Sempre: Redemption (Forever Series #2)(107)

“Not really. I mean, it’s bigger than the horse stall I grew up in.”

Touché.

“So was there something you wanted to talk about?” she asked, nervously sitting in a chair in the living room. “Why are you here?”

Vincent strolled over, taking a seat in the center of her couch. “I was actually hoping you would tell me about your kidnapping.”

As if by some miracle, Haven managed to turn even paler. “My kidnapping?”

“Yes,” he replied. “You don’t have to, of course, but I just wondered if you could tell me who you remembered seeing there.”

She hesitated, her forehead scrunching up in concentration. “You already know. I mean, they were there when . . . well, when you came for me.”

“Yes, I know, but I’d like to hear it from you,” he said. “I’d like to know what you remember.”

She let out a deep sigh as her gaze drifted to her hands in her lap. He could tell she didn’t want to talk about it and nearly felt ashamed for bringing it up to her, but it was important he heard it from her. Very important. “Nunzio was there. That guy Ivan was in charge. There were some other men, but I don’t know their names. Mostly Russians. And the girls . . . the nurse showed up, and then there was the other one.”

“What other one?”

Haven hesitated. “I don’t remember her name.”

“Okay,” Vincent said. “And that’s it?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“You guess?” Vincent rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward to look at her pointedly. “Who else was there?”

“Just people who don’t exist anymore,” she whispered. “If they ever did.”

Vincent quietly processed that, the meaning sinking in as he thought back to the images he had seen in Haven’s notebook. The memory stung. “Maura.”

“Yes,” Haven whispered. “And my mama. And Number 33.”

His eyes met hers, curiosity brewing inside of him. “Number 33?”

“A girl I saw at one of those places . . . she was for sale. She was number 33.”

Vincent frowned when it struck him what she meant. “An auction?”

“Yes. Frankie took me as a kid.”

Sickness stirred Vincent’s stomach. He never knew. “Why?”

“He said it was to teach me a lesson,” she replied. “The girl tried to escape, so well . . . Frankie killed her. He said it was what happened when people like me forget their place. It’s why, when you said you were going to remind me of my place that day, I thought . . .”

Vincent closed his eyes when she trailed off. He could still remember the look on her face when she came around that afternoon, waking up handcuffed to the post of her bed. “Please,” she had whispered. “I don’t want to die.”

Before Vincent could come up with words, Haven spoke again. “I know they weren’t really there, but I saw them in the warehouse. They talked to me. They gave me the strength to hold on.”

“Was there anyone else?” Vincent asked. “Maybe someone less desirable, like a . . . monster?”

Haven remained still, staring at him, before softly whispering, “Carlo.”

Vincent was stunned. “You know his name.”

“I heard Frankie say it the day of the auction,” she replied. “He wanted my master to sell me to him. Terrified me. I thought he’d do it.”

“Thank God he didn’t.”

“Yeah, but he still taunted me over the years. I’d see him when he came to Blackburn. He’d stand there and stare at me. Just stare. He always hurt my mama. He always . . .” She paused, angry tears glistening from her eyes. “He did things to her, but never me. He just watched me all the time, like he was waiting for when the time was right.”

“And you saw him when you were in the warehouse?”

She nodded, wiping her eyes as a tear fell down her cheek. “I imagined him, I guess. Standing over me, just staring as usual, like the time still wasn’t right. He looked older, but it was definitely him. I’d never forget that face.”

Haven let out a bitter laugh while Vincent remained stoic. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but something about her words made him wonder if she hadn’t imagined it at all.

“Thank you,” Vincent said. “I just needed to hear you confirm it.”

“You’re welcome.” Haven eyed him peculiarly. “Are you sure you’re okay, Dr. DeMarco? Won’t the people who monitor you track me here now?”

“I don’t have my ankle monitor on anymore.”

Her eyes widened. “Is your trial over?”

He stared at her, realizing at that moment how cut off she was from everything. He had been following her for weeks, gathering the courage to approach her, unsure how she would react to a wanted man showing up at her doorstep . . . a man most people suspected to be dead. But she didn’t even know. She knew nothing.

Standing, Vincent stretched his aching back. “It’s not over yet, but it will be soon. Nothing to worry about.”

“Okay.”

“Anyway, I should be going. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Haven walked him to the door, the two of them silently hesitating in the foyer. There was so much Vincent still felt he needed to say, the words stuck on the tip of his tongue. He nearly managed to force them out, overpowering his lingering pride and overabundance of shame, when the front door to the brownstone thrust open behind them. A female’s laughter carried through the downstairs.