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She seems so… beaten down. I hate it. I want to skin Michael alive for making my sister lose that fight she always had before she married him. “You want to come home, say the word. I don’t give a shit that you’re married.”
Letta gives me a sad smile, pushing a dark auburn lock behind my ear. My red is darker than her light copper colour.
“Do you really think that’s an option for us—to just walk away? We’re expendable, Leelee.” The use of my childhood nickname makes tears prick my eyes. I wish we could go back to simpler times; when all we worried about was buying music and seeing our favourite popstars in concert. I want to gut Michael for stripping her joy from her.
“You’ll see when Dad arranges your marriage,” she continues, breaking through my thoughts. Tears stain her cheeks and brim in her eyes. I fucking hate it. “You’ll have no choices, no options either. If I leave, Dad will just send me back and things will be worse for me at home. This alliance means too much. We’re just pawns in this game our father is playing.”
I refuse to believe that, even though I know what she’s saying is true. Dad would care. He loves us.
“Letta…”
She leans over and kisses my forehead. “Time to go.”
“No.”
“He’s not going to lay another finger on me.”
I want to ask why she called for help if she isn’t going to accept the olive branch we’re offering. I want to drag her out of the house and back with us, to safety, but Dex grabs my arm.
“You heard her. Time to go.” I try to shrug my brother off, but he doesn’t move. His dark eyes are unyielding as he peers down at me. “You shit him up enough. He won’t touch Letta again, and if he does, I’ll be back. I promise.”
I grind my teeth together, muttering a “Fine” as I’m herded towards the door.
Peering over my shoulder, I give Michael a death glare. The cut to his face will permanently mark him. I hope every time he looks in the mirror, he’s reminded of what will happen if he lays a finger on my sister again.
Dex shoves me to get me moving, and I make my way out into the fresh air, ignoring every instinct that is screaming at me to save Letta from this shit. The house looms behind us, lit up by heavy-duty floodlights. The dark sky beyond swallows the landscape, but I know there are trees beyond the house and a small lake.
Letta married a man with a lot of money.
As will I, no doubt.
“You should have let me gut him,” I complain as I go down the steps in front of the building, heading towards the car. I pocket my flick knife, tucking it into my jacket.
“And bring down war on our heads? Be smart, Elena.”
His condescending tone pisses me off. “That bastard beat our sister, and you care about war?” Surely what he’s done is already an act of war.
He pulls the car door open but doesn’t climb inside. Instead, he leans his forearms on the roof. “Letta knew what she was getting into, and she can handle that suit-wearing prick. Have a little faith in her.”
But he hadn’t heard her sobbing in fear down the phone. He hadn’t heard the terror and panic in her voice when Michael had been slamming against the bathroom door, trying to gain entry. That shit is going to stay with me for a while.
“I trust Let. I just don’t trust Michael.”
“He knows what we’ll do to protect our sister. He’ll keep his hands to himself.”
I’m not sure about that, and I suspect Letta won’t call us next time she’s in trouble either.
I get in the car, and Dex follows. As he starts up the engine, I stare moodily out of the side window. Some of the things my sister said are bothering me.
You’ll see when Dad arranges your marriage. You’ll have no choices, no options either.
Invisible shackles snap around my wrists. I know I have to marry, and I know I’m lucky it hasn’t happened yet, but I want to stop it for as long as I can. I like my freedom, my autonomy. I can’t handle having some middle-aged man telling me what to do.
Then again, I thought Letta wouldn’t either. My sister is more compliant than I am, but she isn’t weak. She has a backbone. Day by day I see Michael stripping that from her.
I tighten my jaw.
I hate that fucker.
