Fuck. My. Life.
I slowly inhale through my nose and breathe out through the mouth to calm my racing heart and the need to murder one man. It’s not enough to simply go to the cops with this information. NO. Not when all the head honchos are on the Malone payroll.
My backbone tightens along with my resolve to see this family ruin to the point three generations from now everyone will think back on the two men at the helm and shudder with disgust.
I dare a look around the edge of the curtain and sure enough the son-of-a-bitch wears a sickening smile spread across his lips.
"Seamus." My father's voice cracks. "She's my daughter."
Cold silence.
"She's a threat. A threat with considerable market value." He moves out of my limited line of sight. Papers shuffle. A pen clicks. "The Castellanos have already expressed interest. So have the Al-Rashids. Either alliance would strengthen our position significantly."
Another frosty pause.
"You can't—" I hear my father finally say, but it’s a brittle fight and my uncle hears the same thing I do. Weakness.
"I can. I will." Seamus's tone sharpens. "Don't forget what I've done for you, brother. Don't forget what I know."
Silence. Heavy and suffocating.
I know about the leverage Seamus holds over my father. I don't know the specifics, only that it's something from before I was born. Something ugly. Something that lives in the spaces between their words and turns my father into a ghost of himself whenever Seamus mentions "that night." I've watched him shrink. Watched the blood drain from his face. Watched him pour three fingers of whiskey with shaking hands and drink it like medicine.
"She's all I have left of Catherine." My father's voice is barely a whisper now.
"Catherine is dead. And unless you want to join her, you'll remember where your loyalties lie."
More silence. I press my hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound. My eyes burn. My chest aches. Every heartbeat thuds so loud in my ears I'm certain they can hear it.
Say no. Please. For once in your miserable life, choose me.
"Fine." The word falls like a stone. "Do what you need to do."
Something inside me cracks. Not breaks. Not yet. But cracks, deep and jagged, in a place I thought scarred over the day we buried my mother.
My father just agrees to let his brother sell me. His only daughter. His only child. The last piece of the woman he supposedly loved.
Sold. Like one of his racehorses. Like the art on his walls.
I bite down hard enough to taste blood. The betrayal coats my tongue, metallic and thick. Twenty-five years of hoping, and he kills it with a single word.Fine.
"Good." Seamus sounds pleased. Satisfied. Like he's closed a business deal and not condemned his niece to auction. "I'll have men collect her the moment they see her and start preparing her for transport. Keep this all to yourself."
"She’s smart and resourceful. Don’t be surprised if she already knows your plan, brother. And if she runs before you can send her to the Society?"
I don't need to see Seamus to know he's giving that lazy one-shouldered shrug. The one that says the answer should be obvious to anyone with a brain. "When have you known me to allow anyone to get away from me, brother?"
From behind the curtain, I track a set of footsteps as they cross the room. It’s my uncle. I recognize the gait of his step as Seamus leaves first, his expensive shoes clicking against the hardwood in the hallway.
My father doesn't move.
I hold my breath. Count the seconds.
One. Two. Three.
Move. Leave. Let me get out of here.
He walks toward the door, but then he stops.
