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“Of course they wouldn’t bloody come, you stupid girl. It was a ridiculous thing to do! Do you have any idea how much danger you were in out in the world unprotected? Do you have any idea how worried we were? Your mother hasn’t slept in days, and you’d better be damn grateful for West. If it wasn’t for him, I would have called the consulate in Cairo and had all of his people knocking on doors until they found you!”
“I just wanted some time to myself, to feel like a normal person. Hattie gets to go off without protection,” I muttered, sounding like a sulking child.
“Harriet is not the daughter of an earl, nor does she stand to inherit a title and estate. She is not under the same level of threats as you are!”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake. I’m a lady, I’m not the heir to the bloody throne!” I snapped. “I’m not in any danger. There was one nutter when I was a kid, and you’ve kept me as a bloody prisoner my entire life. Get over it already!”
My father’s eyes bulged, and my mother finally looked up at him. Her face was pale, and she reached out a hand to him, but he shook it off.
“Get over it? Get over it?” He strode forward and grabbed my arm, then turned and pulled me towards the library.
It didn’t hurt, but he was definitely determined. I followed him as he dragged me up to his desk. He released my arm and sat down in his chair, leaning down and unlocking one of the drawers. He pulled out a large cardboard box, removed the lid, and upended it onto the desk. Papers flew everywhere.
“Have a look, Victoria. Have a really good look and then tell your father and mother to get over it.” He stood up and stalked out of the room, leaving me surrounded by papers. I leaned forward and picked up the top one. It was a letter composed of newspaper clippings.
BITCH WILL DIE.
I swallowed and picked up another one.
WE ARE COMING AND SHE WILL SUFFER.
Another.
THE HOLY FIRE WILL BURN HER FLESH FROM HER BONES.
I laid the letter back on the pile and sank down onto the nearest chair. I could barely breathe. There were so many, and I could tell some of them were old. A movement caught my eye, and I glanced up to see my mother taking another seat.
“How long?” I asked, looking back at the desk.
“Since you were seven. Constantly. These are only a few we kept after the police were done with them. Sometimes we’d get several a month, sometimes we would go for a few weeks without any.”
I looked over at her, feeling sick to my stomach. She was pale, but her face and voice were calm and composed as always.
“And the last one?” My mouth was dry, but I needed to know.
“Arrived while you were away.” She stood up and walked over to the desk, rifling through the letters until she pulled one out and handed it to me.
WE WILL NEVER STOP HUNTING HER. SHE WILL NOT RETURN TO YOU.
My grip on the letter tightened, the paper crackling under my fingers. Fear flooded my body, and I felt the shift beginning as my nails lengthened and sank into the letter. I took a shaky breath, trying to get it under control as the now familiar hunger began to grow inside.
“It wasn’t one kidnapping attempt either.”
My head snapped up, and I looked over at my mother. Her expression was still calm and composed, but there were tears in her eyes.
“There were more?”
She nodded. “When you were younger, there were several near misses, but West always managed to get to you in time, or your teachers who knew the score would contact us if something seemed unusual or suspicious. When you started secondary school, they even managed to recruit a teacher who tried to take you. Mrs Whitehall, do you remember her?”
I thought back. A vague memory of a teacher with brown hair and a navy skirt suit floated into my mind. “She... She offered to take me somewhere. I was upset that I hadn’t been allowed to go to someone’s birthday party at a theme park, and she offered to take me.” I remembered now. I had been so excited and was in tears when West showed up and forcibly removed me from her car.
My mother nodded and reached out to lay her hand on mine. “She disappeared right afterwards.”
“I thought Daddy had her fired.”
My mother shook her head. “No, she disappeared. They searched her house and found surveillance photos of you and notes on all your classes, your timetable, and your activities.”
I stared down at the piece of paper in my hand. “Was she writing the letters?”
