Page 39 of Serpent & Saviors

I didn’t let her go any further. “Don’t do that,” I said, sharper than I intended. “Sorry.” I took a breath and started again, keeping my voice more level. “I want to encourage you to trust your instincts. You already said you knew it was wrong. And you’re dead right. It was wrong then, and if he is doing things today that make you uncomfortable or afraid, that too is wrong.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, gulping.

“When did it change, angel?”

“The summer after my mother died. I tried to make sure that I was never alone with Cameron. But one day, no one was home. He…he came into my bathroom. I was almost eighteen. He didn’t want to wait anymore.”

Tears coursed down her cheeks, and in her eyes was a look of absolute guilt.

“I didn’t want to…but I didn’t fight him. I let him. I didn’t want it…I swear.”

Her voice cracked around the words, and she shrank in on herself, confusion and fear flickering across her face as she tried to disappear into the shame. My cheek twitched. I clenched my jaw so hard it ached, a pulse of fury erupting in my chest.

She buried her face in her hands. I moved instantly, sliding in beside her, wrapping an arm around her trembling frame, and guiding her gently against my chest. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other smoothed circles along her spine. She melted into the contact.

“Angel, shhh. It’s okay. You don’t have to explain it in detail. We believe you. I believe you.” My voice stayed steady because she needed that more than anything.

Her breath hitched, catching in her throat.

“Let’s refocus for a minute, yeah? Give you a second to breathe.” I waited until her lashes fluttered and she nodded faintly, still pressed to me. “Why don’t you tell us more about Declan? Simple things like what his daily schedule looks like?”

She blinked slowly, grounding herself in the sound of his name. Her body relaxed as she drew in a breath, one shaky inhale, then another, until she was steadier. Her hand reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes, her voice small but clearer.

“Declan has a nanny. Her name is Jenny. She’s the only person on staff who will help. Everyone else is loyal to Cameron. He has school and practice. Cameron typically takes him to practice and Jenny to school most days. He has cameras in and around the house.”

“Jenny takes him most days?” I asked.

“I used to take him on Tuesdays, but recently that was taken away from me, too.” Her voice wavered, and I heard the pain behind the words. “The real issue is, I’m never left alone with Declan.”

“Excuse me?” Pasha asked, sounding as dumbfounded as I felt.

He shot me a questioning look.

“Cameron uses it, among other things, to keep me in line. Not that I go against him ever. And while it’s a pretty big obstacle—what I fear the most is the image he’s created of me.”

“Go on,” I encouraged.

“I have something similar to your alter ego,” she said, directing the next part of her answer to Pasha.

Her voice grew even softer, to where Pasha had to lean forward to hear her at all. The fear she was experiencing caused her slight frame to shudder. Darting her eyes around nervously, she gulped.

“Breathe, angel. It’s okay.”

“Cameron has spent the last five years fabricating a story that would have everyone agreeing I’m an unfit mother. Legally, I’ll lose if I try to take him to court. He forced me into situations…made me do things I don’t even want to speak of.”

My jaw clenched, and a burst of rage flared inside me. Every word she said just dug a deeper grave for the man. His days were fucking numbered.

“He has proof,” she whispered, her voice shaking under the emotion. “From medical professionals, colleagues…even our staff. And vi-videos.” Her hand trembled as she covered her mouth. “But it’s all a lie. I’m not unfit. All I’ve ever wanted…” her voice cracked, “was to be a good mother to Declan.”

The confession hung heavy in the room, and then—she broke. Sobs tore through her chest, raw and unrestrained, filling the space with a sound too painful to bear. She drew in, shoulders shaking violently as the years of silence, gaslighting, and loss rushed to the surface.

Pasha stiffened, clearly unsure if he should move. His hands hovered for a second, then dropped to his sides. I didn’t hesitate to gather her into my arms, holding her tightly as she shattered.

Once she calmed, she shifted back and then spoke again, “My greatest fear is that it’s too late.”

Her hands twisted in her lap, fingers pulling at each other as though trying to unmake the truth she was about to speak. “Declan already thinks I don’t love him.”

The words left her lips, shattering her confidence. It physically hurt to see her dejection. I swallowed hard, a slow, sick heat building in my chest.