“What do you mean by that, Karlyn?” Phantom carefully asked, reaching across her computer for my hand, stroking it gently.
I knew why she was being gentle with me, why Sypher and Nav were staying quiet. Everyone knew what Steele did to me, that he almost killed me. The memory was a hot coal in my gut, a betrayal of every instinct that screamed for self-preservation. I wanted to recoil, to flinch away from her touch, but I also craved the comfort—a dangerous weakness I had sworn to eradicate.
“I was coming out of dance class when they grabbed me. I didn’t know who they were at first. Momma and Daddy kept me hidden growing up, only showing me off when it was time for Daddy’s reelection, or some fancy party where Daddy liked showing off what a good Christian family looked like. They didn’t know I knew the truth about them. I may have been young and naïve, but I wasn’t stupid.” Part of me, the part that stilldesperately wanted to believe in a shred of normalcy, wanted to shut down, to pretend none of it had happened. But the other part, the one Steele had so expertly carved into existence with his cruelty, demanded this truth, this raw exposure.
Phantom frowned. “The truth about what, Karlyn?”
Looking at the only club sister of the Golden Skulls and Bullseye’s wife, I smirked. My smirk felt alien, a performance. My true self cringed, wanting to disappear, to confess I was making it all up, that the shame was too much to bear. But the words, once set in motion, seemed to have a life of their own, fueled by a venom I hadn’t known I possessed. “That Momma and Daddy were freaks. I don’t mean any disrespect, but I didn’t need to be a genius to know that my dad preferred men and my mom enjoyed the rougher side of sex. I saw their playroom. You see, my parents were married in name only. To the outside world, they were the perfect couple, representing everything good and Christian in the world. Behind closed doors, I would watch my mother crawl naked on the floor as men used her body for their own perversions, and my dad, well, he was worse.” My confession hung in the air, a foul odor. I had revealed the rot beneath the gilded façade, a truth that felt like a weapon, and a part of me was terrified of the destruction it might wreak, both on them and on the fragile trust I was building. I had wanted to hurt Steele, and in doing so, I had plunged a knife into the heart of my own carefully constructed past, a past I now had to live with, forever tainted.
“Your parents were submissive.”
I nodded, the word tasting foul in my mouth. Submissive. It was a gentle word for the suffocating, silent resignation that had permeated our home. Dad was, I suspected, what you’d call... obedient. A trained dog waiting for a command. Momma was what you’d call a pet. Not even a companion, just an object to be admired, and sometimes, to be handled. If I got the termright. The rightness of it, or the wrongness, felt like a distant, irrelevant concern now.
Phantom nodded, her expression unreadable. She didn’t judge the way others might. She simply absorbed.
“When I was kidnapped,” I continued, my memories a raw, festering wound, “I thought it was one of Daddy’s rivals, maybe another candidate who wanted to bring Daddy to heel, politically. Someone who understood that leverage was the only language he truly spoke. Only, it wasn’t. I didn’t know Momma was sleeping with Steele.” My admission was a betrayal, not just of my father, but of the fragile, unspoken trust I’d held for my mother. She was supposed to be the victim, the innocent pawn. Not an accomplice. Not a player in this sick game.
“Hold up, baby,” Jackson interrupted, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. “Your mother was sleeping with Steele?” His disbelief was etched on his face, a crack in his usual unwavering certainty.
I nodded, the motion jerky. “Yeah.” My gaze drifted to the stained carpet, unable to meet his eyes. “I was gone for two days when Momma entered the room I was being held in. I’d never been so happy to see her in my life. She was my lifeline, the one person I thought would truly fight for me. But when she walked over to me and smiled, I knew something was off about her. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, and when I looked at her, I could see the... the emptiness. Her carefully constructed mask of virtue stripped away, and beneath it, a chilling evil. She told me to be a good girl.” A shiver ran down my spine, a phantom echo of that night. “I didn’t understand, not then. But when Steele and two other men walked in, I quickly learned what she meant. That night, the two men raped and beat me as my mother stood by and watched. Then, Steele fucked her, in front of me. Every time I screamed out, Steele would laugh and fuck my mother harder. She enjoyed it.”
My words choked me, each syllable a shard of glass. The memory of her face, the slight tilt of her head, the subtle arch of her back, the way her breath hitched, not in pain, but in something far more sinister. And in that moment, a deep, corrosive shame washed over me. I had been so eager to believe in her goodness, to see her as the wronged party. But she hadn’t been a victim. She’d been a participant.
And I, her daughter, had been the price of her pleasure.
“Jesus Christ,” Nav cursed, his voice rough as he rose from the couch and walked over to a window, his back to us, the gesture of retreat a stark illustration of his revulsion. He couldn’t bear to look. But I couldn’t look away from the memory.
“Afterward,” I whispered, the memory of her words a sticky, vile residue, “Momma told me I did my Christian duty. That if God willed it, I would get pregnant.” The irony, the sickening hypocrisy, was almost unbearable. My mother, who had so readily abandoned her duty to God and humanity, preached scripture to me after defiling me. “Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant.”
The simple fact was a punch to the gut.
The finality of it.
The universe’s cruel joke, rubbing salt into an already gaping wound.
“Karlyn,” Phantom gently pressed, her voice a balm, yet it couldn’t soothe my inner turmoil. “Do you know the men who raped you?” Her question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken dread.
This was the precipice.
The point of no return.
I slowly nodded, unable to look at her. My shame was a physical weight, pressing down on my chest.
“Will you tell me who they were?” Phantom’s gaze was steady, expectant.
I shook my head. “I can’t.” My voice cracked. “Because if I tell you who they are, Jackson will leave. And he’ll kill them.” The thought of Jackson, consumed by rage, by his own righteous fury, sent a fresh wave of panic through me. I knew his capacity for violence. I’d seen it. And I knew that unleashing him on these men would be... cathartic. A perverse justice. But it would also break him. It would consume him. And I didn’t want that. Not even for them.
“Gonna kill them anyway, baby,” Jackson growled, his voice a low, dangerous hum. His grip tightened around my waist—possessive, protective, and a little too fierce. “Just be easier if you told me who I was looking for.”
Easier for him. Easier for me? The temptation was immense. To let him. To let him be the instrument of my vengeance. To watch him unleash hell. But it felt wrong. A sin I couldn’t commit, even to right such a monstrous wrong.
I lowered my head, the conflict tearing at me. “That’s just it, Jackson,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “You already know them.” My words were a surrender, a forced confession that felt like another violation. Because knowing them meant acknowledging a deeper betrayal, a truth I desperately wanted to bury.
I felt Jackson stiffen under me, his hold tightening, his breath catching. “Who?” he growled, the single word a coiled viper. He was waiting. Waiting for me to name the architects of my destruction. And I knew with sickening certainty that my answer would shatter us both.
“I can’t,” I whispered, my words caught in my throat, thick with unshed tears. “If I tell you, you’ll leave again. And I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.” My voice cracked, a fragile sound against the rising tide of my fear. The memory of him leaving, the agonizing emptiness that followed, was a constant ache in my soul. I’d waited so long to feel his presence, to feel wholeagain, and the thought of him walking away, of being abandoned once more, was a terror I couldn’t bear.
“Karlyn, tell me,” Jackson ordered firmly, his voice a low rumble, laced with a desperation that mirrored my own. He tightened his hold around me, his presence a solid anchor in the swirling chaos of my past.
