Twisted Together (Monsters in the Dark #3)(179)

I opened my mouth to explain. How to explain? I’d told him what I’d done—what they made me do. But having the evidence standing as judgement was too much.

“I had to see her. I had to tell her,” Blonde Angel sniffed, uncaring tears tracked down her face.

I sucked in a fearful breath. My limbs quaked. “I’m—I’m—” I’m so damn sorry. So eternally, endlessly sorry. I’ll never ever forgive myself.

She shook her head, a smile breaking through her sorrow. “I had to tell you—I…” A fresh spillage of tears ruined her strength. Swallowing hard, she managed, “It wasn’t your fault. All that time, I knew you cared. You accepted more pain to stop us from receiving, but in the end nothing you did could’ve stopped it.”

She reached for me again, burying her face in my shoulder.

Something snapped inside. The grief I thought I’d dealt with gushed forth, purging the remaining darkness in my soul.

“I’m so sorry,” I sobbed, clutching her, drowning in tears.

Q stiffened but never let go of my waist. I stood hugged by two people. My past and future. Anchored by my love, drifting on a sea of pain.

The world ceased to exist as I found closure in the arms of my victim. The arms of the woman who I’d watched be raped and traumatised.

Q’s hand shifted to my lower back, linking me to the present where I was good. Where I’d repaid my sins by saving others. He gave me silent support while I came undone on the steps of the Paris town hall.

Slowly, my grief ebbed. Blonde Angel smiled, her face blotchy and red. I knew my reflection would match completely.

A smile graced her lips, a weight lifting off her shoulders, evaporating into the sunny sky. “Thank you.”

I shook my head. “Thank you. For being strong enough to forgive me.”

She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “We were both their victims. We knew that. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Tess—is everything okay?” Q murmured, rubbing my spine. His eyes never stopped glaring at Blonde Angel. He stood as my guard, soothing my soul.

I smiled softly. “I’m better. Now.” Turning to Blonde Angel, I asked, “What’s your name?”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s Sophie. And I’m guessing yours is Tess?” Her eyes flickered to Q, growing wide with awe. “I remember you. I remember you coming into our cell and some guards taking us away. I remember your home.”

My eyes snapped to Q. “She stayed at our house and I never knew?”

He clenched his jaw. “I didn’t want you to see any girls from Rio, Tess. For this exact f*cking reason.” His gaze softened. “I’m very glad you’re happy now, Sophie, but can you please let go of my wife?”

Sophie laughed, rubbing the saltiness from her cheeks. “Sorry.” Letting go, she added, “Sorry for jumping on you. I just—when I saw you—I had to—”

I captured her hand. “I’m so glad you did. I’ll never be able to thank you.”

I would never be able to articulate the freedom inside—the freedom I didn’t even know I needed.

The prime minster cleared his throat. His eyes bounced from me to the woman hemmed in between Q and Franco. “Um, miss. Are you saying you had direct contact with Mrs. Mercer when she was taken in the reported second incident?”

Oh, no. My heart picked up. I couldn’t have my crimes told. I wouldn’t be able to advocate Feathers of Hope if people knew what I’d done in that awful place. “No—she—”

Q growled low and threatening. “Leave her out of this. She came to see my wife. Nothing more.”

Sophie flashed me a smile, before facing the prime minster. “I respect Mr. Mercer, but yes. I knew this woman before I was rescued by him. I know what she went through, and I know how intrinsically good she is.”

My heart fell out of my chest. I was full of deceit. I hadn’t been good then. I’d been drugged out of my mind—their little puppet.

“Shoot her, puta. Or we’ll cut off her fingers.”

Why didn’t I shoot Leather Jacket? Why did I have to obey?

Prime minster nodded, his eyes glinting. “Would you be so kind to say a few words to the crowd, on behalf of the charities Mr. and Mrs. Mercer run?”

“Quoi!” What? “No. Definitely not,” Q snapped. “Leave her—”

“I’d love to,” Sophie said, almost giving Q a heart attack.

Sophie gave me another smile and I knew I had to trust her. Whatever she said would be the truth—I couldn’t control how people perceived it. There was no arguing with what I’d done.

Laying a hand on Q’s trembling forearm, I swallowed my fear. “Let her, Q. Let her speak.”

Q’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring with anger.

“Very good.” The prime minster handed Sophie a wireless microphone, guiding her to stand in front of us. “You may begin when you’re ready.”

The crowd hushed from bedlam to whispers. Their energy was infectious. My legs itched to run. I didn’t want to be here—not when people learned the truth.

Sophie looked behind, holding out her hand.

What? No. I can’t!

I squirmed backward, pressing against Q, seeking his protection like a wimp.