CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Admitting the truth might cost her the job, yet lying to Alpha Thorne felt impossible.
“Yes… but I had no choice,” Elowen murmured.
Thorne’s expression remained unreadable, a storm brewing behind dark eyes. “You transported drugs, worked as a prostitute, and even served two months in jail?” His voice was steady, but the weight behind it made her shrink. If Calla had endured such hardships, then what kind of innocence had survived in her sister?
Elowen’s lips trembled, but she answered, “All of it is true.”
Thorne’s face didn’t betray a flicker of emotion as he closed the folder in front of him. He had already received details compiled by Ronan and added to her documents—an unyielding record of her past. “Tell me about your family,” he said, his tone neutral but commanding.
Elowen shifted uncomfortably in the chair, bracing herself to recount her painful history. “My parents died when I was fifteen. Calla was only ten. She had no one but me.”
Thorne’s eyes softened slightly—not enough to reveal his thoughts—but he nodded as if piecing together the life behind the girl before him. “And your little sister?” His gaze remained distant, careful not to betray any emotion, yet Elowen sensed a subtle patience in his demeanor.
She hesitated, convinced that divulging her past would cost her the position. Talking seemed futile, a waste of breath in a room where the man in front of her held absolute authority.
“You won’t hire me anyway. I should leave,” she whispered, rising.
But Thorne’s voice stopped her cold. “Walk out that door, and you’ll die. Do you understand?” Fear rippled through her, the truth of his warning anchoring her feet. She had skirted death so many times, yet here it was again, tangible and close.
“They’re here? How did you know?” she asked, tears threatening to spill. Memories of her tormentor sending his men haunted her. It had been why she tried to leave earlier, but his timely intervention had prevented it.
“Tell me about Calla, and I will protect her,” Thorne stated, placing his phone gently on the polished surface of the Obsidian Hearth Table.
“Why do you need to know about her?” Elowen’s suspicion sharpened. Thorne glanced at his Rolex, a subtle irritation flickering as he checked the time.
“My patience is limited. Would you rather face your death outside?” His words were a low, dangerous growl. Elowen flinched; a single tear slid down her cheek.
“She… Calla was killed—all because of me,” Elowen admitted, accepting the tissue he offered. Thorne’s focus remained fixed, intent on understanding her story rather than her sorrow.
“Explain everything.”
Wiping her face, she began. “My parents worked for Don Ravano. One day, his men came to our home, claiming my parents owed them money. They were beaten to death. I fled with Calla, taking her away from the chaos.”
Thorne’s frown deepened almost imperceptibly. He didn’t interrupt, allowing her to continue. “We survived on the streets for days until a kind man took us in. His wife cared for us for three years, until he demanded information about my father.”
Her voice caught, but she pressed on. “I didn’t know anything. When I insisted, Ravano’s men killed him. I couldn’t escape, so I helped Calla and the woman—Mavis—flee, sacrificing myself as a decoy.”
She paused, her chest rising with the weight of memory. “I was sent to Ravenport, where I was forced into doing unspeakable things. He made me his plaything, giving me drugs to control me.”
“Couldn’t you report him?” Thorne’s voice was calm but probing.
“No. Everyone around him was complicit. The last time I tried, his men forced me into a horrific act. I was nothing but his possession.”
Thorne winced subtly at the cruelty, but he didn’t stop her. “And Calla?”
“She struggled alongside Mavis, unable to afford food or shelter. I received secret messages from her, detailing their hardships—moving between shelters, surviving on scraps.”
Thorne felt a pang in his chest but remained silent, letting her recount the past.
“I stole jewelry from Ravano to send money to Mavis. That’s how Calla survived, enrolled in school, and began a life away from the chaos. But Ravano discovered it. He forced me to reveal the recipient. I refused and endured even greater abuse. I did everything he demanded afterward to ensure Calla’s safety.”
Elowen’s eyes glistened with tears, the memory of her suffering still vivid. “I helped him traffic drugs… and even children. I did what I had to for her well-being, until one day, high on cocaine, he fell victim to my rage. I stabbed him and fled to Duskwatch City, hoping he was dead, and reunited with Calla. He wasn’t.”
Tears streamed freely now. “Years later, he tracked me down and demanded I return. I refused. The next thing I knew, Calla had been stabbed outside her University.”
Thorne’s expression darkened. “Are you certain it was him? Did you see the killer?” Suspicion flickered—he had initially considered Varick—but this revelation clarified that Calla’s fate stemmed entirely from her parents’ past entanglements.