Exodus (The Ravenhood Duet Book 2)

by Kate Stewart

  Tobias drives on, his expression impenetrable as if he’s not even listening, but I know he hears every word.

  “I wasn’t the lonely girl anymore. I had a life, a business, friends, and a fiancé who adored me. I did everything I was supposed to do. I took all those steps to ensure I had a full life, a life I forced myself into because I had no choice.”

  He pulls onto the road leading to the house, and I will myself to finish.

  “So day by day, I lived this life hoping it would be enough, praying that I could forget this place, forget you, hate you, but at night…when I dream,” an angry sob bursts out of me as the full weight of my fate overcomes me with grief. “The dreams won’t let me forget. I’ve tried everything, and I can’t move on. I can’t. So that’s why I came home, and you, God, I thought if I could just face this, it would make me stronger, braver, but all it’s made me is a bigger fool.” I shake my head. “I’m not supposed to admit this to you because of how pathetic it makes me, but I’ve been riddled with grief and guilt since I left, and I’m done lying to myself.” I run my sleeve along my nose and gaze over at him to see him looking straight at me. “Because the life I truly want doesn’t have a thing to do with perfection. It’s the farthest thing from safe, and the man I want is anything but gentle.”

  And with that, I pass out.

  I rouse to the feel of his hands. A faint caress on my breasts as he slowly unbuttons my shirt.

  “Tu penses que tu peux juste revenir après tout ce temps et dire de telles choses…” You think you can just come back after all this time and say these things…

  I stifle my moan as the silk is drawn away, leaving me in my lace bra. My nipples pebble under his breath as his hands faintly roam, the lightest brush of his fingers sending tsunami pulses up my spine. I fight the alcohol fog I’m drifting in and out of to bring myself back to him.

  “Je baise mon poing tous les jours en pensant à toi.” I fuck my fist to you every day. He unbuttons my slacks and slowly pulls them down. “Et je te déteste pendant tout.” And I hate you the whole time.

  Briefly, he buries his head in my neck, his warm, nicotine-laced breath stirring every memory of intimacy we shared. My limbs tremble as I rouse from my whiskey coma and fight myself to keep from clutching him to me. But I opt to play comatose, my obliterated hopes sparking with every word he speaks.

  “Tu dis mon nom quand tu jouis?” Do you call out to me when you come?

  Yes.

  “Tu ne peux pas être ici. Je ne te laisserai pas voler mon âme une nouvelle fois.” You can’t be here. I won’t let you steal my soul again.

  I love you. I love you.

  He runs his thumbnail beneath my lower lip. “Tellement belle.” So goddamn beautiful.

  Yours.

  “Belle et destructrice.” Beautiful and destructive.

  Pot and kettle.

  I hang onto every word like a lifeline, while the strength of the whiskey latches onto me, threatening to pull me back under.

  “J’allais bien.” I was doing fine.

  Liar.

  He lifts me, unfastening my bra, and pulls it away.

  “Putain. Putain.” Fuck. Fuck. “Tu es en train de partir. Ça n’arrivera plus.” You’re leaving. This isn’t happening again.

  Thick fingers trail up the sides of my breast as a low moan escapes me. His fingers still when I open my eyes. His are brimming with anger, lust, and resentment. I gaze back at my reflection in his flames.

  “T’aimer m’a rendu malade et je ne veux plus jamais guérir.” Loving you made me sick, and I don’t ever want to get well.

  I let sleep take me.

  I wake to the sound of howling wind outside my window. I lift from unrestful sleep to see two Advil on my nightstand along with a bottled water. I down it all, the split in my head enough to have me contemplating spending the day in bed. Pulling on my robe, I opt for fresh air, moving onto my balcony through the French doors. I take in the early morning, the blanketing clouds gathering in the horizon and drifting closer. The chill in the air has me shivering where I stand when awareness pricks, and I glance over the railing and spot Tobias on one of the loungers next to the covered pool. He’s still in last night’s suit and a black wool trench coat. Reclined back, a lit cigarette pinched between his fingers, with his eyes closed.

  He never left.

  Despite the chorus of drums in my head, I dress quickly into warm clothes and make my way out onto the deck. I approach quietly and take a seat in the lounger next to him and drink him in. He’s thirty-six now, and at the time we were together, I thought we were ageless. Time didn’t exist then, and time has done nothing but compliment his bone structure, his build, his unparalleled beauty. It’s then I recall his words from last night, his touch, the subtle but possessive strokes of his fingers, his heavily veiled affection for me as he undressed me from my soiled clothes.

  I simply gaze at him, knowing he’s aware I’m there. He pulls on his cigarette and lifts to sit, his eyes opening but focused on the textured cement beneath his feet.

  “My first clear memory is of a red coat,” he says softly. “It had black toggle buttons. It was hanging next to the door when my mother snatched it off the hook and wrapped me in it, fastening the buttons one by one. I could tell she was terrified.”

  “N’aie pas peur, petit. Nous partons. Dis au revoir et ne regarde pas en arrière. Nous partons à l’aventure.” Don’t be afraid, little one. We’re leaving. Say goodbye, and don’t look back. We’re going on an adventure.

  “But she was scared. And when the doorbell rang and she answered it, a man I’d never seen smiled down at me.”

  “Beau? Dominic’s father?”

  He nods, flicking ash off his cigarette.

  “He said he was taking us to America, and we were going to be happy there. He gathered us and the few belongings my mother packed into his car, and we left. That’s all I remember about fleeing France. Being in that coat, my mother’s fear, the red-headed stranger, and boarding my first plane.”

  He runs a hand down his shadowed jaw.

  “And we were happy here, mostly. But my mother missed France horribly when we got to America. She didn’t contact anyone. It was the price of fleeing from my father. Back then, he had a lot of connections and it was too risky. Over the years, I would catch her crying while sorting through old pictures, mourning her family. Her mother especially. But she loved Beau King, and it was easy to see. And he was good to me, strict but good. He saved us. She would tell me constantly that he saved us. And I believed her. The only memory I had of my real father was that day I told you about.”

  “Saint-Jean-de-Luz.”

  Another nod as he puffs on his cigarette.

  Snow begins a lazy drift from the clouds above, and I sit idle, too afraid to break the spell.

  “Not long after, her belly grew, and then one day, they brought Dominic home.” His smile is faint, but it’s there. “At first, I despised him. I didn’t want to share my mother’s attention.” He gives me a sheepish grin. “So, I put him in a Tangelo orange box and took him out to the garbage. I put a can of his formula and bottle in there with him so he wouldn’t starve.”

  “Oh my God,” I can’t help my laugh, and he chuckles with me.

  “When she realized what I’d done. Well, it’s the maddest I’ve ever seen her. I was spanked raw, but she never told Papa.”

  He shakes his head, his smile lingering. “The next day, my mother insisted I hold him. She set me up in her rocking chair and placed him in my arms.”

  He looks over to me, but he’s a million miles away. “He was mine. From that minute on. He was mine.”

  I nod, a hot tear sliding down my cheek.

  “Our English was pretty bad the first few years. We struggled quite a bit, and we were not at all prepared for the culture shock. I think Mom considered America the Wild West at the time. She was paranoid, and rarely let me play outside. She and Papa would have fights about it, and she would always win
. She was so stubborn.”

  “Sounds familiar.”

  Tobias rolls his eyes, and I can’t help my answering laugh.

  “I hated school, kids being kids and shit, they made fun of my accent, my clothes. When I’d go home, I would take Dominic into my room. And I would play him music, my mother’s old tapes.”

  This confession has my heart aching. The music. His mother’s music.

  He tosses his cigarette and slides his hands in the pocket of his trench coat, his thick hair falling along his forehead with the sweep of the wind. “He was the happiest baby. Constantly smiling, laughing, and he rarely cried. For a time, he was the one who made things okay. He helped us cope so much those first few years. He was such a joy. And eventually, things got better. Mom let me play outside. We adapted.”

  He sighs, eyeing the pack of French cigarettes lying next to him.

  “My mom would always come home from the plant exhausted, but she rarely complained, but Papa would talk about the boss who robbed his employees, and they would fight. She would tell him to leave it alone.

  “Je ne lui fais pas confiance. Il y a quelque chose dans ses yeux. Il est mort à l’intérieur.” I don’t trust him. Something in his eyes. He’s dead inside.

  “She used to beg him to drop it, tell him they were there on a work visa that Roman had helped them get, and they should be grateful. But Papa wouldn’t let it go. He started leaving us alone at night, and often. I didn’t pay close attention to everything, but they had horrible fights sometimes. I remember one night well because it was one of the rare nights Dominic was inconsolable.”

  I reach for his hand, and he runs it along his thigh, denying me. I ignore the sting of rejection.

  “My parents were not the type to fight behind closed doors, so I would lock Dominic in the closet with me in the hall just outside their bedroom so I could keep an eye on my mother. Papa was never violent, but he was aggressive enough to scare me.”

  I cough out my sarcasm, and he looks at me pointedly. “Shut up.”

  “You got it, apple.”

  “He wasn’t my birth father.”

  “But you are very much Beau’s son.”

  “That’s true.” He lights another cigarette and inhales deeply.

  “Papa started to talk to me after that. I think he was starting to resent Mom for not understanding that he was trying to do something good, not just for us, but for the other people who worked at the plant. He would take me on walks and give me long speeches on what it meant to be a man. To look out for others. I didn’t think anything of it. I just thought he was trying to raise a good son.”

  “Do you think he knew that he was in danger?”

  “Looking back now, I think he was losing faith in his hopes for building a life here. Nothing was going as he planned. They were exhausted, not gaining any ground.” He inhales some smoke. “And then the meetings started. They happened in our townhouse, every second week of the month.”

  “The brotherhood formed there?”

  Tobias nods.

  “Frères du Corbeau.” Brothers of The Raven. “I didn’t pay much attention because I was only eleven. But one night, I got bored and hid on the stairwell deciding to listen in. A few of them were calling for drastic actions. Delphine was one of them. You know she’s the one who got my parents the job there.”

  I nod.

  “She was on board with Papa. A few fights broke out that night, and my mother surprised everyone by standing and speaking out. I’m guessing it was the first time.”

  “C’est la peur qui va nous garder en colère, nous garder confus, nous garder pauvres. Nous devons cesser d’avoir peur des hommes comme eux, des gens qui profitent de nous. Si la peur vous arrête, la porte est grande ouverte. Nous ne pouvons pas compter sur vous.” It’s fear that’s going to keep us angry, keep us confused, keep us penniless. We have to stop being afraid of men like this, of the people who take advantage of us. If you’re going to let fear stop you, walk out that door. We can’t afford you.

  “I know now that at one time, my mother was an activist, much like my birth father, and when she had me, she stopped her involvement. I think my papa’s disappointment in her and the reason for their fights is that she refused to fight along with him. After she spoke, only one person left that night. The next week my parents died, and no one at that plant was talking. No one knew a single detail about what happened. But Delphine found out the shift supervisor who wasn’t even on the floor when they died, got a raise and a promotion shortly after.”

  “Confirming Roman’s guilt.” My stomach drops.

  “That was the assumption. After that, Delphine took us in. And that’s when Dominic started to cry, and often.”

  Snow begins to settle silently, coating the grounds around us.

  “We grew up dirt poor. In some pretty shitty conditions.”

  “I saw.”

  Tobias pauses, eyeing me. “Her piece of shit of a husband left her a few months before my parents died. She drank a lot and was heavy-handed at times, especially with Dom when he started to act up. It wasn’t all bad, but it…” he sighs. “Well, you saw.”

  I nod, batting a tear away.

  “A few weeks after we moved in with Delphine, we got a curious visitor.”

  “Sean?”

  “Yeah,” he says softly. “He was younger, but he just kept coming around. He and Dominic took up together fast, and I was often in charge of watching them and walking them to and from school.” Tobias shakes his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. “He was a fucking mess. His hair was always jacked, always. He was a dirty little shit, always hanging from the trees and never going home until way after dark. He used to sneak into my room at night, and the three of us would go off into the woods. He was fearless, even at seven-years-old. Almost every morning, he tore the clothes off his mother dressed him in and put on the same raggedy shirt. He refused to follow rules, even back then.”

  We share a smile.

  “Tyler came along just after. We didn’t have much at Delphine’s, but we made do. And the men from the brotherhood never forgot my parents and were our saving grace. They would come by and give us treats. Sometimes they would send clothes and money by mail—little things to help us along the way. My aunt would allow it, and not long after they died, she started hosting meetings in her home. The more time that passed, the more time I would sit in. Delphine was far more extreme. Her ideas on how to fight back were argued about, but for the most part, she was the leader. There were only a handful of the originals left by then. Most of them had died out or left the cause because of what happened to my parents. But the more I listened in, the more I became involved, and on my fifteenth birthday, I stood and spoke for the first time.”

  “And they listened.”

  He nods.

  “Right before I left for prep, I was running the meetings, networking to get more people. And Sean and Dom were starting to pay attention. My plans for the brotherhood had grown exponentially. I would come back home during the summers to be with Dom and Sean, who were slowly becoming more involved. Dom was taking over meetings and running the local chapter by the time I returned after my sophomore year of college, and that was the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  That’s when Tobias lifts his eyes to mine and looks at me, really looks at me for the first time, and I feel it down to my toes.

  He pulls out my library copy of The Thorn Birds beneath his jacket. It fits easily in the palm of his hand. My eyes widen with shock.

  “You were there when I stole it?”

  “Dominic lived at the library. It was his favorite place in the world to be. He despised Delphine most days because she was a nasty drunk and escaped there when he wasn’t out gallivanting with Sean. I was there to pick him up, and I ended up browsing while I waited for him. You were a row over when I spotted you, and I didn’t pay you much attention until Roman walked up behind you and told you he would buy you books, and you didn’t need to rent them. You rolled
your eyes and called him a ‘butt munch’ under your breath before you stuffed this book in your pants.”

  Stunned by his confession, my eyes drift to the book in his hand.

  “It’s when I saw you that I knew you were just a kid. Innocent in this and with no knowledge of who your father truly was or his fucked-up business dealings. I knew you weren’t close. He ushered you out, and I followed you both out to the parking lot. You looked so miserable, but you wore this faint smile on your lips. Like you were happy about your silent rebellion in stealing the book.”

  No doubt I was. It was the last summer I spent with Roman before we became estranged. Tobias runs his fingers over the tattered binding of the book. “You were just a kid, and I vowed that day to keep you out of it. I kept close tabs on you after, and when you didn’t return after that summer, I assumed it was for good.”

  I rub my hands together. “So did I.”

  “Dominic was still in school, and I wanted to give us time to gain strength in numbers before we made any serious moves. Sean was already running the garage we bought with Dom’s part of the settlement and heading up the meetings there. Dom secured his place before he left for college, and he made damn sure everyone knew of it. And Sean held it all down while we were both away.”

  Snow continues to drift between us, and I shiver in my jacket as Tobias stands and crushes out his cigarette. “I was twenty-four when I made my first million, and I began networking on a corporate scale by the time Dominic graduated high school. Tyler went into the service. Sean kept it together here. So, I spent my time between here and France, strengthening the network, finding old relatives to help us. By my twenty-fifth birthday, we were more of an international movement, not a small-town organization. And for a while, I lost sight of our original goal. So had everyone else, and over the years we only got stronger.”