ChapterOne
Drew
Please read the note at the start of this book
“She hasn’t had a good week,” Selena says as we hop out of the golf cart in the residential section of the facility and walk the rest of the way on foot. “Felicity has been meeting with her daily.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I drag a hand through my hair. “And I’m sorry I missed my visit on Monday. It couldn’t be helped.” I grind my teeth to the molars as I think of my wasted trip. It’s been like this over the years. I get a breakthrough and think I’m close to finding the person or persons who set everything in motion, only to hit roadblock after roadblock and find the path closed to me. It’s damn frustrating to have come this far and still not have all the answers I need.
“I know you’re a busy man. She understands too.”
Curtains twitch in the cabin next to the one we are walking toward, but I keep my focus on the gray door that is our destination, wondering what kind of reception I’ll receive today. I can never predict what situation I’m walking into. “I appreciate you taking the time to greet me personally.” Selena is crazy busy, and I haven’t seen her for a while.
We stop at the door, and she turns to face me. “I know you’re worried. I wanted an opportunity to talk to you. To reassure you.” Her stunning face softens with compassion. “We’ve had other extreme cases, and those survivors pulled through. She will too.” She lays a gentle hand on my arm. “It takes time. Every person is unique, just like their healing process. Recovery cannot be rushed.”
“I understand, and I’m not impatient with the process or doubtful of the care she’s receiving. I know Vera is in the best place. Getting the best treatment. I will continue to support her for as long as she needs me. It just hurts.” I swallow a painful gulp. “To see her like this. To know…” A muscle clenches in my jaw, and I try not to go there.
Selena squeezes my arm. “My offer still stands. There is no shame in talking to someone, Drew. It would help.”
“I’ll consider it,” I repeat for the umpteenth time. We both know I’ll never take her up on the offer. Selena means well, but therapy will not quench this raging inferno continuously burning inside me.
Only revenge will quell those flames.
“I’m available to you any time you need to talk. That offer is always there too.” Compassion shines from her eyes and I know she means it.
Selena Kennedy—the founder and owner of Moonlight, a facility for survivors of sexual trauma and sex trafficking—is the only person on this Earth who knows the truth. I had to tell her when I found Vera and needed help. What she has achieved through Moonlight, over the years, is nothing short of miraculous.
I’m lucky she had a place for Vera because the facility is in high demand, being the only fully immersive rehabilitation program of its kind in the US. The entire Kennedy family is lobbying the government for more funding so they can establish other similar facilities around the US. I hope they are successful. I have seen how necessary and effective these services are. Society owes it to survivors to help them get their lives back on track. Especially the ones we failed to protect as kids.
“I appreciate it,” I say.
She smiles softly while rapping on Vera’s door. She should be expecting me. For the past year, I have been visiting every Monday and Friday, only missing my biweekly visits if I’m out of the state or out of the country on business or chasing a lead.
The door swings open, and I subtly suck in a breath. Vera has worn her hair cropped or in a bob since I brought her back to the US from Venezuela, but she’s grown it out in recent months, and it’s like looking at a ghost. Her unkempt, greasy blonde locks are the exact same shade as her sister’s. The same piercing blue eyes stare back at me, but where I was used to warmth and vibrancy, Vera’s angry glare is a reminder they are not the same person, no matter how much they resemble one another.
Her lips curl into a sneer. “Are you coming in, or do you plan to just stare at me all day?”
Selena clears her throat. “I’ll leave you to talk in private. Call if you need anything.” She looks directly at Vera. “Felicity has freed up some time this afternoon if you need to talk with her again.”
“Thanks. I’ll probably take her up on that.” Vera scratches at the reddened skin on her arm. Her tone is softer, her expression warmer, as she stares at the woman who has gone above and beyond to help her. As a sex trafficking survivor, Selena understands more than anyone, and it’s why the men and women who live here seek her out more than most. She gets it, and she has come out the other side. She is the physical embodiment of what their lives can be. Proof that their abusers and kidnappers haven’t taken everything from them.
I truly hope Vera can get to that place one day, but there are times when it’s hard to hold on to that hope. She has been through the most horrific hell and hasn’t known anything else. My heart breaks every time I think of the things she has endured.
“I’ll talk to you later.” Selena waves as she walks off.
Vera turns and strides into the cozy cabin without uttering another word. Closing the door behind me, I follow her inside. Each full-time resident has their own one-bedroom one-bathroom cabin with an open-plan living space with a kitchen, dining area, and living room and a small patio and garden area at the rear.
The place is a mess. Dirty dishes clutter the sink, and half-eaten food-crusted cartons line the main counter. Books, clothes, and empty candy wrappers litter the floor. I’m betting it won’t be long before she’s forced to clean up. Selena has previously explained how maintaining a tidy space and a regular cleaning routine are important to fight depression.
Vera flops onto the couch in her stained sweats and plain tee, yanking a black, red, and white blanket up over her legs as she fixes me with a narrowed scowl.
Clearing some papers off one of the chairs, I sit and open the buttons on my suit jacket, getting comfortable as I stare at the troubled girl sitting across from me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to visit on Monday.”
She shrugs. “I’ve told you I don’t care. I’m not your responsibility, and I don’t need you to babysit me. We’re nothing to one another.”
“That’s not true, and you know it.” I try to hide my pain as my gaze roams her delicate features.
Vera drags bony fingers through straggly strands of her hair. “Liking what you see,An-drew?” She enunciates the word, and it’s a true talent to sound both seductive and disgusted in the same breath. She leans forward, her eyes blazing with familiar fire.
