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“But…why? If you have all the power, why wouldn’t you stop this? Why wouldn’t you go to the police? How can you be okay with any of this?”
“I have nothing to go back to, Mae. My own family put me into this life. Dad couldn’t live without Mom. Period. We were dispensable to him if it meant saving her. These people were more a family to me than you guys ever were. I’m sorry, but I have no desire to stop what I’m doing. I’m good at it. I have respect here. I’m taken care of.”
Good at it.The statement rolls over me slowly as I struggle to process everything I’m being told. How can he possibly believe that? How can he care about having respect if this is what it takes to get it? I know…I knowI shouldn’t expect him to be rational. I know I can’t begin to fathom the things he’s been through, the things he’s seen over the years, but still… I can’t make myself accept that this person standing in front of me saying such monstrous things can be the same person I’ve spent my life mourning. The brother I’ve held on a pedestal all my life. The boy I’ve wanted to make proud, to do right by. The boy I planned to name my first child after. How is any of this real? How can he be here? How can he do this?
How can he believe any of this is okay?
Because if he believes it’s okay, there must be nothing good left in him. No parts of the boy who used to draw sunsets with chalk on our sidewalk, no parts of the boy who watched Saturday morning cartoons with me and loved the kind of gum that you could use to tattoo your tongue. That’s the boy I remember.
But, if he’s so bad, so evil that he could live with this version of himself, this version of reality… “Then why save me?” I demand. “Why tell me any of this?”
He looks away, appearing almost annoyed with his answer. “Because I couldn’t let them take you. Once I heard about this deal, I had to stop it, but I couldn’t tell them not to take you. If you were tipped off, or if you went back home, Dad would just try again. This was the only way I could save you. So, now you see why you can’t go home. Not ever. It’s not safe. He has to believe you’re gone for good. That his plan worked.”
It doesn’t make sense. Dad has never been anything but perfect to me. Loving. Supportive. We talk daily. He’s one of the four people I’m closest to in the world. How could he do this to me? How could he just give me away? Never see me again? Hand me off to these monsters? He was the one who interrogated my dates as a teen, and now he was willing to give me away? For God knows what to happen to me? How could he be okay with that?
I clutch my stomach, not sure what part of me hurts more.
“Mom’s sick again…” I whisper in answer to my own questions. “Even with insurance, there’s a lot that isn’t covered.”
“And there always will be. At least this way, you’re safe.”
I look up at him, my tears making his face a blurred mosaic of colors and shapes. “You protected me when they wouldn’t.”
“You’re my sister, Mae. I protected you back then, and I’ll protect you always. Any chance I get.”
I lean forward, begging him. “Come back with me. Please, Danny. I need you. We can tell the police everything. We can stop this. Together.”
“No,” he says, looking away. “No, I told you. I’m not going back.”
“Because you said there’s nothing to go back to, but there is. Me.I’mhere. I willbehere.”
He puts his hands to his temples, shaking his head. “You’re not going back either. Aren’t you hearing me? I won’t let you. I didn’t go through all of this just to send you back out there. Just for him to send someone else after you. Someone I can’t protect you from. A ring I can’t intervene in.”
“Then you’re no better than he is!” I cry, stomping my foot on the concrete floor. “You’re holding me prisoner, too. I have to go back. I have a husband. A best friend. They need me.”
“It’s final, Mae.” He waves both hands out to his sides like an umpire callingsafe.“You may not like it, but I am the boss here. If you don’t pick a place, I’ll drop you off somewhere by yourself. But you aren’t going home. I didn’t risk all of this to put you right back with that monster.”
“I won’t let you do this.”
“I’m not asking permission,” he snaps. My jaw drops open, but I can find no words or will to argue. I drop my head, refusing to look at him. After a few moments, he turns and storms out of the room, leaving me alone to process my entire world imploding.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN
BLAKE
As the sun sets on the horizon, thunder rumbles overhead, and I begin to second-guess my decision.
With each passing hour, I realize what a mistake this might’ve been. Not only am I doing exactly what Diego seems to want me to do by running and making myself look guiltier than I already do, but I also have no true idea where I’m going or if this island even exists. For all I know, Zach made it all up. And, despite my plot to trick Florence earlier, I have an empty gas can and no plans for where to stop for gas or supplies should I need them.
Soon enough, someone will report this boat as stolen, if they haven’t already, and then I’ll be arrested, both for stealing this boat—which Ididdo—and murdering my wife—which I will go to my grave swearing I didn’t. And, to top it all off, I appear to be heading directly into a storm.
I want to think I’ll be okay, that I can be smart about this and navigate around the storm somehow, but as the rain begins to pour, I know I’m completely and utterly fucked.
My phone battery is on thirteen percent, and I haven’t had service in hours. I slow the boat down as the waves become rocky. I could go off course slightly to try to avoid the storm, but will I end up lost?
The map I have isn’t exactly to scale, but even if it was, I’m not used to reading maps that aren’t voiced by robots giving me specific, spoken directions. If I get lost and my phone dies while I’m off course, there’s no telling where I’ll end up.
Another wave hits the boat, and I grab hold of the wheel to keep myself inside the vessel. When I’ve regained my footing, I tighten my life jacket.
