“Luna.” I watched her closely as I rose to my feet. She was acting unpredictably, and it was making me nervous. I backed toward the door and put my right hand in my pants pocket, wrapping my fingers around the key, ready to escape if I needed to.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped, one hand pressed flat to the middle of her chest above her breasts. “I’m sorry. That’s just the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard in my life." The smile that lingered on her lips fell as she stared at the floor. "Mostly because it’s not funny at all, if you think about it.”
“It wasn’t a joke.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, then she wiped them with the heels of her hands. But I saw the uncertainty reflected there before she looked away again. “It’s got to be a joke. Or, or, an excuse to kidnap me and lock me up in here. I was nine when our mom died. Old enough to remember my father.”
“Okay. Then tell me, what do you remember about him?”
She sniffed as she dropped her eyes back down to the blanket in front of her, then she pulled it over her lap and rested her elbows on her knees. “Not much,” she admitted quietly, still staring at the blanket.
I wished I was able to blank out my past the same way. Unfortunately, I remembered everything.
When she raised her eyes, the mirth was gone, her normally animated face expressionless. “Do you lock up a lot of women in here, Tristan?”
I let her change the subject, knowing she needed time to process what I’d just told her. “No.”
“Men?”
“No.”
“Then why do you have a cage in your house?” She paused, looking around. “Thisisa house, right?”
“Yes. It’s where I live.”
“So, why the cell?”
Should I tell her? I hesitated. But then she met my eyes, and there was so much desperation in her gaze I found myself confessing. “It’s for me.”
She blinked in surprise. “For you?”
“Yes.”
“They lock you up in here? Why?”
I shook my head. “No one else is involved.”
Her brows furrowed, little lines forming on her forehead. “You lock yourself in here.”
I wanted to smooth them away and make her laugh again. “Yes.”
The lines grew deeper. “Why?”
My eyes traveled the perimeter of the cell, taking in the iron bars, the hard floor, and the thick blanket. “Because it’s safe in here.”
“Safe,” she repeated. “Who areyouhiding from?”
I couldn’t hold her gaze and looked away. I suddenly didn’t want her to know about this part of me and my life. It would make me appear weak to her. And I wasn’t fucking weak. Not when it came to Luna. I would protect her against her demons—and mine—if it came down to it.
“It just might help me to understand if you told me.” The words were spoken so softly they were nearly a whisper. “So, please, tell me.”
My stomach was in my throat. A giant lump I couldn’t speak past.
“Tristan…please.”
I closed my eyes. I couldn’t resist the plea in her voice. But I still couldn’t speak. If I showed her what had happened to me, what I was now, would she believe me to be a monster? Or a victim? Somehow, the second one was more abhorrent to me. I shook my head. No. I couldn’t show her.
She was quiet there in her spot in the corner. Waiting.
