I turn the dial until the water practically burns me, scorching my skin and turning it red. I don’t know how long I just stand there, soaking in the moment, relishing the small privilege of a warm, private shower, before I finally grab the small hotel-like bottle of shower gel and scrub my skin raw. I do the same with my hair, emptying both bottles. I still don’t feel completely clean by the time I turn the water off and step out, but then I’m not entirely sure I ever will.
Exhaustion hits me like a freight train, and I quickly dry and throw on the sweatpants, top, and hoodie, noting that each item belongs to one of my guys. Burying my nose in the neckline of the hoodie, I breathe in Beck’s cedarwood and eucalyptus scent, letting it wash over me and soak into my skin, soothing me in a way that only Beck can.
Rifling through the bag, I find my toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as a hair tie, and I smile gratefully, knowing West will have been the one to remember to pack them. Once I’ve brushed my teeth, and scraped my hair back into a messy bun, I straighten my spine, and with a determination I don’t feel, I pull open the door.
Barton has since taken one of the empty chairs beside the bed, while Hawk continues to stand over him, glowering. Both of them look my way as I step into the room and shuffle back toward the bed. My muscles feel looser after the warm shower, but my left thigh, where Bowen—that son of a bitch—drove his knife into it, tugs every time I put my weight on it.
Seeing me struggle, Barton jumps to his feet to come to my aid, but Hawk shoves him back in his chair with a growl before stepping toward me, intent on helping. I wave him away though, needing to achieve this small thing on my own.
Once I’m settled in the bed again, I look between the both of them before my gaze lands on Barton.
“Did you know?” There’s no point in pretending anymore. Lawrence is dead, and all I want now are answers. “Did you know where I was all these years?”
Barton’s brows draw together in confusion, and I have to give him some credit as he never breaks eye contact. “What? No. I had no idea where you were until Hawk showed up with you that night.”
I can feel tears gathering behind my eyes. The last few weeks have worn me down and robbed me of the energy to keep my normal defense mechanisms erected around me.
“Why did you never look for me? I was your daughter.” My voice breaks and I swallow back the emotion in my throat as I shake my head. “How could you just move on like that?”
With a pained expression on his face, Barton leans forward, as if to touch me, but I flinch away, shuffling to the far side of the bed as Hawk’s arm snaps out, blocking Barton from coming anywhere near me.
“Don’t touch her,” he snarls, moving to sit beside me on the bed, acting as a barrier between Barton and I.
Barton’s eyes widen and his lips thin, but he slowly sits back in his chair. Keeping his focus on me, he says, “I did search for you. I hired a private investigator and everything. All of his leads were dead ends. Eventually, he told me there was no point in continuing to look for you. I didn’t want to believe him, but ultimately, I had to accept that I’d lost you.” He looks pained as he adds on, “I had to focus on the family I still had.”
Unable to stand looking at him, I drop my head so he doesn’t see the tears threatening to overflow.
“That was it? You just gave up?” Hawk’s words are a harsh snap, and I can feel the anger radiating off him, the heat searing my skin. I lean into the warmth, reassured to know that my explosive volcano of a brother will always have my back. There’s something to be said about knowing someone will always be in your corner, fighting for you. It empowers your own strength and makes you feel capable of pretty much anything. Even now, when I’m at my weakest, Hawk’s fierce need to protect me washes over me like a balm to my wounded soul, piecing me back together. Perhaps, with his help, I’ll come back stronger than ever. “And now you're claiming ignorance of all of it? I still don’t believe you didn’t just sell her off to be Lawrence’s little plaything.”
Barton looks completely confused as his gaze jumps between Hawk and I.
“What are you talking about? What does Lawrence have to do with any of this?”
“Lawrence is the one who’s been hiding her all these years. He kept her locked up in that fucking compound you call a business. Had her tortured and threatened. He kept her fucking terrified, every day of her life.”
The words explode out of Hawk, his voice rising with each syllable until his chest is heaving and he’s glaring murderously at our father, uncaring of how the color has leached from Barton’s face, or the way his lower lip trembles.
“You’re wrong.” Barton shakes his head, and I can see the wheels churning frantically behind his eyes. “There’s no way Lawrence is capable of something like that. We would have known if she was there. I would have known.”
“How?” My voice is monotonous, devoid of all emotion. “You only visited once or twice a year. And every time you did, I was locked away until you were gone. You and the others left the day-to-day running to Lawrence. He was the one in charge, the one that oversaw everything.” My own temper starts to flare, and I feel Hawk slide his palm into mine, squeezing my hand in encouragement. “Do you even know what goes on in there? What the guards do to form the inhuman soldiers you utilize for your own gain?”
If Barton looked pale after Hawk’s outburst, he looks like a fucking ghost now. His mouth opens and closes wordlessly as he struggles to process everything.
Leaning forward, I hiss, “They beat children, they rape them, they break them down using whatever means necessary, until they are nothing but a void, a shell that they can mold and rebuild into something heinous and destructive.
“I was tortured, beaten. I’ve had my skin torn open more times than I can count, and I’ve been starved for days. I’ve been so close to giving up, that I prayed for death.” Hawk’s hand squeezes mine, and I can feel the telltale wetness of tears coating my cheeks. “My best friend was beaten to death because she refused to kill another child. She was only thirteen. Thirteen years old, and she had her life ripped away from her. That is the company that you run. That is the hell that you abandoned me to.”
Barton looks like he’s about to be sick, but I have fuck all sympathy for him. He swipes his hand over his mouth, and I watch his eyes dart back and forth unseeingly as he tries to come to terms with what we are saying.
“That can’t be true,” he mumbles disbelievingly, staring at me like I’m a figment of his imagination come to torture him. I lean back and tug down the waistband of my sweats, exposing the tail of my phoenix tattoo, and more importantly, the symbol of the mercenary company—his company—hidden amongst the tail.
Both he and Hawk look at the exposed skin for a second until they see it, and Barton gasps.
“They branded you?” Hawk snarls venomously.
I shrug. Really, it’s the least intrusive thing they’ve done to me. “They do it to everyone.”