The next morning I awoke to the sounds of faint voices.

"You brought Deathstroke's daughter to our apartment? To our home? Are you crazy?" Someone was saying.

I recognized Flynn's voice as he replied, "What was I meant to do? Let them take her? She's injured."

A male voice piped up, "Remind me again how this is our problem, Flynn? We're trying to get away from him, not draw him back towards us."

I could tell Flynn was growing angrier by the second. "You don't know the things he's done to her. The things he's done to all of us. She is the one thing he wants, so think about it; we have her, and therefore we can hold that against him."

This earned a few seconds of silence, which clearly meant that the other's now understood his point.

"Well, I always did think she was hot," a second male joked. Then he hissed in pain as someone smacked him in what sounded like the back of the head.

"Don't objectify her," a girl growled.

The same guy groaned, "Give me a break, you crazy feminist."

The sound of a sword unsheathing followed shortly after, and there was a frenzy of shuffling and cursing as I assumed the rest of the group tried to tackle the blade out of her hands.

"I'm going to kill you," the girl's voice dripped with venom. "Misogynistic prick."

"Remy, now is not the time," A second, slightly softer female voice sighed.

"Lulu, you saw how he tried to feel me up the other day," Remy protested.

The first guy sounded repulsed. "I was disarming you after you and your girlfriend tried to stab me in the neck."

"Look, no one gives a fuck, alright?" Flynn snapped. "There's kind of a life-threatening situation going on right now."

"Okay, fine. Wake up the psycho's kids, then," the first male proposed.

"No way am I going anywhere near her," a second male responded, earning a series of nods from the others. "Have you seen her in the sparring ring before?"

"Don't forget that Div 9 suspended ropes course," the first male added.

"And that one duel with Harvey," Remy said.

"I saw her return from a mission with Deathstroke once, covered head to toe in blood. Apparently she killed four men in one night," the Lulu girl continued.

That was when I decided that I couldn't sit there and listen to this anymore. Time to include myself in the conversation...

"Six men, actually," I corrected, sitting up straight in the bed and meeting six pairs of startled eyes. "And that was only in the first hour."

It was funny how, even though the children before me were born and bred assassins, I still managed to surprise them so visibly. They each looked paralysed by my presence.

"How long have you been awake for?" Flynn questioned, his brows knitting together. He was the only one displaying a calm face.

I pushed myself off the bed slowly, trying my best not to touch my injury.

"Long enough."

I got up and headed toward the kitchen for food. My stomach was growling with hunger. I calculated that I hadn't eaten in a good 16 hours or so. And my injury was really draining me off all my energy.

But then I felt their eyes still remaining on me and remembered my lack of pants.

"Stare at me any longer and I'll break your faces."

They instantly turned away at that, the dark skinned girl who i hadn't heard from yet muttering to the others, "I like her."

It was safe to say that I was in a grumpy mood. The fact that i'd been fucking stabbed last night hadn't exactly provided me with the most positive mindset. My wound hurt like a bitch and nothing managed to take my mind off of it, not even the small group of midnight assassins sitting gobsmacked right in front of me.

But I realized that I needed to somewhat cooperate with these people, considering that they'd been the ones to save me last night and bring me all the way here to their hideout.

"So you have friends, then," I eventually muttered to Flynn, not looking up from the sink where I was filling up a glass with water.

He stood up from his seat and moved towards me in the kitchen.

"Something like that."

He gestured to the girl who'd been labelled the feminist. "That there is Remy. And that's Sage, Leo, Noah and Luella."

Sage was the girl who's voice I hadn't previously heard — she was dark skinned, with long black hair and eyes made of steel. She held a dagger in her left hand that she was sharpening against a piece of flint, staring at me coldly. It was incredibly intimidating, but due to my prolonged time spent with Damian, I wasn't really phased by it.

Remy was east-asian, most likely Japanese, with pale skin and short dark hair. She had a uniquely pretty face with cat-like eyes and pink lips. Her demeanor, posture, and overall vibe emitted a sense of confidence and superiority. I knew already that she was an outspoken girl who held strong opinions, especially by the way she dressed so wildly in bright pink, like she just didn't give a shit what people thought.

Leo reminded me a lot of Damian. He looked italian — he was dark haired, but fair skinned, with piercing green eyes and a brooding type of aura surrounding him. A large snake tattoo crawled up his right arm and disappeared beneath his shirt before poking out around his neck. He looked rough, with faded scars littering his skin all over. I had a vague idea of he was; he'd been one of the prized students at Midnight (if it wasn't already obvious by his appearance). God, how the trainers sued to be obsessed with him.

Then there was Noah, who appeared to be a mix of african and asian ethnicity. He was tall and muscular and definitely an excellent boxer judging by his muscly arms and lean frame. For someone who looked so tough, though, he had a soft face, that told me he was a somewhat kinder soul than the others. His dark eyes bore no coldness or hate. He reminded me a lot of conner in that way, and appeared almost shy in my presence.

"Well, I'm Sasha," I eventually replied, feeling the unnecessary need to introduce myself. "Even though you already knew that."

I lifted the glass to my mouth and took a long swig. It seemed I was extremely dehydrated. Flynn watched my down the entire glass in one gulp and obviously noticed this too.

He turned to the others, all situated around the table.

"Can you give us a minute?"

They reluctantly removed themselves from the room, muttering things that generally consisted of how controlling and irritating he was.

I was curious to know what Flynn wanted with me. He looked kinda stressed, and a little frustrated, judging by the way he'd acted with his friends.

Once they'd left, he made no mistake in getting straight to the point.

"How's your injury?" He stated blankly.

My chest was throbbing with agony. "Pretty shit, if I'm being honest."

That earned a small smirk from him, which eased some of that previous tension. His eyes met mine and he leaned back against the counter top, gripping it with his hands.

"You've grown weak in your time away," he teased.

I simply rolled my eyes, though my mouth twitched slightly upwards.

"Forgive me for trying to live a normal life, Flynn."

"Hey, I never said anything about that."

I placed the glass down and crossed my arms so that we were facing opposite each other.

"What you said before, when you thought I was sleeping," I began, staring down at my feet. "All that stuff about what Slade did to me. Care to explain what you meant by that?"

Flynn's body stiffened, though it was only the slightest motion, barely visible with that controlled face of his. It was only due to my heightened senses that I was able to pick up on it.

"Nothing. It's just Midnight. You know how they were."

But I was not convinced one bit.

"No, no, you said what they did to me, and you mentioned Slade."

This seemed to make Flynn slightly on edge, causing him to grip the countertop tighter.

"Yeah, well, I've heard things, Sasha. I've heard about what he did to you. I've heard about a lot of the things he did to you."

My curiosity piqued at the mention of this, and I half-joked, "You'll have to be more specific."

Flynn looked uncomfortable. But it wasn't in the way that he found the conversation weird or stupid, it was more in the way that he wasn't used to expressing... emotions. They were not his strong suit, and neither were they mine.

He eventually let out a sigh, appearing reluctant to say his next words.

"Back in Russia, when we were ten. When he was looking for your mother. My family was there, too, remember."

My heart stopped for a good five seconds.

He knew what Slade did..? How? Who had told him this? His parents?

I knew that Flynn's family were close to Slade back in the day. They were Russian in origin, too, although Flynn had been born and raised in Gotham, only ever returning when his parents embarked on missions.

Surely he was talking about something else, though, right? I desperately wanted to believe that he wasn't about to say what I thought he was about to say. What I had been trying to forget about for almost five years now.

I swallowed hard and stared back at my feet.

"He did a lot of shit to me. But I've moved on now."

Flynn just shook his head.

"No, Sasha, this... this was..." He ran one hand through his hair. "Look, I hated you back then, but even I knew you didn't deserve this."

My heart was practically pounding through my chest. Sweat formed against my palms. This topic, this conversation... I wasn't ready for it. Even after all this time, I wasn't ready for it.

"I know, Flynn," I replied, trying to hide the tremor in my voice.

Don't show any weakness. Not around him, not around anyone.

Flynn tilted his head at me. "Do you, though? Because I never saw you mention it. I never saw you even remotely phased by it."

Of course I was phased by it, I wanted to say, but my throat was constricting now and I felt paralysed where I stood.

"It's complicated, okay? You said this before; you know how things were back then. We did what we were told to do, regardless of the situation. You know more than anyone, Flynn."

"Of course I know," he replied harshly. "It's because of how I know that I'm even bringing this up right now. You were ten, Sasha. The things they did to us... the things they put you through... it was wrong. It was just fucking wrong."

I sighed with frustration. "I thought we'd already established this several months ago."

But he wasn't giving up. He wasn't dropping the conversation, no matter how hard I tried.

"No, we didn't, actually." His voice was sharper now. Harsher. "We never exactly sat down with a therapist and properly dissected the severity of our traumas, did we? No, we were thrust into the real world by those over-worked excuses for detectives at the precinct. They didn't care about us, Sasha. They didn't realize just how much damage Midnight caused us. How much damage it caused you."

He was right, but my defences kicked in at that moment. I scrambled for an excuse.

"You don't get it. I had Bruce, and the boys, and Damia—."

"Don't," Flynn interrupted, like he'd been anticipating that I'd say that. "You really expect me to believe that the Batman and the grandson of ras al ghul showered you with hugs and kisses the second they found out what you'd been through?"

Okay, he had a fair point. A really, really fair point.

"No, I bet they treated you like a fragile piece of glass. They thought you would become like him the second you left their line of sight, didn't they?"

I wasn't able to control my facial expression as my eyebrows raised in surprise.

He knew?

"Don't act so fucking surprised. It happened to me, too, blondie. It happened to all of us."

He looked away at that, jaw tight but shoulders softening a little, seemingly willing himself to calm down.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Flynn mumbled, "Have you told him yet?"

I knew what he meant by that, but I refused to answer. Instead I gripped my arms tighter and kept my gaze planted on the floor.

Flynn knew what my response was just by that simple notion.

"So no, then..."

I swallowed hard and tried to fight back the newfound tears threatening to spill down my face.

Don't you dare fucking cry.

"What good would it do?" I finally spoke. "It's not his problem, is it? It's not his trauma. The last thing I want is to place yet another fucking burden on him."

Flynn flinched with anger.

"It's not a burden, Sasha."

But it was. I knew it was. And Damian had enough on his plate, anyway. He didn't need to know more about my childhood grievances. He'd heard enough of it.

"You know it is, Flynn."

He let out a dry, sarcastic laugh at that.

"Oh, yeah? What's going to happen when he wants to get serious with you, then, Sasha? When he wants a real relationship? Are you still gonna pretend everything's fine?"

Now I felt my face getting hot. Anxiety was creeping back into my mind. My breathing was shaky.

He's right. Of course he's right.

Flynn was stepping toward me now. Closing the distance between us until his perfect face was mere inches away from mine.

Now I was sweating like a fucking athlete.

"Don't try and lie to me, Sasha. I know you. I see the way you react to touch."

His hand lightly grazed my collarbone at that moment and I instinctively flinched in fear.

Fuck.

He pulled away knowingly at that, the look in his eyes indicating that I'd just proven his point.

"You picture them in your head every time. All those memories you pushed down just come flooding back..."

I couldn't bring myself to look at him. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the ground. He was reading me like an open book.

Flynn said, "Tell me I'm wrong, Blondie."

A lump formed in my throat. I tried to swallow it, but I couldn't. He was right. He was absolutely right, and he knew it.

Flynn understood my silence and let out a low hum.

"But it's not a big deal, huh?" He mocked.

I finally managed to turn away from him, clenching my jaw. Flynn took a step back. He was finished with his little interrogation. He'd proven his point. Hadn't he?

But there was still more left to say, and I knew it too. Before I could even process the situation so far, his eyes hardened, and he deadpanned, "You were sex-trafficked, Sasha."

Hearing those words out loud felt like a brick to my stomach.

As slowly as a parent explaining something to a child, Flynn spoke, "Your father, Deathstroke, took you to Russia to draw your mother out of her gang, and in doing so, sold you off as a child prostitute in order for you to gain inside access."

And just like that, the floodgates were ripped wide open.

Fuck.

"You were ten years old and forced to have sexual intercourse with fifty-year-old men."

Time stopped. Now the memories were coming back to me. I was back there, in that sketchy, underground brothel with the mob's highest-ranked men. Surrounded by alcohol, drugs, and twenty other girls my age.

Dibs on the blonde one, a man had said, his eyes raking over me.

Deep breaths, I'd told myself. Do it for Slade. Do it for mother. You need to get this intel one way or another. They'll never suspect you this way. That's what Slade said, right?

"Fuck," I whispered, combing my hands through my hair. I felt hot tears staining my face. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Flynn sensed my panic attack seconds before it came on. He gripped my shaking shoulders and held them, his eyes glued to mine.

"Hey, look at me."

But even though my throat was constricting and it felt as if the world was caving in on me, every single thought in my head began to spill out of me.

"Damian... he called me a whore last night... He was drunk and we had a dumb argument and I just... I just froze and all I could think about were those men..."

I didn't know why I was telling him any of this, but at this point I had no control over myself. I just needed to get everything out. Who would have thought that over five years of repressed trauma would have taken this large a toll on my mental health?

Stupid girl.

Flynn's eyes flashed with anger at my words. But he looked surprised. And I was, too, in all honestly. It wasn't like Damian to be like that. It wasn't like him to be so insensitive towards me.

"I... I don't know why it hurt so much. It's not his fault, he doesn't know. They're just words, I don't understand..."

"Sasha, listen to me," he interrupted. "Stop talking. Calm down."

But then the realisation dawned on me.

"So I was... I was raped..."

Oh, no, no, no, no....

I could tell Flynn didn't know what to say. His grip on me loosened and he turned away, staring at anything but my face

"You won't even look at me, will you?" I choked out. "Of course you won't look at me. No one's going to be able to look at me again. I'm disgusting..."

"Stop that," he growled, eyes still plastered to the floor. "Stop that right now."

But I was oblivious to his words. My mind was elsewhere. I'd disassociated from my body, and I was looking down at myself like a ghost floating above their corpse.

Summer. Oh, how it made sense now. The reason i'd felt so inclined to help her. It was so obvious I almost wanted to laugh. I couldn't believe I'd repressed this for so long. Normalised it. Forgotten about it.

"I'm damaged goods, Flynn." I managed a shaky humourless laugh. "Like a broken fucking toy."

Flynn pretty much yanked me back into reality as his hand grabbed my wrist with unimaginable force.

"Damnit, Sasha, quit saying that!" He growled, eyes finally meeting mine again. "You wanna know why I won't look at you? Because I'm angry, damnit. I'm fucking angry at the psychopath who did this to you."

He let out a sharp breath and closed his eyes, attempting to somewhat calm himself down.

"There is only so much I am able to put up with, Sasha. Everyone always says that I'm calm and collected one. I'm composed, I know what I'm doing, things don't bother me, I don't care about anything. But they're wrong. I am constantly forcing back my emotions, Sasha. I am constantly on the verge of fucking losing it because of shit like this."

He adopted a mocking tone and scoffed, "But Flynn doesn't have any emotions, does he? Flynn never cries, Flynn never smiles, Flynn never lashes out."

Then he rolled his eyes at his own words.

"Why does everyone seem to forget that I'm still a fucking human?!"

He let go of my arm and stepped away, lacing his hands angrily behind his neck. I noticed then the way his eyes flashed with so much grief and pain. He wouldn't look at me anymore, but i could still see it as clear as day. His muscles were tenser then I'd ever seen them before.

This boy is so fucking damaged.

I jumped as he abruptly slammed one first down on the countertop.

"Flynn..." I coaxed, but he interrupted me.

"No. I'm angry, Sasha. For once in my life, I am fucking angry."

His breathing was sharper than a knife. The amount of rage that was present in him was unlike anything I'd seen before. He was like a bull ready to charge.

"I am not letting him take you again. We're going to come up with a fucking good plan, and we're going to stop him. You understand?"

Although my body was numb, I forced myself to nod. This was happening. This was truly happening. I was finally going to stand up to my father.

I didn't even realize it but suddenly I was crying again. Out of sadness or happiness, I didn't know. The heaviness of this entire situation had taken a toll on me. I was so unstable. Vulnerable. We both were.

"Flynn," I began, managing a small smile through my tears like a crazy person. "I think we're more alike then you think."

He managed a small half-hearted laugh at that.

"Yeah, I think you might be right, Blondie."

oh snap i'm back wtf lol *does spontaneous tap dance*

ok so i know this was heavy but the angst the drama the tension 😩 man i missed this book i get to be so dramatic and i'm HERE for it

this is a substory about sasha that i've been wanting to explore since i first started SOTD. it's dark, but i rly wanted to shed light on the unfortunate truths of her industry — and the lengths that ppl like slade will go to when they want something.