His Greek Love | 18+

15.

"If you're such a big fan then why did you attack a house, a home, with innocent women and children in it? My children were shot! My little boy could have died because of you!" I shout. Anger boils inside of me and if she says anything else stupid, I just might break her.

"I was never at this house. This is my first time here." She says as if she expects us to be convinced. She sees our unbelieving features and continues. "I'm not the only Atlas. There are ten of us or were. I escaped and came here. And three more girls were killed. That leaves six girls still in commission. I swear I wasn't here the day you guys were attacked. I knew a little bit of what they were going to do, but I swear I didn't know they were going to do it to you." Her eyes are pleading, but innocent. I believe her, she's young and she looks fragile. Too fragile to intentionally hurt a seven-year-old boy, let alone two.

Her young features are a little questionable, she looks like she can't be older than nineteen. "How old are you? And the others?" I ask. She looks down like she's ashamed. "Seventeen."

What!?

I can't hide my surprised gasp. Ambrose seems to be just as shocked as me. Who would do this? "As I said, Black hasn't ruined just your lives." She whispers. It all makes sense now.

Black has always favored younger girls. Preferably miners. He was taking advantage of their youth. Use their naive nature to his advantage to get what he wants. He would beat them train them, take pleasure from them. He would do any and everything to them, but nothing for them, except for maybe putting them out of their misery. He didn't give me that satisfaction.

He never took boys or men. The men that worked for him were just as bad as he was. He believed that women would make better worriers; better weapons. He thought that women were so underestimated that they would never think that a tiny ten-year-old girl could pack a heavy right hook. To him, emotions were everything, the more anger or despair-any negative emotion-the more force of the power of the punch.

"Was he the one who killed those girls?" Ambrose asked from beside me. She didn't have to answer for me to know. She nods in response. Of course, he did. If he got tired of the girls, he would battle them in his little sick and twisted way of 'training'.

He knew he was stronger than them, but he didn't care. He would either beat them to death or shoot them if they were too strong for him to kill with his own hands. I was unlucky enough to only watch those events occur. I never wanted to be strong enough for him to praise and keep alive, but I also didn't want to be one of the girls to fight and be killed by him.

I knew I had a family and best friends waiting for me at home. I knew I had to fight to one day escape and go home to them. So That I could hold them and laugh with them until our lungs gave out and our bellies became abs. So I did until he threw me away.

It's only now that I know he wants me back. But why? Why come back to collect me seven years after you dumped me to the side and left me to freeze and die in the excruciating winter cold? Why now?

Aurelie is only seven years younger than me. Meaning, if her mother was taken as well, she would have been very young when she had her. So, who is her mother? How old is her mother? She had to have been in there along with me. "Who is your mother?" I voice my thoughts. Her head snaps up to meet my gaze. "I don't know her last name, but her first is Amber. She was in association with Black. Who is my father."

I look at Ambrose for the first time since the conversation started, and he is white as a ghost. This all must be triggering to him. I wonder what Black did to his family-why he wants so much revenge. Ambrose, how old is Amber?" I ask, hoping his answer is not as wrong as I'm thinking.