Devlin UnLeashed(44)

“What did you find?”

“You’ll want to see this.” He pulled me around the table he was using for a desk, tapped a password into his laptop, and then clicked open a file.

A gallery of pictures of me, ranging from age eighteen to very recently filled the screen.

“What is this?”

“This was on Devlin’s computer.” He flipped through dozens on pictures of me.

“But why would he have me followed?”

“There’s more.” My stomach tightened as a dreaded, sick feeling set in. Nicholas’s fingers moved rapidly over the keys, then an old picture popped onto the screen.

The image startled me, and it took only a few seconds for recognition to hit. A younger Devlin standing next to the man my dad and countless investigators spent years searching for.

“How is Devlin connected to that man?” I pointed at him as though he were actually in the room.

Nicholas cocked an eyebrow because there was only one possibility.

“This doesn’t mean…”

“Yes, it does, Juliana. Don’t let your heart make excuses when your brain knows he’s the second man we’ve been looking for.”

“He can’t be.” I was still trying to concoct a reasonable excuse for it all.

“Devlin Ward is Damien’s son.” His declaration was a heavy hit that physically threw me back a few steps. I shook my head repeatedly, my breaths coming out in short, straining puffs.

“Juliana—”

“No!” I held a hand up as Nicholas tried to approach me.

“Don’t you see? He stalked you for years, watching and waiting for an opportunity to slip in and take advantage of you.”

“Shut up, shut up. Just shut… up.” I choked on a broken sob, still actively fighting my tears that spilled regardless.

“I’m sorry… but he’s not who you thought he was. I think you know he’s more vicious than he’s been putting on.”

I lost the battle. One tear rolled down my face, opening the pathway for many more.

“He loves me.” It’s what I needed to hear even if my own voice wasn’t convincing.

“No, he doesn’t. He’s a psychopath, who’s obsessed with you.”

My knees buckled. Nicholas grabbed me before I hit the floor. I tried shoving him away—angry that he’d uncovered this. Wishing I could call him a liar, but knowing he wouldn’t lie about something so devastating.

“Don’t you see? He’s the same man who ruined your life. The same man who ruined us.”

I shook my head, but it was more of an astonished reflex at this point. He cupped my face in his hands and stopped my involuntary denial. “It’s him, Juliana. It’s him. He’s the man who broke you.”

He looked away, the anger apparent in his tightened jawline. When he brought his attention back to me, he swallowed air, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The regret in his eyes killed me. We’d both spent many years taking turns assuming the blame for what had happened.

“I’m sorry, Juliana, but Devlin’s the man who raped you.” A muscle in his jaw clenched. My fingers dug into his arms as I finally accepted the ugliness of it all. I nodded, lips pursed as uncontrollable sobs wracked through me. And just like years ago, Nicholas held me, would try to heal me, but we both knew it was an impossible task.

I sobbed in Nicholas’s arms for all the years I’d tried to be strong and held back the pain. The pain for the relationship we might’ve had before an argument left me stranded and vulnerable to be kidnapped by a man who had a grudge against my dad. Mostly, for the man I fell in love with but hated more than I had words to express.





Part Two

Our Twisted Past





Chapter Twenty-Seven

Devlin

Six Years Before

I grew up running against the wind. Spent so much time being pushed back—shoved into a world I hated, I’d learned to live with the hand I was dealt and to become what it wanted before it eliminated me.

My father was a sociopath. Most times, I believed it was as much of a hereditary trait as the schizophrenia. The warmth of emotions and real passion had long since disappeared, evaporating decades ago with the colorful shades of my mother’s spirit.

I’d grown tired of trying to be me while trying to be who my dad expected of me. I was lost under the surface of my skin, battling so hard between good and evil that I’d become numb. At times, the coldness inside me would warm from a spark ignited unexpectedly, but it felt foreign. So much so, I pushed it away and locked it up.

It wasn’t as if I could say I remembered my dad being good. He’d always been an evil bastard, but once he started losing his mind, he became much more dangerous.