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“Why else would you be here if it’s not for her?”
“I didn’t say I wasn’t here for her.”
“So, you have come to collect!” My father’s triumphant exclamation is followed by a sharp thump, and I can just picture him slapping a hand against the top of his desk.
“No,” Theo’s voice has changed, a hard edge creeping into his easy cadence. “I am here to protect her. I know what happened, and I will not allow her to get caught in the crossfire should the sons decide to...retaliate.”
“Are you saying you aren’t intimately aware of the sons’ decisions?” My father says the word son with the same disgusted tone Theo used when he said collect.
“I have no allegiance to the MacAlister Brothers. My life is owed to the Father, and you know that.”
“Allegiances can change.”
“Not when it’s her life on the line, Edmund.”
“Her life doesn’t mean anything—ah!”
There’s a scraping sound punctuated by a resounding thud. The following silence is deafening, and I’m about to give up my hiding spot to see what the Hell is going on in the office when angry words fill the air.
“You will not devalue her. She is worth more than any of us, and you will do well to remember that. If you cannot manage it on your own, I would be happy to carve a reminder into your skin. Somewhere you can see it every day, so you never forget the only good thing you’ve ever done in your sorry fucking life is help bring that woman into this world.”
I have never heard Theo speak like that—as if every word is laced with venom and promise. Slowly, I back down the hall, my mind racing. It’s me. The thing Theo is insistent he isn’t here to “collect” is me. Why would he collect me? How would he collect me? I’m not owed to him. Am I?
“Dane.” His name comes out harsher than intended, but I know he’ll understand. “We have to go. Now.”
“Yep,” Dane rushes to join me in the kitchen doorway, not questioning the speed at which we move toward the driveway. Our mother trails behind, asking a million questions and generally causing a scene. Sure enough, her squawking and screeching draw my father and Theo from the office just in time for them all to watch Dane back out of the driveway. Theo’s eyes are locked on me. I can feel them like a physical touch, and I hate it.
“You gonna tell me why we got out of there so fast?”
“Did Dad sell me to someone?”
Dane nearly wrecks the car with how hard he jerks the wheel when he spins to face me. “What?”
“Did our father sell me?” I hold his gaze as the question sinks in, the dots visibly connecting in his mind. “Tell me what you know, Dane.”
“It isn’t much,” he admits, turning back toward the road as we leave our parents’ neighborhood.
“Start from the beginning.”
EIGHT
TORTURE
THEO
My phone doesn’t ring. It doesn’t even buzz. It just sits there, silent, with a black screen that all but screams her lack of response to the messages I’ve sent.
I snatch the phone off the dash and pull up the text thread for the hundredth time since I sent the last message. She hasn’t responded to any of them, but that doesn’t stop me from scrolling back to the top and reading them all like I can decipher her response from my own messages.
Theo
What happened? Where are you going?
Charity, please. Answer my calls.
Is this about your father?
I was going to explain after dinner.
