35
The moment Damian whispered the name “Rhea,” it was like a dam breaking in my mind. Something shatter ed its restraints, and the beautiful castle of my memories collapsed into dust.
Damian held my gaze, his eyes never leaving mine as he spoke, slowly and clearly, telling me a new story that upended my entire reality.
“You were trafficked out of the country as a child,” he began. “You escaped, and you were starving when you stopped my car on a snowy night. And I took you home.”
“When you were twelve, Logan was in the country on a summer program.”
“That same year, my stepmother had me drugged, beaten, and sold onto a smuggling ship. That’s where met Logan–a kid who had been tricked aboard.”
“You were so clever then.” Damian gently stroked my hair. “You followed them alone and you rescued me.”
He looked at me, repeating with emphasis, “You saved me, Rhea. You didn’t save Logan.”
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Chapter 2
“I think now,” he mused, “that’s when the story began to veer off course.”
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Damian’s words painted a vivid, tangible picture in my mind. Following his voice, I began to remember. I remembered the young, serious Damian. I remembered him lying on the deck of that ship, broken and dying I remembered hiding with him, on the run from his stepmother’s men.
But as I searched my memories, I found no trace of Logan. I had never even noticed him.
