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2.Continue playing Pray for Me
Chapter 22
Née Luciano
Effie
Myfathertookmedirectly to one of his safe houses from the farm and threw me in this room.1The deadbolt in the door turns, snapping me from my riveting game of counting bricks on the wall. It’s a newly installed deadbolt, I assume to be able to lock me in from the outside. One of his soldiers was outfitting the door and another was removing everything from the room except for the mattress I’m sitting on.
Either they are exceptionally confident in my lock-picking skills, or they know what they have planned is at risk of making me suicidal. Honestly, it could be both.
My father enters the room and looks down on me on the bare mattress with disgust, as if he wasn’t the one who put me here. “You’re getting married.”
My first reaction is to laugh. “I feel like we’ve done this before,” I say.
“Don’t be cute, Euphemia. You have continued to fuck up every opportunity I’ve given you. This is your last chance. You’ll be marrying the youngest Campbell son—”
I shoot to my feet. “Are you trying to get me killed? Hudson almost murdered me for being seen with another man—and we weren’t even engaged! They’ll finish the job he started if they find out what really happened.” I feel like a roasted pig offered up with an apple in my mouth.
My father doesn’t even flinch. “Then you better ensure they never find out. The governor only suspects Fox, make sure it stays that way.”
The mention of Finn is like being doused with ice cold water. “What’s going to happen to him?” I knew my father had sway with powerful people, but I never realized that he could make my marriage to Finn disappear in the blink of an eye. Will the Campbells compel me to testify against Finn without the protection of spousal privilege? The thought makes my stomach churn.
“What do you care?” He squints at me. “Don’t tell me you fell for the Irish bastard? I guess you did spend a lot of time together out in that ramshackle hut. I thought he’d never leave.” He tuts, and I try to piece together his words.
“You were waiting until he left to confront me at the farm?”
He scoffs. “Wasted fucking hours just for him to kick you to the curb anyway. I don’t know why I bothered, you’re as goddamn useless as ever. At least now you won’t be able to fuck anything up as long as you’re locked up ’til the wedding.”
I can feel him slamming the door by the violent vibrations in my ribcage.
And just like that, as if the last few weeks never happened, the game continues. My father is vying for more power and connections, and using my hand in marriage to do it. I wonder if he’ll ever realize his own greed keeps getting us into these situations.
The only reason my father decided to threaten the decade-long truce with the Fox family was due to his own greed. When he orchestrated my marriage to Finn, he wasn’t satisfied with being connected to one of the most powerful crime families. No, he made it clear that despite the marriage, our objective hadn’t changed. We were still going after the cache.
I was so mad at Finn, so livid at myself, so exhausted and traumatized by everything, that I went along with my father’s plot. I saw the photograph of the shelter and sent it to my father, saying it was a potential to explore.
When Finn took me to the cache, I realized what a bomb that one photo would end up being. I knew at that moment that I would eventually break his heart. I never guessed that moment of curiosity in the hallway would become this liability for our relationship. He asked for my loyalty and honesty, and selfishly, I promised him something I’d never be able to give.
That small mistake became like a neglected hangnail that festered into a deadly infection. I knew I’d messed up beyond repair with Finn. But I thought I’d try, even if it was a fool’s errand.
The governor was the biggest threat to our future. Spousal privilege or not, as long as he was trying to solve his son’s murder, Finn and I were never going to be safe. A corrupt politician with criminal connections is a formidable opponent and he was ready to knock down our door.
When I killed Hudson, I put a target on his back. I owed it to him—tous—to fix this. We were being hunted from both sides. The governor trying to find his son, and my father still intent on destroying our decade-long truce to get to the cache. I thought I could hold my father off for the time being but I knew moves had to be made to eliminate the governor and the constant threat he posed.
I lay back on the mattress and trace the cracks in the ceiling with my gaze. I am both exhausted to the bone and humming with uncontainable energy. I can’t stop thinking about my phone and the message I left for Finn.
Did he find it? DidLes Arnaqueusesfill him in on our plan? Are they going to finish the new plan we put into motion?
Does any of it even matter when I’m marrying the brother of the man I killed?
The turning deadbolt startles me, and I sit up, on constant alert. One of my father’s soldiers enters. He sets a bowl of minestrone in front of me on the floor. No silverware. Not even a spoon.Do they really think I’m going to be able to get out of a room four-stories up with nothing but a spoon?
“Have they picked a date?” I ask.
He nods. “In four days.”
2Four days later, I’m staring at my reflection dressed in white. I feel and look hollow. My usually full cheeks that now look slack from nothing but soup for five days. The bags under my eyes are dark and pronounced despite my mother’s best effort. She loops a string of pearls around my neck and clasps it in the back. It feels like the noose of a condemned man.
