Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 117(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
He jerks his chin in a nod. "He's in DC, but he'll be on the first flight back out here. He wants you to call him." Constantine stops in front of me, tipping his head down to frown at me. "What did Belle say?"
"She said I'm fine, exactly like I told you." It's mostly true. Physically, I'm fine. But she thinks I should probably talk to a therapist or someone who deals with things like this. She's probably not wrong about that, but I don't want to talk to anyone yet. At least not to a stranger.
Constantine hooks his finger beneath my chin, tipping my head back until my eyes meet his. "What did she really say, Aurora?"
I scowl at him. "She thinks I should talk to someone. A shrink."
"Ah. You don't want to talk to anyone?"
"Not yet." I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. "It's still too close."
He nods again like this makes perfect sense to him. "Give it a few days, starlight. You're allowed to take all the time you need to sit with what happened. You're allowed to fall apart or break down or scream or rage or deal however you need to deal. There is no right or wrong way here."
"How do you deal?" I bite my lip. "I mean, I think you went through some things too. They weigh on you, don't they?"
"Sometimes. But my shit was a long time ago and it wasn't the same."
"What was your…stuff?"
"Foster care." His gaze shifts from mine before sliding back. "Never met my parents. They dumped me when I was born and never looked back. I bounced around foster homes for a while, but that didn't work out. The last one…well, there are evil men in this world, starlight. They prey on women and kids just because they can."
"Oh, Constantine." Tears well in my eyes, horror for him flowing through me. "He hurt you?"
"Beat the hell out of me on the daily. His wife too. She was too terrified to say anything, so when I told my social worker what was happening, she denied everything, said I made it up. They sent me back there." His eyes narrow. "I ran away the next morning."
"I'm so sorry."
"It was a long time ago."
"That doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt you."
"He was the first person I killed," he admits. "Don't even know why I went back, but I saw the bruises on the little girl playing in the yard and knew he hadn't changed. I waited until he left to go to the bar that night and followed him. He didn't remember me, but I remembered him. He didn't hurt anyone else after that."
"How old were you?"
"Seventeen."
I push myself into his arms, hugging him tight. He was just a kid, failed by the people supposed to protect him, watching the same thing happen to another child. How can I blame him for what he did? I'm angry for him. He never should have had to make that decision. And yet he did.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, leaning up on my toes to press my lips to his jaw.
"I'm not a hero, starlight. He deserved it. A lot of others didn't. They were just business." He meets my gaze, his open and honest. He doesn't lie to me or try to make himself look better. He just gives me the truth as he sees it. "I'm not a good man. I haven't been one in a long fucking time."
"That doesn't make you evil, Constantine. It doesn't make you irredeemable. It makes you human," I whisper, placing my palm against his scruffy jaw. "I saw evil. I lived with it for two months, wondering when it'd strike. Sooner or later, I was leaving that room in a body bag or as some man's property. We both know it."
He flinches but doesn't deny it. Eventually, Victor would have killed me or sold me. We both know it's true. He wasn't going to let me go, not without the money he wanted for me, not unless I died first. Those were my only two ways out of that room.
Constantine may not be a hero in his eyes, but he's the reason I'm alive in mine. Maybe that doesn't tip the scales far enough for him, but if even half of the men he's killed are like Victor or the one who hurt him, then maybe the cosmic scales that weigh and measure the worth of our souls were never as off-balance as he thinks.
He's not a bad man. He's one who does what he must. It's a subtle, but distinct nuance that makes all the difference in the world.
"I'd like to talk to my dad," I whisper, dropping back down to the ground. "Can I do that?"
"Yeah, starlight. I promised you'd call him as soon as you were done with Belle. He's waiting to hear from you." He fishes in his pocket for his phone before holding it out for me.