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CHAPTER TWENTY
NOT FOR THE FIRST time, and definitely not for the last, did I count my lucky stars that I had Gem beside me during this transition.
Not once did she judge me for sleeping outside.
Not once did she question how I was or pry into thoughts I wasn’t ready to share.
She gave me space while also making me feel secure.
And for that, I loved her with every piece of my fractured soul. Our co
An elderly woman with a tight black bun and a younger man with a bald head nodded at Gem, their gazes slipping past her to me in her living room. “Hello, Ms. Ashford. Mr. Sands. We’re here to continue the questioning that was started at the hospital? It won’t take long.”
Gem shot me a look, gauging my ability to come across as sane.
I hoped I hid the violence coursing inside me, praying that my concussion wouldn’t make me say or do something that would ruin the fragile peace I’d found.
I’d hated being interrogated at the hospital—I’d felt judged even while reeking of a fire that’d almost killed us. A fire that Jareth started—a man no one else knew existed. A man still out there, doing what I should be doing...saving our family.
It’d been so fucking hard not having answers. For eleven years, I’d believed my family got free that night, but in reality, they’d been recaptured and been serving ever since.
Christ, I felt sick.
My head pounded.
Perhaps having the police turn up was justice I deserved for not trying to find Sarez, Nyx, and the rest sooner. Poetic justice for my lack of ability to protect, not only them, but Gemma, too.
You promised her you wouldn’t say anything about anything.
Just like she’d made me stay quiet in her video, she’d made me promise to stay quiet around the police. She’d taken on the role of fact-giving to the cops that night in the hospital, vaguely mentioning Storymaker and giving a very brief description of what Fables had been, but apart from that...most of what happened there would never be uttered—for my safety and my family’s.
“May we come in?” the female officer asked.
I stepped backward, fighting the urge to leap through the open door and vanish.
Gem noticed and came to my side. Taking my sweaty hand in hers, she nodded primly. “We were heading out, but we have a few moments to spare.” Waving at the couch, she smiled. “Please, sit down.”
Was that a lie, or had she genuinely been pla
Was I ready to go somewhere?
Fuck, the room wobbled a little as my headache grew worse.
The two uniforms stepped into Gemma’s home, wiped their shiny shoes on her doormat, and went to the couch. Gemma took the opposite chair while I stayed standing. Holding her shoulder, I shadowed her from behind.
My heart galloped. More sickness swarmed. Whiteness blanked over my vision for a heartbeat, threatening to steal this particular memory, linking it to other people in positions of power, stealing the life and liberties of a kid who hadn’t been able to fight back.
The vow of silence Gem had made me promise forbade me from talking about what I’d done to her and what’d happened to the bastards of my past. Both were to protect me. I knew that. But it didn’t mean I felt right about it.
A part of me craved punishment for what I’d done to Gemma. Historical conditioning ensuring that I needed discipline and chastisement. But the other part of me understood that I hadn’t been in control of myself back then. People wouldn’t comprehend what a struggle it’d been to shed off the skin I’d been wearing.
Gem gave me a quick look.
I nodded, reaffirming my promise that I wouldn’t say anything. I still hadn’t embraced my newfound freedom, but it didn’t mean I wanted to have it snatched away by being thrown in jail.
No fucking way.
Gemma’s heat seeped through my fingers, grounding me as my headache faded a little.
Last night, I’d had another nightmare.
Unlike the previous nights where I stayed where I slept, this time, I’d woken in a full sweat just outside her bedroom door. I couldn’t remember how I’d gotten there or what I would’ve done if I’d climbed into bed with her, but one thing was for sure, my mind was now co
Something had woken me before I went too far.
Something inside me fought to keep her safe.
So that was how I’d ended up sleeping outside.
I’d let fresh air blow away the sickening images in my head. It reminded me that I was far, far away from Fables, and this was a new start.
I was free.
And I’m going to stay free.
I glowered at the police as Gem asked politely, “What can we help you with, Officers?”
I clutched her shoulder, doing my best to stay calm. I didn’t know if the pills the doctor gave me were working, but by touching her, my heart rate slowed a little. I stood a little taller, embracing the fact that I was here with Gem, I was free, and I had every fucking right to be happy.
“My name is Brandon Miles, and this is my partner, Gail Pulman.” the young guy cop said, his fancy uniform worn with pride. “Mr. Sands, we understand from the previous interview that you were abducted and held in the house that was destroyed by the fire last week. You were imprisoned there for most of your childhood and teenage years, is that correct?”
Gem glanced at me over her shoulder, her eyes glowing with affection and care. Holding her stare, I nodded and cleared my throat. “That’s right.”
“And Kassen Sands isn’t your real name. But you don’t remember any other?”
“Yes.”
“We’ve had a team investigate what’s left of the house. The rubble has no forensics or obvious clues. In fact, what does remain doesn’t paint a comprehensive picture at all. There are no documents or other evidence that will lead us to the man you named Stuart Page, also known as....” He consulted his notes. “The Storymaker.”
That’s because I burned all the paperwork eleven years ago with the intention of keeping my family safe, only to forget everything I’d memorized thanks to a guy kicking me in the head.
Jareth was the one rescuing our family, but I was the one who’d condemned them to never finding their true homes, all because I’d destroyed any mention of their origins.
I bristled, stepping into the fib Gemma had convinced me to repeat. “I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”
“You don’t remember being trafficked? You don’t remember the faces of the people holding you? Overheard conversations of locations, names, or how they were ru
I stiffened and shook my head. “I’m sorry.”
The young cop gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me, but his partner referred to her own notes and asked, “The sex ring that you were a member of, you said that closed down over a decade ago?”
I ground my teeth.
I wasn’t a member of a sex ring. I was a slave. Fuck’s sake, there’s a difference.
Gem sucked in an angry breath.
I answered before she could defend me. “Yes,” I hissed. “It shut down eleven years ago.”
“And you said the ringleader just upped and left? That you don’t know what happened to the other men and women in power? Nor what happened to any of the guests who used to visit you?”
My nostrils flared as truth soured my tongue.
They’re exactly where they deserve to be.
Rotting in hell.
Gemma put her hand over mine, squeezing gently, prompting me to force a grimace and answer, “I don’t.” I swallowed hard. Fuck, it was hard not to tell them everything. Not to give them explicit details of those bastards. Every birthmark, every fetish, every sick, twisted, and depraved piece of them. I wanted the families of the guests to be named and shamed. I wanted to speak out so my loved ones could be vindicated and found.
I didn’t want anyone else to go through what we had.
I wanted men and women like the Fables members to be yanked from their homes, molested, tortured, and hung in a public setting.
But...I had to swallow every sour truth down because Gem was right. I had been fully within my right to kill those motherfuckers—I would do it all over again if I could—but the law would never see it that way.
And I would not go to prison for them.
Ever.
“And why did you stay after they left? What was the purpose of living all alone?”
I tried to keep my voice level. “After what they’d done to me, I had no trust toward my own kind. I felt safest alone...in a place that I knew.”
Not an exact lie. Not the truth either.
The cops made a note. The woman looked up first. “An open investigation is ongoing. We’ll continue combing the valley for answers and will schedule more interviews with you as and when we find more evidence. For now, though, we have passed your file onto the proper departments to ensure you’ll be given the documentation you need to begin a new life. We’re also pursuing leads and going through missing children reports from when you were taken to see if we can reunite you with the family you were stolen from.”
Gemma interrupted. “And if he was a foster kid?”
“There should still be mention of him going missing.”
“But if he was placed into the foster system, then why would his biological family care if he’s alive and well?”
“He might’ve been adopted. He might’ve been loved.”
Gemma looked at me over her shoulder. “He is loved. He has a family.” She glowered at the cops. “I’m his family.”
The female officer nodded. “I meant no disrespect.”
“It’s fine,” I said quietly, my mind locked on what she said previously. They were combing over the valley? Would they have cadaver dogs? Diggers? How soon before they found the graveyard?
“Ms. Ashford?” the policewoman focused on Gem. “You said you were stuck in the valley for a while due to a climbing expedition? Our officers found your car. The battery does indeed seem to be dead, but we can arrange to have it hauled if you have your keys handy.”
Gem flicked me a look before shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, but I lost my keys.”
“Spare set?”
She shook her head again. “I always meant to get another key cut when I bought it secondhand but never got around to it.”
“Ah, well, that’s going to be tricky.” The bald guy smiled. “But if we can be of any assistance in that area, please just let us know.”