The honesty surprises me.
"Both," I say.
"Explain."
I take a breath and think about how to put it into words.
"My dad was a piece of shit," I say finally. "He beat the fuck out of me for years. Ruby was six and I tried to protect her, kept it all hidden because I was terrified of what would happen if anyone found out."
Diesel's expression doesn't change, but he's listening.
"Ms. Michaels was my teacher," I continue. "She was kind to me, noticed things. She called child protective services without telling me."
"And your father found out?"
"Yeah, and he blamed her. He was going to sell Ruby as punishment, make her disappear. He told me if I wanted to save her, I had to go hurt Ms. Michaels, make her pay for calling CPS."
I close my eyes and see it again—the fear, the desperation, the gun shaking in my hands.
"I didn't want to do it, but he had Ruby and I knew he'd go through with it. So I went to her house with a gun he gave me. Cage was there, the prospect was there, both were in my way. I don't know what I thought. All I knew was that Ruby was in trouble and she was going to be sold." I swallow hard as the memories beat at me. “I knew the pieces of shit my father was friends with. Majority of them made him look like a fucking saint. I had to protect her. It all went to shit.” I run a hand through my hair. I hate fucking talking about this shit.
"And Octavia?"
"Ms. Michaels tried to get me to calm down and put the gun down. I could see she was scared, but so was I. I shot her in her leg."
"Did you mean to?"
"Yes. I was thirteen and terrified and my hands were shaking. I had to do it—for Ruby’s safety, I had to shoot her."
"And juvie?"
"Five years learning how to survive around kids who were meaner and more broken than me. I fought a lot at first because I didn't know how else to handle the anger. Then I realized I was becoming the thing I was trying to protect Ruby from."
"So you stopped fighting?"
"I stopped losing control. I learned to lock it down, to keep the violence contained. I promised myself I'd never let it out again."
Diesel's quiet for a long time, then he says, "What's stopping you from snapping now?"
"Fear."
"Of what?"
"Of becoming that scared kid again. Of hurting someone I care about. Of proving everyone right about me being too dangerous to trust."
"That's it? Just fear?"
"And the work I do every day to control myself. And Everly makes me want to be better, not just safer."
Diesel studies me, and I can see him weighing my words.
"You don't romanticize it," he says finally.
"Romanticize what?"
"The violence. Most guys like you and me, they wear it like a badge. But you're terrified of it."
"Because I know what it can do."