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She doesn’t answer again.
“She’s not coming back,” I tell Daddy.
His shoulders slump as he looks at me blankly. “I’m dead.”
I glance at my phone screen to see the time. “It’s six thirty,” I say. “The wedding isn’t until two.”
Daddy sits up, looking at me expectantly. “Yes.”
Carina will think of something. She will fix this.
He believes the same thing. That I’ll find a way. It annoys me to no end that I’m trying to do just that.
“How fast can you pack?” I ask, the wheels in my head spinning faster than ever.
“Why?”
“If you want to live, you will get whatever shit you can’t live without and pack it. Then we’re leaving.”
“Leaving?” He shakes his head. “What about my house? My things?”
“You either go with me, or you end up six feet under. It doesn’t matter which you choose,” I say, already gathering some of my belongings from my drawer. “One way or another, you’re going to leave all of this behind.”
I don’t have to tell him again. He’s on his feet, rushing to the attic. Through the ceiling, I can hear him rummaging, tossing stuff, and running from spot to spot.
While he searches for his valued possessions, I dig through my closet for luggage. I find only one brown bag that isn’t so tattered, I’d have to tape it together.
But just as I’m pulling it out, something outside catches my attention. I go to the window, push aside the sheer curtain slightly, and peer down at the street. There are two SUVs parked in front of the house and a man standing at the end of our walkway.
Luca’s men.
I take a step back, my mind reeling. Then I turn on my heel and fly down the stairs to look out the kitchen window. Another man is standing there, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt that looks one size too small. His hands are clasped in front of him as he scans the backyard like some fucking bouncer waiting for trouble at a club.
How long have they been there? Obviously not long enough to have stopped Alma from leaving. Or did they? Did Luca expect my sister to attempt an escape?
“Shit,” I whisper.
A knock on the front door spins me around to face it, though I can’t see it from here. There’s another knock, and my heart leaps into my throat.
I force my legs to move me to the foyer. Then, with a shaky hand, I reach for the knob and open the door to find a man who I assume is one of Luca’s grinning at me.
Though he’s dressed in a black tuxedo that fits him to perfection, his short dark hair clean-cut, he gives off that same dangerous aura that Luca has. It could be the tattoos that cover the exposed bits of deeply tanned skin like his neck and hands or the slash across his thick brow. But I think it’s something beyond that. He gives off a sense of deadliness that not even his handsome face or beautiful smile can hide.
“Hello,” he says and glances between a photo in his hand and me. “Alma?”
My gaze falls to the picture as well. It’s one of my twin that she must have given Luca. “No. I’m Carina. Her sister.”
“Ah. I’m Gunn.”
“Gun?” I ask, finding the name oddly fitting.
“With twon’s,” he says. “I wanted to let you know we’ll be out here should you need anything.” He peeks over my shoulder, and I automatically close the door a little. “Is Miss Alma up?”
“Uh…” I swallow hard. “Yes. She just woke up.”
He narrows his eyes as if he perceives my frazzled nerves, which makes me even more nervous. “All right. If you need anything, let me know.”
“The wedding planner will be here at ten,” I say in an attempt to sound casual.
