Free Hidden (To Love A Killer #1) by Lexie Ray

upbringing been like? Where had he been raised, and by what sort of monsters that he had to kill them in order to leave? The similarities between his mysterious childhood and her own were spawning all kinds of questions in Hunter’s mind. Though he hadn’t shared so much as one detail, Hunter was beginning to sense the reason behind their connection. They were alike.
                  Already she admired Ash. Hunter hadn’t killed her way out of anything. She had snuck off quietly in the middle of the night, scared to death, abandoning her siblings and friends. Thomas had helped her. He had been on watch that night. His job had been to make sure no one escaped, but he had looked the other way after they had made eye contact across the field. He had been a decent person back then. What had changed? Why had he come back for her years later? What had changed in New Hampshire, at the farmhouse, that all of a sudden they wanted her back?
                  “So did I. I had a horrible upbringing,” she finally answered in a whisper, “but I never killed anyone.”
                  Her words hung in the air between them like an accusation she hadn’t intended. Maybe she resented him for his strength, for the fact that he was able to do what she never could. Or maybe she was beginning to wonder how he defined “difficult upbringing.” It was possible that her life in the country had been infinitely worse than whatever he had gone through. She tended to forget that, often minimizing her own hardships and giving too much credit to the struggles of others.
                  “I wish I had,” she added.
                  “You wish you had killed someone?” he asked.
                  “Killed my way out of my family,” she said. “If I had, then Thomas wouldn’t have come looking for me. None of this would be happening.”
                  “Do you want to tell me about it, Hunter?” he asked in a soft voice that was nearly an exhale.
                  Hunter thought about that, considering whether or not she wanted to, whether or not she could.
                  “We had rules. Not just family rules, though there were those as well. But all the children had rules, guidelines, for how to stay alive,” Hunter’s voice trailed off into a thread of sadness. “There were so many kids, so many girls where I grew up. We called it a family, but it wasn’t. I guess we didn’t know we were slaves or prisoners. Our first rule was to never make eye contact with the adults. It was a weird rule, I guess, looking back. All of it was weird. All of our rules implied that we should think that we were responsible for what was happening to us because we could prevent it with rules.” Hunter stopped for a second, snorting a laugh of disgust and pity. “But they worked for the most part. Our rules worked. If you made eye contact, it was like inviting them, inviting the adults to take you. It was like volunteering yourself to go to the barn. Don’t look anyone in the eye, rule number one.”
                  Without warning, Ash’s hand was on Hunter’s, holding it. His grip was firm and warm. His hand, strong and comforting, was much larger than hers. It felt good. 
                  “Was Thomas one of the adults you tried not to make eye contact with?” he asked gently while squeezing her hand.
                  “No,” she said. “Thomas was one of the kids from the boys’ camp. He was one of us, but they got to him. By the time he was nineteen, there was nothing left of him. His heart had been hardened. It may have even crumbled into nothingness. That’s what they wanted at the farmhouse, to turn the children into monsters so that the horrors of the barn would never end. They wanted generation after generation to continue it, keep it going. That’s why they want me, Ash. I know too much. They