Page 38 of Run

“I’m sorry,” she whispered to him. “I’m so sorry.”

“How old were you?” David’s voice was rough, making her blink several times until the question sank in.

“Thirteen.” She found it hard to meet his eyes.

“A baby,” he muttered.

Elle shook her head. “I knew what the malware did by then, but I just hadn’t figured out how to get Tommy to stop making me hack things. I’d scour the news, searching for hints about the damage I’d caused. I even kept note of them in the hope that one day, I could somehow make it up to people. It wasn’t until just before my fourteenth birthday that I figured out all I needed to do was make a mistake in my coding, and the hack or malware would be useless. Unfortunately for you, for your team, I didn’t work that out until it was too late.”

Her eyes closed against the memory of her father’s rage when she’d suddenly started screwing up her jobs. Marcus had been the one to save her from the blows Tommy rained down on her. She’d spent weeks in bed after that, recovering from the damage he’d caused. Lying in pain while her mind raced to find a way to fix everything.

Only to realize there was no fixing any of it.

From that moment on, she’d been picky about which jobs she sabotaged. By then, she’d hacked their cell phones so knew how Tommy intended to use the code he demanded she write. If it was impossible for her to screw it up without raising his suspicions, she’d tipped off the cops and tried to stop things that way. Only if the situation was life or death; otherwise, Tommy would have become suspicious, and she hadn’t thought she’d survive a second beating.

Even then, the jobs that went wrong had drawn Tommy’s wrath—a slap or a kick, being locked in a closet for days, humiliated in front of his men, threatened with acts that had made her vomit. It was only Marcus, hovering around, that had given her some measure of protection. Of course, that was before Marcus got sucked so far into the James business that he couldn’t see anything outside of it.

David’s hand covered hers again, the warmth of his touch seeping into her cold, weary bones. “What happened when you screwed up the code, Blue?”

Elle shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. There were some things she wouldn’t—couldn’t—say.

Fingers wove through hers, making her stare at their hands. “You. Are. Innocent. In. This,” he repeated.

Her eyes closed, and she shook her head again, in protest this time.

Not innocent.

Never innocent.

“You were a child,” David whispered. “You were used. And youareinnocent.”

No. Just no. The protest was loud in her head, even though the words wouldn’t come out of her mouth.

Gentle fingers wiped her cheek, making her realize she was crying. Damn exhaustion. It had eroded her bravado, exposing her fear and regret to those she cared about most.

“It’s been a tough couple of days,” David murmured. “You need to sleep, Ellie Blue. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

That got her voice working. “I need to finish cracking these phones.”

“It can wait.” There was no give in his voice.

He stood and, without asking, lifted her into his arms. Elle couldn’t stop herself from curling into him. Ashamed of what she’d done. Ashamed that she felt the need to hide from Callum and Joe—two people she loved very much. Silent tears streamed down her face, soaking David’s sweater. Tears for the child she’d been. For the lives that she’d taken. For the damage she’d caused. Tears for the little girl who’d desperately wanted her father to love her—enough to willfully ignore the warning bells going off all around him.

David pushed open the door to a bedroom and placed her in the middle of a soft bed. The lights were off, and the room was cool.

“Sleep,” he ordered before turning away.

“Whose room is this?” Surely someone had already claimed it. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa the night before and thought she’d do the same again that night.

“Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.” In other words, it was his.

Elle’s hand snapped out to curl around his wrist. “I know the words don’t mean much, but I’m really sorry about your team.”

“Blue, you need to let it go. It’s in the past, and it wasn’t your fault.” His deep voice, with its weirdly generic accent, was filled with understanding. With forgiveness. Which made her feel worse because she didn’t deserve either.

“Please don’t go.” She grasped his wrist tighter.

David ran his other hand through his hair. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”