad.”
“I’m not half-bad.”
He gazes down at me, a slight smile on his lips. “You’re gorgeous, and smart, and funny... you eat the whole orange and don’t just suck the juice out and throw it away like other people. That makes you a catch in my book.”
I’m not sure how to react to that. Tears swim in my eyes, but now he’s got me blushing. What the hell? “I’m a catch?”
“Don’t let that shit get to your head,” he says right away. “Never in there did I say I wasn’t still throwing your ass back when this is all done.”
He says that, but I’m still blushing. “Noted.”
“Seven, you just cried like a bitch in front of me, and I never want that to happen again. I don’t like it.”
“Are you done yet?”
“No,” he says. “Reasons eight through eleven, that pussy of yours is beautiful.”
I roll my eyes.
His leg shoots out, kicking my shin hard enough that I wince.
“I’m serious,” he says, his voice sounding pretty damn serious as he says that. “Roll your eyes all you want, but I happen to think pussy is a damn good reason to go to battle.”
“Fine,” I say, “is that it?”
“Just one more,” he says, squatting down in front of me. “Reason number twelve, you’ve got a mini-me out there somewhere, and I kind of want the chance to meet a little Scarlet.”
“You don’t like kids,” I point out.
“True, I don’t,” he says. “But she’s your kid, which means there’s a decent chance she’s not half-bad, either.”
I stare at him.
I don’t know what to say.
His words sound so genuine. This isn’t the reaction I expected. Not to say I didn’t think he had it in him. But I’m used to being kicked while I’m down, and I haven’t quite figured out what to make of Lorenzo. Sometimes, when I look at him, I see the dangerous, cold-hearted criminal, the one that has killed at least two men since we met two months ago, but other times I see a man with a deep soul, generous and warm, the kind of man a woman could fall in love with if she wasn’t careful.
But I have to be careful.
“Come on,” Lorenzo says, standing up again, offering me his hand. “The sun’s up now, which means another day of bullshit is upon us, and I really need to acquire some breakfast if I’m going to do something about your little Pearl.”
I take his hand, letting him yank me to my feet. I know I must look like hell, having cried my eyes out and forgone sleep, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. “Pearl?”
“Yeah, the kid in The Scarlet Letter? Didn’t you read the book in school?”
“I dropped out at fourteen,” I remind him. “I was pregnant at fifteen. Reading the classics wasn’t really on the syllabus at the Aristov residence.”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment, his face twisting with a grimace. “I just did math in my head.”
“And that disturbs you?”
“When the math I’m doing is how old Aristov was when he knocked you up, yeah.”
I want to point out that he has no idea exactly how disturbing that time of my life was, but I let it drop. I’m tired of thinking about Kassian. I’m tired of the way he still controls my life. So I pull myself together, tuck Buster under my arm, and glance around, my eyes grazing over the colorful horizon.
The sun is up, shining brightly.
I didn’t watch it happen, but I still feel like a weight has been lifted. I almost feel hopeful again.
I glance back at Lorenzo, noticing he’s watching me. “I still think you’re a fool for helping me, but thank you. Really.”
He stares in silence for a moment, his expression passive, before he says, “Yeah, well, who’s more foolish... the fool or the fool who follows him?”
“Good question, Obi-wan.”
I start to walk away when Lorenzo grabs my arm, stopping me, pulling me toward him. “You’ve seen Star Wars?”
“Of course.”
“See, I’m sure now more than ever before that I’m going to help you.” Lorenzo’s expression cracks with a smile. “Reason number thirteen, Scarlet: I may just be your only hope.”