“You don’t understand.” I hated that there was a slight stutter in my voice. It was because of the panic. The fear. “I can get in a lot of trouble.”
He rested his hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze. “You’re my Fawn. What did I tell you before? I’ll always protect you. You never have to worry about anyone hurting you now.”
As much as I knew Enzo’s protection carried a lot of weight, it didn’t make me feel completely safe.
My body shook as I remembered that day in court.
Remembered the judge’s gavel banging before my father was hauled out of the courtroom, making final promises to me.
Enzo’s voice broke me out of my thoughts. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
“That’s not it,” I whispered.
His brows snapped together, his voice suddenly accusatory. “Who are you protecting?”
“You wouldn’t understand.” Tears built in my eyes.
“Trust me, I understand.” His voice lightened. “I understand fucked up. I’ve heard and seen things that’d give you nightmares for fucking weeks straight.” He chuckled. “You saw me pluck out a man’s eyeball, for fuck’s sake, Blair. Nothing you say will surprise me.”
I inhaled a deep breath.
Released it.
Did that again.
Again. And again.
Here I go.
I lowered my head, staring down at the blood on the sheets. “I grew up in a cult.”
He reached out, gripping my face, and his movements were gentle as he lifted it.
“What kind of cult?” he asked, not looking shocked.
“What do you mean?”
“The wordcultis often thrown around these days. My sister claims to be part of the Iced Coffee All Year-Round Cult.” There was a slight playful roll of his eyes. “There are cults that believe in aliens. Charles Manson cults. Religious cults.”
I kept my voice low. “Mine bordered on religion and were based on my father’s beliefs.” I only wished it were about iced coffee.
“What was the cult?”
“What?” I shook my head violently. “He didn’t name it.”
“Most cults have names.” He cocked his head to the side. “I’ve killed a few cult leaders. They’re usually losers who name their cult after them and use drugs to gain power over people.”
He didn’t know that drugs could only take cults so far.
The one that always stuck? That was religion.
Religion created so many cults. And it could be any religion. Sometimes even ones that the leaders had made up out of nowhere.
I swallowed down spit as he released my face. “You might have killed people in cults, but I lived in one. I’ve seen it from the inside. There’s no cult handbook, Enzo. There wasn’t a cutesy nickname. My father, the leader, didn’t have time for that. We were a Follower of Abraham. That was the main rule of our cult. When he’d ask who we were, we said Follower of Abraham.”
“Your father was the leader?”
I slowly nodded as more memories surged through my head.
