“So?” Mason barks. “She was seven.”
“Not everyone has a goldfish memory like you, prat,” Kane throws at Mason, then locks my gaze, as he tears down every ounce of my defense, the weapon in my hand no use against it. “In fact, I think she’s remembering a little too much. See, it made sense when Mason told me you recognized my father. I started paying careful attention to you. But I know a thing or two about childhood trauma, and as fucked-up as your brain is, I’m not convinced you fit the bill, princess.”
My breath hitches as Kane unravels me with his eyes, turning every page, filling the gaps. But I can’t let him know.
“The fuck is he talking about?” Hugo groans, half-bored.
“I don’t think it was her who was kidnapped,” Kane concludes, and I force a lump down my throat.
“We know it was.” Mason’s brows furrow. “You said so yourself, Elton paid her ransom.”
“He took twelve days,” Kane drawls. “Twelve fucking days. You know how long that is for a seven-year-old? At first, I thought the ancient patriarch didn’t care as much about her as much as her brother. Yet, when I told them she was with you that night, Elton had her airlifted within three hours.”
He holds up three fingers, which may as well be six, as my vision doubles.
I see Kane’s mouth move, but I can’t hear him anymore. The ringing in my ears floods my brain. And just like that, the walls of my mind begin to crumble, the metal in my hands growing heavier and heavier, as the world starts to slip away.
“Eva!” Mason’s voice commands me out of my trance.
My shoulders jerk, arm shakes, finger twitches.
Bang
A sharp, piercing sound splits the space between us, and the room chills, freezing time.
Kane drops to the floor, clutching his arm, pouring red.
“Fuck,” I shriek.
My hand quakes rapidly as something else snaps in my head, like a dam breaking inside my mind. Memories flood back in waves, every locked-away horror crashing into me all at once.
But I don’t even have a moment to absorb it because, in a microsecond, all hell breaks loose.
James and Hugo draw their weapons and aim them square at my chest. Or they would be if Mason hadn’t covered the distance in an instant and planted himself between us, hiding me entirely from them, not caring about the gun still shaking in my hand, pressed flat against his back.
Is he crazy? Did he not just see what I did? I don’t even know how to unload it.
“Shhh,” Mason whispers as fractured cries spill from my lips, while I cling to his back. “It will all be fine, little dove.”
How?
“Put those fucking down,” Mason barks at James and Hugo.
“She shot Kane, you moron,” Hugo yells. “Her brother has been gunning for us. She must be in on it, too. Open your eyes, will you?”
“It was an accident,” Mason snaps. “Now, put them down before I rip your arms out.”
“Take hers first,” James says, coolly, the only sensible voice in the room. “Then get her out of here. You can still catch the plane to Sicily.”
Sicily?
Fuck. I’m clinging to the man who won’t let me go. Worse, he’ll take me somewhere I will be at his mercy.
No. I can’t leave. Not now when I finally remember.
I have one choice. Only one course of action. And there is no time to think.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against Mason’s neck.
