The images of my mother breaking my wrist each time I used my left hand played in my mind like a distorted movie. That dull ache in my left wrist throbbed. Don’t break, my mind chanted on repeat. Don’t break. Don’t break.
“Can I make a recommendation?” Dr. Freud inserted herself.
“No,” I snapped.
“Go ahead.” Kingston really wasn’t earning any brownie points today.
“Hypnosis.”
“You’re not fucking with my mind.” I’d had enough of that shit to last me a lifetime.
She ignored me. “It’s just to unlock the barriers.”
“What fucking barriers are you talking about?” I glared at Kingston. “Why did you bring her here?”
He closed the distance between us and kneeled down. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I’d been self-reliant for so long, I didn’t know how to trust anyone.
“What does your instinct tell you?” Dr. Freud interrupted, chiming in when she really shouldn’t. Although, I had to admit it was a valid question.
“Sunshine, you have to do this.” Kingston was relentless. “You know these memory gaps aren’t normal. Hypnosis could help.”
I shuddered, my chest suddenly heavy. “I don’t want to be at her mercy.”
“I won’t let her or anyone else hurt you,” he vowed. “I’ll be here with you, every step of the way.”
My gaze darted to the beautiful woman who waited patiently for us to make a decision. She was a stranger, a potential threat. But Kingston seemed to trust her, which made me trust her too.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I hissed. “Because I’ll end you without flinching.”
The corner of her lips lifted. “Duly noted.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I exhaled, slowing my heart rate. Or attempting to. “Okay, now what?”
Kingston stood up from his kneeling position and came to stand next to me, like a protective cloud.
“You’re going to relax and listen to my voice. Concentrate on one memory you had with your sister.” Closing my eyes, I followed her instructions, last night’s dream fleeting to the forefront of my mind. “Tell me what you see.”
As if in a daze, my mind hazy, I narrated the dream. The bracelet of teeth that meant so much to me. Its calming effect when I was scared. “The bracelet,” I murmured. There was a rustle, but I was too deep in this changed state of awareness to care.
“Who gave you the bracelet?” Dr. Freud asked.
“Kingston, my ghost.” My brows knitted in confusion. He gave it to me last night. But I had it in my dream when I hid with my sister.
“Don’t think,” the doctor said softly. “Reasons and logic don’t matter right now. Just follow that train of thought.” I focused on the noises around me. Birds chirping. Waves washing against the shoreline. The rustle of the breeze in the trees. “Focus on your breathing.”
With each breath, I felt myself relaxing. Time slowed.
In a sleep-like yet hyper-aware state, images started flashing through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. So many. So confusing. My heart raced in my chest, yet my breathing never sped up.
My eyes shot open. I stared at my wrist, almost expecting my mother to appear out of thin air and snatch the bracelet. The familiar crunching of bones would follow, accompanied by that immediate pain. I slapped a hand over my mouth as a flashback hit me with deadly force.
A light tapping woke me up and I jolted. I blinked several times, erasing sleep from my eyes when I saw him sitting in the corner by the window. Silver moonlight threw shadows across his face, and a heavy tension settled in the space between us.
Something was wrong. Kingston never snuck into my room at night. He always said it was too risky.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered, glancing around the empty room before returning to watch him sitting in the chair like a king. He always reminded me of a king—strong, protective, and deadly—despite being my mother’s prisoner.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” The vehemence in his tone sent a chilling alert through me. Glancing at the clock, three a.m. stared back at me in red. “You were right.” Confusion flickered through me, sleep still tugging heavily on my brain. “We have to run.”
I swung my legs off the side of the bed, then padded barefoot toward him, wedging myself between his knees.
“Okay.” I took his clenched fingers in my hands and smoothed them out. “Then we run.”
His eyes dulled, but it didn’t hide the fear that permeated from them. “It won’t be safe for you.”
I’d seen Kingston kill. I knew he’d keep me safe. Nobody and nothing ever made me feel as protected as he did.
“Anywhere with you is better than here without you, Kingston.” This place was hell for him. I swallowed, my heart trembling within my chest. “Can we bring my sister along?” Trepidation flickered to life in my chest. “I… I can’t leave her behind.”
“Are you sure she even wants to leave?”
A heaviness tugged at my chest. Lately my twin had become harder somehow. She was distant, shutting me out constantly. Mother liked it; I didn’t. But she was my sister, a part of me, and I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.
“She wants to leave,” I said with a certainty I didn’t feel. With my free hand, I traced my finger along his lips, down his chin until I reached the smeared red lipstick that stared back at me. I inhaled a shuddering breath, unable to bury my head in the sand. “I’ll kill her for you one day, Kingston.”
He shook his head.
“No, sunshine. I’ll kill her.” He lifted our interlocked fingers and kissed my knuckles one by one. “I want your hands clean.”
Our eyes locked, and he stroked my cheek.
“Tomorrow night, we run and never look back,” I whispered, and for once, my hopes and dreams felt like physical things I could hold in my hands.
“Tomorrow night, we run.”
I was thrust back to the present, my limbs trembling as I slumped over before Kingston caught me. My breath lodged in my throat as I stared up at him. It wasn’t possible, was it? I was Liana. Right? I gripped my head with both hands, curling my fingers into my hair. My panicked eyes sought out Kingston like he was a lifeline.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, sunshine,” he swore, his voice gravelly but deep and warm. “I never wanted to hurt you like this.” Emboldened by his words, I raised my chin and we locked eyes. “I’ve never stopped loving you. There hasn’t been another woman. You’re it for me, Louisa. My beginning. My middle. My end.”
There was nothing but sincerity and devotion in his expression and his voice. Was everything I thought I knew a lie? A faux reality? What should I believe?
My heart. My instincts.
For the past eight years, I’d lived with things I couldn’t explain. Dreams and gaps in memories. Maybe those were fragments of my old self; my subconsciousness holding on to myself. And then it occurred to me… It was always there—in my sketches, in my heart, and in my dreams.
“I remember,” I whispered, tears racing down my cheeks. And then the anger hit.
My name was Louisa Volkov, and I intended to murder my mother for what she’d done to me. What she’d done to all of us.
Chapter 53Louisa, 18 Years Old
Staying here would destroy us. We had to get out of here—all three of us.
“Are you sure?” Liana said. “If Mother’s men catch you two—”
I knew what she meant, but we couldn’t stay. Not if the man I loved was a prisoner. We weren’t much better. Yes, we were spared rape and beatings—for the most part—but we wouldn’t be for long. The Tijuana cartel had been in negotiations with Ivan to arrange a marriage with one of us—the prized mafia princesses.