Chapter 133: Chapter 133 

~ NYSSA

I went through page after page of documents with only a warm light above me for illumination.

A pit formed in my stomach and it grew deeper with each word I read. Each picture, each piece of evidence felt like a nail in a coffin that I did not even know existed.

My palms grew clammy, beads of sweat forming over my forehead as I roamed through evidence of my parent’s dealings. It did not seem real, it felt like a bad dream that I was about to wake from but no matter how many times I pinched myself, I did not wake. I remained stuck in the endless nightmare.

Bile crawled up my throat as I got to their death records. The details of their injuries had tears running down my face. I pictured it clearly, ever broken bone, every burn, every cut. I knew what Rowan was capable of, but knowing and seeing it were two completely different things.

I slammed the document shut, unable to take any more.

My stomach churned, skin crawled with distaste and terror as I dragged myself to my feet, running out the door before I could throw up all over the table.

Fresh air hit my face and yet, it was not enough. Heat rushed through my body as the tears I fought to keep at bay came rushing out, streaming down my face. My vision blurred but I kept running, not knowing where I was going but knowing that I needed space.

I ran past guards and maids with curious gazes and headed straight for the front doors. I burst into the courtyard, letting my legs lead me until I was standing in the middle of a beautiful flower garden.

Even at night, it looked spectacular. The moon shone directly over the fountain, casting it in a shimmering glow. I braced my hands against the stone, letting the sobs wrack through me.

I was not sure how long I stood there sobbing when I felt the air shift. A cool breeze wafted over to me, dragging along with it a very familiar male scent.

My spine went rigid.

“How long have you been standing there?” I asked quietly, not bothering to turn around.

“Not long,” Rowan answered, voice low and even. “I asked the attendants to tell me once you left the library. I heard you came running for the courtyard and I followed.”

“Why?”

He took a slow step forward. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

I scoffed, a distasteful laugh escaping me. “What do you care? My well-being does not matter to you.”

“You know that’s not true.”

I turned slowly, eyes locking on my mate who stood a few feet away from me, hands shoved into his pockets. I stared at the scars that littered his arms and torso, and the soft, concerned look in his eyes. I could not reconcile the man in front of me to the man who had done the things I read about… the same man who tortured Henry.

“Are they the only people you have tortured?”

He did not miss a beat as he answered. “No.”

“Are they the worst?”

“No.” he took another slow step towards me. “You know what I am, Nyssa. I have never claimed to be a good man.”

I scoffed. “I know that.”

“I understand that this might be confusing for you, and a little frustrating. You’re not like me, Nyssa, you are good and pure—”

“Someone who is good and pure would not condone it at all. I am a hypocrite.”

“No, you are not,” he cut me off firmly. “Do not ever think that.”

I swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears that clouded my vision.

Rowan stepped closer, stopping when the tips of our feet touched. He was so close that I could smell him, so close that I was sure he could hear how violently my heart hammered in my chest.

“Did you read it all?” he asked and I nodded.

“My parents would never do those things. They were good people.”

“Good people do bad things, Nyssa.”

“Not traffic children! Goddess, Rowan!”

I ran my hands through my hair, a string of expletives escaping me as flashes of names and faces of trafficked children flashed through my mind. There were so many in that document and a note that said there could be more.

“I would have known,” I whispered softly. “If it was true, I should have.”

“You were a child, Nyssa, there was no way for you to know.”

I tugged at my hair harshly, fighting the urge to scream.

I wanted to call bullshit but the fucking evidence was too overwhelming. There were calls, texts and I recognized the numbers as theirs. I knew their numbers.

It was all there in black and white.

“Am I even their child?” I asked softly. “Did they take me too?”

Rowan did not speak and that was the most telling part.

Another round of sobs burst through me, fierce, heart wrenching sobs that tore me apart from the inside out.

Rowan cursed, wrapping his arms around me tightly as he pulled me into his chest, his chin resting atop my head. His heart was a steady anchor in his chest, keeping me grounded lest my emotions take ma way.

“They were good parents.”

“I know,” he whispered, fingers softly stroking my hair.

It was a difficult thing to learn that the people you idolized were not who you thought they were; that they were someone else’s nightmare. That they hurt innocent children around the fucking world.

They deserved to die for what they did and yet some part of me grieved them. I grieved that they suffered.

Rowan’s arms lowered to my thighs, picking me up effortlessly.

I did not even protest, merely wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him as he walked us over to the bench, sitting down with me in his arms.

“We have all the time in the world out here,” he whispered softly, his lips brushing my temple. “There’s just us.”

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