Page 169 of Split You Open

Without missing a beat, Anchor’s eyes narrow and he gives me a cruel smile. “Trust me, this is the least sickest thing I can do.”

Blair, who’s been silent, finally speaks up. “Alright, Dad. We’ll play it your way. How do you see this panning out?”

My stomach drops as I glance over to her. Her face is bright with interest, her eyes sharp with curiosity. She’s agreeing with her dad’s plan? I don’t know if surprised is the right word, but disappointment doesn’t quite cut it either. It’s not like I can blame Blair for thinking this is a good idea—not when the man who raised her probably instilled his morals into her.

Anchor shoots his daughter a look that might resemble pride if you looked hard enough for it.

“We’ll let him find his family but then surround him and take him out before he can escape.”

Blair hums thoughtfully. “Only him, right?”

“Of course, I’m not a monster, Blair Bear.”

“Debatable,” Rhett mutters beside me.

I agree.

“Alright,” Blair nods, surprising all of us. “Sounds like a solid plan. When are you making the call?”

“Tomorrow night.”

She smiles at him. “Perfect.”

Thirty-Five

Rhett

Ascream rattles around inside my head.

The soul-aching terror that has a hold of me right now is making it hard to breathe. My heart feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my chest with how hard and fast it’s racing.

It’s just like the day after we let Ledger out of that cage in the basement.

The need to sit outside Blair’s door to make sure he didn’t slip out of his own room to slit her throat in the middle of night had been brought on by an anxiety so intense that it drove me to extremes.

That same feeling is back, this time even more urgent than before. I didn’t even think it was possible for it to become more intense, but it is and it’s tearing me up inside.

I have to protect Blair and right now, the threat is from her fucking dad.

I don’t trust him—not even a little bit.

He might be watching us like we're the threat to Blair but the only person at this table dangerous to her is him.

How the hell am I supposed to protect her from Anchor, though?

This man is a fucking psychopath. Holding hostages is a low I can’t even begin to fathom. It makes me sick. It also has me wondering if this is new for him or if this is just a typical fucking thing he does whenever the mood strikes. Nothing I learn about or from him gives me any sense of comfort. I hate that this man is what Blair knows of family. No wonder she’s so sharp and independent. She’s had to be both to survive her father’s world.

The air of confidence mixed with the eerie void of morality that hangs around Anchor has my stomach turning inside out.

The uncertainty of how to keep Blair safe from him makes my growing anxiety feel suffocating.

I try to hide the panic.

Glowering at Blair’s dad helps. The fucking asshole just can’t seem to wrap his stupid fucking head around the fact that his daughter is her own person. Every time he makes some quip about her not meeting his standards or his tone rings with disapproval, I want to leap across the table and cut his tongue out of his mouth.

By the time we’re clearing our dishes from the picnic table, I’m about one condescending comment away from stabbing Blair’s dad.

I stomp into the house and toss the dishes in the sink.