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Well, that’s not ever going to happen.
“I’m not going to let you completely off the hook, though,” Axel continues, spinning a ring around his finger. “I want you to tell me where this one bag you’re aware of is located. And you’re to find the other five your father stole from me.”
“But, how am I supposed—”
“That’s not my problem,” he cuts me off, rolling down his sleeves. “You’re to find the bags and bring them to me. You have exactly one month from today, and if you haven’t followed through on your end of the bargain, there will be repercussions. Understand?”
Again, all I can do is nod.
“Good. While I like your feistiness, I’m glad you can be agreeable when you need to.” He grabs his jacket and slips it back on. “Amelia, Austin, and Liam will be keeping an eye on you over the next month to make sure you don’t flee. If you try, they will notify me, and you won’t get very far.” He starts for the door. “As I’m sure you’re realizing, the town of Honeyton is very loyal to me.”
In my personal opinion, they seem more loyal to August, but I’m not about to say that aloud.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to leave before I free it, but he pauses at the door and turns back toward me.
“Good luck, Hadley Harlyton. I really do hope you can succeed in this,” he says to me with a strange look on his face. A look that almost resembles compassion, but I’m probably misinterpreting it.
With one final strange look from Axel, he whirls around and strides out the door. And just as swiftly as all the ginormous men and woman blew into the house, they gust out, whisking away the tension with them.
“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe out, crouching down, my legs too shaky to hold me up anymore.
“Just take a deep breath,” Amelia instructs, tracing her hand up and down my back. “It’ll seem less bad in just a few minutes.”
Vomit burns the back of my throat, but I swallow it down as I stumble back to my feet.
“What the hell did you tell your father?” I demand.
“When?” she asks with an innocent smile.
“Don’t play stupid with me.” I inch toward her, loathing my tremulous voice. But the entire situation has me feeling like I’m walking on a frayed tightrope a hundred feet off the ground. The wind is blowing at me from the side and rain tears from the sky, everything around me working to push me down. “What did you tell him that made him decide to let me off the hook?”
“Are you really off the hook, though?” she implies with a lift of her brows.
I cross my arms and stare her down. “I don’t know. You tell me since you seem to know secret words that can convince your psychopath of a father to let me off easily.”
“You’ve got it all wrong,” she insists with a smile. “My father isn’t a psychopath.”
“Says the pot to the kettle.” I gesture at the kitchen where Austin is sprawled across the marble floor. “And how can you even say that when your brother might be lying over there, dying, because of your father.”
“My father didn’t do that. Nat did,” she replies simply. “And Austin isn’t dying.”
“You don’t know that for sure.” How can she be so cold and uncaring? Then again, Axel is her father.
Then again, my dad is my dad, so …
“Austin isn’t dying,” she repeats again, not even so much as glancing in his direction. “I know that for a fact.”
I wipe my damp palms on the side of my pants. “You haven’t even checked on him yet.”
“I don’t have to.” When I glare at her, she gives a blasé shrug. “It’s a twin thing.”
I’m starting to really believe crazy runs in their family.
“Besides,” Amelia says, tracing her finger along the string of pearls resting against her neckline, “why would you even care if he was dying? You don’t like him.”
“It still doesn’t mean I want to see him die.”
“Why?”
