It was difficult to answer his question straight away. Especially because of his intense gaze on me, a look filled with so much unspoken words.

Was I in pain?

I have been in pain for weeks now. To a point where I don't remember what my life was like without that pain. It simmered underneath my skin, down to the last layer. It was like a non stopping current, the pain coursing through my whole body in waves that came and went.

I was in pain.

My soul ached for what life has dealt me. I wanted a mum and a dad. Parents who loved each other and were irrevocably in love with their child that the thought of harming them would be horrific behind words. I was hunting for normalcy. And fuck it I'll get it.

I took a deep breath, summoning all the strength within me, and slowly nodded, a single tear threatening to escape the confines of my eyes.

Nate sat up, his eyes never leaving mine, and gathered me in his arms. He smelled amazing, his scent exuding strength and comfort, overwhelming my nostrils with its intoxicating allure. I leaned against his chest, finding solace in his embrace, my hands skirting over the fine dusting of hair that led to his V-shaped neckline.

"They'll win if we give them the satisfaction of your tears," Nate murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the wounds of my heart.

"They've seen me cry plenty of times," I replied softly, my voice tinged with vulnerability.

"When?" he asked, his curiosity gentle yet persistent.

"When I was at my lowest," I confessed, memories of my darkest moments flashing before my eyes.

"No more crying. Cry in my arms, but not one more tear for them," Nate whispered, his voice filled with conviction, as if he were making a solemn vow to protect me from any more pain.

I nodded, feeling a mix of relief and determination wash over me. His words resonated deep within my soul, and I decided then and there that I would no longer allow those who had hurt me to have power over my emotions. No more tears shed for them.

"Let's sleep now. Tomorrow it's going to be chaotic," Nate said, his voice taking on a hint of mischief and excitement.

"Why?" I inquired, curious about what could possibly be awaiting us.

"Got someone I want you to meet," he replied, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

I knew who it was. My heart fluttered with both nervousness and eagerness. Meeting someone significant in Nate's life held both a promise of connection and a sense of responsibility.

"And we will tell you everything," he added, his voice softening with affection.

As I lay there, wrapped in Nate's embrace, I couldn't help but wonder how my life had taken this unexpected turn. From a place of profound pain and longing for normalcy, I had found solace in the arms of a man who had become my confidant, my protector, and my anchor in the storm.The night seemed to pass like a gentle dream, and as the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, I felt a mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Nate's words lingered in my mind, urging me to face the day with newfound strength and resilience.

**

Nate held my hand firmly as we made our way down the stairs, the dimly lit surroundings hinting at the covert nature of this safe house. The distant chattering piqued my curiosity, and I let Nate lead me towards the source of the voices.

As we turned a dark corner, we stepped into a brightly lit large kitchen where Claud, immersed in the music from his headphones, was brewing some tea at the stove. The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and I wondered where the chattering had come from. Just then, through a window, I glimpsed a group of unfamiliar faces walking away, plates in hand, indicating they had just left the kitchen.

At the side of the kitchen, a large dining table sat, and my attention was immediately drawn to a man seated there. I recognized him from Nate's first visit to one of my father's dinner parties. The resemblance between Nate and him was striking, as if looking at an older version of Nate.

As I approached, the man stood up, his eyes fixed on me with intensity. My instinct was to shrink under his gaze, but I forced myself to stand tall. A breeze brushed over my neck, reminding me of my exposed bruises, and I felt self-conscious in the low top I was wearing, the only available clothing at the moment.

The man's eyes narrowed as he noticed my bruises, and I could sense his anger bubbling beneath the surface. "Fuck that murdering bastard," he seethed.

"Dad," Nate growled, giving his father a warning look, trying to control his father's emotions in front of me.

Nate's dad opened his mouth to say something but restrained himself, visibly trying to contain his anger. He then extended his hand towards me. "Hello, I'm Andres Lewis. Nate's dad."

I clasped his hand in mine, feeling a mix of nervousness and curiosity. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."

"You've grown to look exactly like your mother," he remarked, and a lump formed in my throat. He knew my mother, and I longed to know what his version of her was.

"What was she like?" I asked, eager to hear more about the woman who had been a mystery to me for so long.

Andres' face softened as he spoke of her. "She was the laughter and the joy in the room. The loud and proud kind of woman who took no bullshit from anyone. The strong woman who my wife was very lucky to have as a best friend."

His description painted a different picture of my mother than the one I had known. My mother had been timid and small under my father's shadow, and I started to wonder if he had played a role in shaping her into someone she wasn't.

"I didn't know her like that," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You probably don't know a lot of things. Sit, have breakfast, and we will talk," Andres suggested, motioning towards the dining table.

Feeling dazed, I took a seat at the table. My emotions were in turmoil, making it difficult for me to reach for any food. Thankfully, Nate noticed and took care of me, placing a bagel and an almond butter croissant on my plate.

As I took a few bites of the food on my plate, I could feel Andres looking at me.

Andres watched me for a moment, his gaze filled with both curiosity and concern. "You've been through a lot, haven't you?" he said gently, recognizing the pain behind my eyes.

I nodded, finding it difficult to put my emotions into words. My past had been a maze of darkness and secrets, and now, sitting at the dining table with the man who had known my mother, I longed for answers and a sense of closure.

Andres sighed, looking at me with empathy. "I wish I could have been there for you, Ellie. Your mother and I lost touch after she married your father. But I always wondered about you. And she sometimes sent pictures of you to her best friend, my wife."

"Why did you lose touch?" I asked, curious about the circumstances that had led to this disconnect.

Andres' expression grew somber. "Life took us in different directions. Your mother was always headstrong, and she made some choices that we didn't agree with. When she married your father, she distanced herself from many of her old friends, including myself and Fallon."

I couldn't help but wonder what choices my mother had made and what had caused her to drift away from the people who cared about her. It was evident that Andres had genuinely cared for her, and hearing him talk about her with such fondness stirred conflicting emotions within me.

Nate, sensing the heaviness of the moment, interjected, "Dad, let's not dwell on the past. Ellie is here now, and we should focus on making her feel welcome and safe."

Andres nodded, acknowledging his son's wisdom. "You're right, Nate. I apologize for bringing up painful memories."

"It's okay," I replied softly. "I want to know about my mother, even if it's not all pleasant."

Andres smiled warmly at me. "Your mother had a light in her that could brighten the darkest of days. She was fiercely protective of those she loved and had a heart full of compassion. But she also carried her own burdens and secrets. I wish I could have been there to support her through it all."

I could see the regret in Andres' eyes, and it reminded me of my own regrets for not having known my mother better before her untimely passing.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," I said, appreciating the glimpse of my mother's personality that Andres had painted. I knew there was more, and I also knew both Nate and Andres where mindful of easing me into all the information they had.

But I was an impatience person. They had until I finished my breakfast and then they had to tell me everything whether they liked to or not.