Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(59)

The words dangled on my tongue, clinging with little claws to stay unsaid. I swayed between delivering them and swallowing them back.

For three years, Dad did everything he could to stop me from looking for Nameless (after he’d been cooperative at the start). When my hunt for him started to interfere with my work, Dad swiftly put a stop to it.

This time, I wouldn’t give him any more reason to block my helping Penn.

Dad had an obsessive desire to keep Belle Elle and me away from less than satisfactory circumstances—including people.

Only, he didn’t understand that no one was perfect. He wasn’t. I wasn’t. The world wasn’t. Penn was no different, and he deserved every chance to prove he was more than just a liar and reveal the truth.

He’s special.

To me. To my life. To my future.

I wouldn’t jeopardize that for anyone.

Including my father.

“He’s what?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Finish that sentence.”

“He’s on his own, Dad. Sure, he has Larry fighting for him, but I want to be there, too. I’m sorry if it upsets you, but I’m not going to stop.”

He slid off my desk, crossing his arms. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be there for him, Elle. I’m not trying to be cruel by cutting him off from emotional support. But sometimes, other things take paramount. I’m thinking of the company. It’s not good PR.”

“Well, we’ll hire a team to reinvent our image after it’s over.”

“Over?”

I nodded. “Yes, Penn will be given a court date soon, and we can finally get the truth out. Then he’ll be released, and it will be over.”

“How long do you think that will take?”

I shrugged. “It depends on the justice system.”

I sounded so much more knowledgeable than I was.

The way he gnawed his bottom lip gave me an idea. “You know...you could help speed this process along, if you wanted.”

“I can? How?” He narrowed his eyes warily.

“By calling your judge friend. Put in a good word. Get a court date, sooner rather than later, so we can all move on with our lives.”

“You want me to tamper with courts and trials now, Elle?” He looked at the ceiling. “What’s become of you?”

“The need to fix everything I did wrong.”

His look was quizzical, but he didn’t ask for a structured explanation of my cryptic reply.

Instead, he kissed the top of my head. “Oh, very well. If it means this will all blow over faster, I’ll see what I can do.”





Chapter Twenty-Six


Penn


THE AMBUSH HAPPENED four days later in the recreational yard.

Three men stopped me mid-jog.

After doing my best to come up with a counter attack, I gave up. I had no weapons, no friends to back me up.

I was on my own. And unless I wanted to die in retaliation, I had to let it happen.

So I did.

No matter how much it fucked me off.

Their fists gave me an unwanted ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ rough up. Their feet delivered a well-heard ‘this is our turf, so don’t get any fucking ideas’ kick. Their growls told me exactly how to toe the line and behave.

They seemed to know where a dead zone existed in the security cameras on the jogging track. They didn’t hesitate to gift a beating that activated old injuries, memories, and wounds from my past.

The punch-up only lasted a few seconds, but they knew how to deliver pain.

And I knew how to listen to their message.

I let them get in a few good strikes then exploded and delivered a few myself. I’d let them put me in my place because it meant I wouldn’t be harassed further. But I wouldn’t be a fucking pussy because that was just the start of a worse war.

The tightrope to walk was so damn narrow, but I’d walked it before. I could walk it now.

They were the shit in here. Not me. They thought they’d disciplined me. They hadn’t. Everyone went away slightly happier and settled.

Even if I limped rather than stalked and their punches activated old injuries from Greg’s morning wake-up call the day he took Elle.

I gave up running for the rest of the afternoon and sat on the bleachers tending to a busted lip and bloody nose.

No one commented on my state, and I nodded curtly at the assholes who’d given me the lesson when they walked back to their cells after the bell rang.

Just like school had bullies, prison had thugs. It was all a chessboard in the end. No one was king for long. And no one stayed a rook forever. We were all jumping over each other trying to win the queen.

Trudging back to my cell, I spat out a glob of blood. I’d never been soft or na?ve in my life—I couldn’t after seeing death and never having a home—but the awful fact was, I had begun to relax a little. I’d relaxed knowing Larry had my back, and Elle was mine after so many mistakes.

I’d relished in playing games with her because it soothed some of the pain. I’d become the bully, and with my belly bruised and face forming a nice black eye, I was reminded how much it fucking sucked to be the victim.

Yet here I was, held in remand with no way out on an attempted murder charge, buried up to my balls in shit.

At least, now I was in jail, Arnold wouldn’t be able to fuck up my life as bad. Unless he was in the habit of bribing the warden or commissioner of corrections, I was out of his control.