Tilda went quiet, lost in thought.
Yeah.
I don’t even know how many times I cried because of the Jensons.
Always at night, when no one was around to hear. Even if I told anyone, it would just make me feel worse.
I always hid my sadness, crying alone under the blankets.
I was scared they’d see me, hate me even more, or throw me out for good.
But my tears for the Jensons have been gone for a long time.
They never cared.
From now on, I’ll only cry for the people who are worth it.
Tilda walked Una to a cab. “Tilda, are you sure you don’t want to stay at my place?”
“No, thanks. I already found somewhere to live.
“By the way … thanks.”
Tilda touched her head lightly, eyes full of gratitude.
“Don’t thank me, or I’ll stop being your friend!
“If anything happens, call me! I’ll help however I can!”
Una pouted and squeezed Tilda’s hand.
“I will.”
I guess I’m not really alone this time.
After Una left, Tilda shoved her hands in her pockets and decided to walk by the river for a while.
The riverside looked beautiful, the breeze soft.
October nights in Slosa were cool and nice.
The alcohol buzz had almost worn off.
She saw couples walking hand-in-hand. Families of three, laughing, walking their dogs, calling for their kids to slow down.
Tilda felt like she didn’t belong.
Why?
Isn’t family supposed to be the most basic thing?
Why do other families love their kids so much, while the Jensons stepped on me and even left me to burn in a fire?
I never wanted to take anything from Kyla.
All I ever wanted was family. With the new little sister, my heart felt full.
I just wish the Jensons could give me even a small part of the love they gave Kyla. After all, I’m the girl who carries their blood but was lost for 19 years.
Such a small, simple wish. But it never came true.
A lot of it is Kyla’s doing. But even more is the Jensons’ blind love and trust in her.
If they had cared even a little – if they’d bothered to find the truth, to understand me and stand up for me – things wouldn’t have turned out this way.
But no.
To the Jensons, I’m like a thorn.
Nobody wants me around.
They probably wish I’d disappeared or died 19 years ago.
Tilda pulled her shirt tighter.
She felt cold.
The farther she walked, the fewer lights and people there were.
Then she stopped.
“If you’ve got business, come out now.”
A few shady-looking men stepped out behind her.
“Hey, gorgeous. Don’t run. We won’t hurt you.”
“We just want a little … fun.”
These guys hung out near bars, preying on drunk women who staggered out.
Some girls would pass out right there on the street.
That was when these men would swoop in – stealing their money, and if they were lucky, more than that.
If the girls woke up and wanted to call the cops, these guys had photos to blackmail them with.
It always worked.
Usually, they didn’t bother with sober girls like Tilda.
But she was too pretty.
Her confident air made her even harder to ignore.
They followed her without thinking.
They didn’t even realize she was leading them into a darker, quieter area, with almost no one around.
It was like she was walking right into their trap.
“Do you know why I brought you here, even though I knew you were following me?”
Tilda took off her shirt, showing a black vest underneath.
Her perfect figure made the men’s eyes go wide, their smiles more sinister.
“This one’s making the first move?”
“Guess it’s our lucky night!”
Tilda kept talking. “I’m in a bad mood. I need someone to take it out on.”
She’d just kicked Preston earlier, but that hadn’t been enough.
And then Wade had made things worse.
If she didn’t let it out tonight, she’d have nightmares for sure.
Since they’re looking for trouble, let’s see if they can handle it.
“Go get her!”
The men didn’t care what she said. Lust took over, and they lunged at her.
But … Thump! Thud!
Painful groans filled the alley.
Tilda moved with sharp, ruthless force.
Every move was meant to hurt.
They are just scum, hunting women.
Better gone than alive.
Looking at them lying there groaning, Tilda pulled her shirt back on with style.
That was when her eyes met a pair of deep, dark ones.
Every hair on her body stood up.
Who is that?
And how did I not notice him before?
Jude had been walking right behind Tilda.
He’d heard her fight with Wade and watched her stroll alone by the river, her eyes clouded with sadness as she looked at a happy family.
She looked like a fierce animal, but deep down, she carried pain no one else could see.
Only at night could she hide away and quietly patch up her wounds.
Tilda had this mysterious, magnetic pull about her, like a flower that only blooms when it’s dark.
Just like Jude – they were the same kind of people.
From the very first time he saw her, Jude had felt it.
Now he was sure.
Tilda glanced at the man standing in the shadows – his whole vibe screamed proud and untouchable.
Danger!
This man is pure danger.
Her instincts wouldn’t stop shouting at her.
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