I could have sent one of our company’s security personnel. But I don’t take on responsibilities halfway. From the moment Ethan asked me to look after her, Lilly became mine to protect.
Half an hour later, I’m staring at my laptop, completely unable to focus. The promise I made to my friend keeps hijacking my thoughts.
Despite all my efforts to convince myself her presence won’t change anything, the idea of having Lilly here for a month is fucking with my head.
I’m a pragmatic man. I compartmentalize my life. And his sister doesn’t fit into any of those compartments—not even for thirty days.
Lilly, the proper little girl raised inside a protective bubble, has nothing in common with me. And yet, somehow, she caught my attention that Christmas—even when I wasn’t looking for sex. That’s a first.
I don’t get involved with women outside of physical arrangements—where both parties know exactly what they’re getting. No false hope. No emotional bullshit.
I’m not interested in a relationship. I don’t believe I’m even capable of maintaining one.
I may not have deep emotional ties with women, but I know this: trust is essential when two people walk side by side. And I don’t think I’m capable of trusting a woman.
Actually . . . anyone.
Ethan and Blood are the only exceptions. Besides them? Only my last adoptive parents—the ones who saved me in more ways than one.
They’re gone now, which makes my circle painfully small.
So why the hell can’t I stop thinking about Lilly?
Because what you want from her has nothing to do with friendship or trust,my subconscious whispers.
I should be focused on my mission—not obsessing over my best friend’s little sister. She’s forbidden. Completely off-limits.
Even if she weren’t Ethan’s sister, she’s still the type who wants romance, and I don’t have the time or the interest for that kind of relationship.
My life revolves around revenge. I live to wipe out the people who ruined so many children. They nearly ruined me. I was just one of the lucky ones—rescued by two people who were born to be parents. And while they couldn’t fix all my broken parts, they loved me enough to bring me back from the edge of insanity.
When I began hunting Jonathan and Maria, I believed that punishing them would finally allow me to let go of the past.
Two things were wrong with that belief:
First—there’s no forgetting the past. The deeper I dig into the lives of those bastards, the more hatred festers inside me.
Second—going after them was like opening Pandora’s box. What happened to me was only the tip of the iceberg. What I uncovered destroyed any faith I had left in humanity.
The world is rotten—and so are most of the people in it. And now I know that if I hadn’t escaped, I’d probably be dead.
After my last mom rescued me, the police raided the house where I was kept. But somehow, Jonathan and that woman slipped away.
Years later, as an adult, when I finally started tracking them down, I realized my life had been a fucking paradise compared to what went on in the other rooms.
Teenagers and children had been locked up, abused, and—after a while—they vanished.
When the cops got there, they found kids chained to beds. One in every room.
It took years, but I managed to track the bastards down—and what I found convinced me there was no other way. I had to end it.
Child trafficking is their business. Something far bigger than I ever imagined.
They’re part of a powerful ring of pedophiles. Politicians. Celebrities. Law enforcement. The worst of humanity.
I tell myself every day that I’m in control now—that what they did didn’t leave a mark. But the nightmares prove I haven’t gotten over shit.
I don’t do empathy. I don’t do emotional connections. Ethan came into my life by chance—we were at the same boarding school. Otherwise, I would’ve stayed a loner forever.
