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But I’m not waking up.
My heart is pounding in time with the roaring in my ears. I want to fight. I want to stop this, but I’m no match for two grown men who will put a bullet in me if I don’t do as I’m told.
I know this because my father ended my mother’s life for her betrayal. He killed her and he covered it up. Men like him get away with murder and there’s nothing anyone can do. Justice is an elusive concept in my world. There’s only blood and destruction. There are only winners and losers. People like me don’t come out on top. We fall with the rest of the pawns on the chessboard while the kings watch safely from their towers built of ivory.
My father denies he killed her, of course he does, but I know the truth. He loved my mother before her indiscretion. Loved her like she was his reason for breathing. That he was so easily able to steal her life tells me he would have no issue doing the same to me.
Because Declan Easton—the only father I’ve ever known—does not love me.
Maybe he did once, and it’s that hope I hold on to. I’m still the little girl in the pale pink dress trying to get her father’s attention, even though I know he will never give it to me. In reality I am a dirty secret. I don’t know why he didn’t kill me too.
Some days I wish he had.
Jeremiah pulls back a little and scans my eyes. The dark storm clouds that swirl in his gaze terrify me. They hint at the monster he is and at the horror my life is about to become. Life with my father has been difficult, but Jeremiah means to own me body and soul.
“The wedding will take place in four weeks’ time,” he tells me. “I wanted sooner, but that’s the quickest it can be done.” A shiver runs up my spine, icy claws clutching at my heart. It takes everything in me not to pull away as he takes his hand from between my legs and brushes my hair off my face, as if he didn’t just violate me.
Four weeks.
That’s the only reprieve I get.
“You really are very beautiful, Sariah.” He leans forward and I steel myself, thinking he’s about to kiss me again. He does, but this time he brushes his lips over my cheek. I shudder internally.
“Until we meet again,” he says.
He pulls back and I stand frozen to the spot as he goes to my father. They talk for a moment, though I have no idea what they say. My mind is locked on what happened. My skin slithers with disgust. I feel like a thousand ants are climbing over me.
I barely register the door opening and then closing again. I remain transfixed in the spot Jeremiah left me in.
My soon-to-be husband.
My mouth tastes like ash.
Without warning my father slams his hand around my throat. He pushes me back so my spine hits the plasterwork behind me. My feet scramble to keep upright and it’s only his hold on me that keeps me from falling on my face.
He tightens his grip on my neck, and with nowhere to go, I do the only thing I can to relieve the pressure. I lift my head, which exposes the soft underside of my throat even more.
“Do you enjoy embarrassing me?” he demands. “He owns you! Every part of you, Sariah. You have no right to pull away from him!”
He will have expected me to bow and scrape to Jeremiah, act like the dutiful wife-to-be. His eyes blaze as he takes me in, spittle collecting at the sides of his mouth. I’ve seen him angry more times than I can count over the years. His rage is quick to blow and slow to die down. Like a volcano, his temper is explosive.
He’s glaring at me like wants to squeeze the life out of me. I should feel terror at that, but I’m not afraid to die. Living is more terrifying than any end my father could give me.
His fingers are like vices, crushing my windpipe. My survival instinct kicks in, a desperate need to live, even if my head wants to be put out of its misery. I jolt back, trying to move his hand. When that doesn’t work, I claw at his hand. My nails rake over his skin and his blood bubbles up. He doesn’t even register my attempts to free myself. My eyes find his and all I see reflected back at me is pure hate.
He slams his fist into my side hard enough that white spots dance across my vision even as the edges are starting to darken. My ribs protest, pain radiating out like an atomic blast from the site of impact. He releases his hold on my throat so that I can suck in a breath.
Turning me, he shoves me against the wall, pressing my face into the plaster, his chest to my back. His weight constricts my lungs, stopping my chest from moving to draw in air. “You will marry Jeremiah Wood. You will protect this family’s name, and you will be a dutiful fucking wife. You owe me this much.”
Fear keeps my words lodged in my throat. My father is a killer and I’m in his hands. He releases me and storms from the room. I stay locked in position, listening to his retreating footsteps before the door opens and slams shut. I don’t let the tears fall, even though they want to.
Carefully, I push away from the wall and move over to the sofa. Bruised and shattered, I sink gingerly onto it, holding my aching ribs, my heart racing in my chest.
I will marry Jeremiah. I will walk down that aisle in front of the hundreds of people and I will plaster a fake smile on my face, because what other choice is there? If I refuse my father will kill me, and while I dream of death, I’m not sure I covet it. I want freedom, not an end to my life. I want to live without the cage keeping me captive. I want to travel. I want to see the world. I want to experience things other normal teenagers do.
I want my decisions to be my own.
Jeremiah thinks he will be the first man between my legs?
No.
If that monster thinks he’s getting my virginity, he’s wrong. It seems like such a small thing to care about, but I have to fight the battles I can. This is something I can control. I would rather let a stranger fuck me than suffer the indignity of my first time with a man I despise. At least it will be on my terms then. At least I will have the ability to choose.
I just have to find someone.
And fast.
Because in four weeks’ time, my life will be controlled completely by Jeremiah Wood, and I get the feeling he is a worst beast than my father.
