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Isabella
Last night I learned that my life has been handed over to Maddox Braddock, the son of a powerful mob boss in Hannibal. Maddox is a man I never once pictured spending my life with and I still can’t; especially, given I have no say in the matter. I am trapped in obscurity and my dad’s bloody torment.
I should have run away when I had the chance. I was on the road; it would’ve taken them days to find me; that’s to say if they even could. How long would it have taken me to figure out that there was a tracker in the car? Probably, a shorter time than it took for Maddox to get into the King’s good graces.
Now, I’m stuck; locked in the shit show of some grand scheme. It won’t last long, though. I refuse to be another plaything, moved around and manipulated just to further the Romani family’s dark dealings. They’re all bastards and brawlers trying to find an easy fortune.
I will spread my wings and fly, no matter the risks or consequences. All I have to do is bide my time, prepare an escape from this hell hole, and disappear into the wide-open world. But, giving it time is the hardest part. Slow and steady wins the race they say, but does that apply to every situation? Does intelligence factor into it at all? There are far too many variables to be able to answer any question easily about what’s right or wrong in this situation.
That’s why I have to let them believe I’m willing to accept it. If they think I’m on board, they won’t second guess any of my actions; visits to the mall, drawing out cash, preparing for my journey. It will all look like a normal day out in their eyes.
That doesn’t mean I’m not going to raise a little hell along the way, though. I’m strong-spirited – always have been – and always will be. If I divert from my social norms now, it might turn some heads. I have to be careful not to raise suspicion in the meantime.
When you’ve got a fish on the hook, you have to ease up on the slack. Let it swim so the line doesn’t break. That’s all this is. Keeping them hooked, until I catch them off guard.
There’s a bitter taste in my mouth as I sit in my dad’s office. His enormous ash-wood desk stretches before me, awaiting his arrival. It’s littered with ornaments, trinkets, files, and paperwork. My dad never succumbed to the modern age and he let technology fall by the wayside. He keeps everything on paper, often burning the notes and files; destroying any evidence before it can be used against him.
A crackling fire in one corner of the office fills the room with warmth and the stink of burning timber. A low light illuminates the space, barely breaking the darkness. A picture of me is on the mantelpiece; my hair tied up in pigtails and a wide brimming smile on my face. I have a few teeth missing where the baby ones fell out and the new ones were still to replace them. I can’t be any older than six years old.
I don’t remember it being taken. Life was simple back then, youthful years when ignorance was bliss. I had no obligations or sense of the world’s cruelty. Seeing the photo causes an unsettling rumble in my belly. How can he do this to me? How can he pretend he loves me when he’s handing me off to the highest bidder?
“Alright, Lucio. I’m going to need some time to settle my affairs and get you the information you requested,” my dad’s voice distracts me from the photo. I clear my throat as he pushes through the doorway, a cell phone against his ear. “Maybe you and Maxwell should come by in the morning so we can discuss Quinc—”
My dad breaks off his conversation when he spots me. He shoots me a bulletproof smile; smug and full of self-satisfaction. He holds it a while, before continuing speaking. “We can discuss this problem, then,” he changes the sentence.
Problem? Quincy? I can only assume it’s Quincy Harrison he’s talking about. Perhaps the small settlement, up the Mississippi, but I’m not going to put much weight into the thought of it. It’s Family drama. I’m here to discuss matters of blood, not loyalty.
“Wonderful. See you then,” my dad finishes after Lucio’s unheard reply, and then he cuts the call.
“Isabella, what a lovely surprise,” he says making his way over to where I’m sitting. He stops beside me, opening his arms for a hug.
I don’t give it to him.
“You can’t be fucking serious?” My blood is boiling and rage fills my words. It’s the first time we’ve seen each other since his announcement. I’ve avoided him all day, thinking of how this conversation would go. But it has to be had.
Dad’s arms sink to his side. He walks over to a shelf beside the fire; pulls open one of the cupboards, and draws out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He pours a random amount of the golden liquid into each, before sitting down opposite me and setting a glass in front of me.
“What’s got you so bothered?” Much like his smile, his words hold the same satisfaction. He knows why I’m here. He just wants to hear me say it. The way he pretends he’s not handing me off makes my skin crawl.
“I’m not marrying Maddox Braddock,” I say. I don’t touch the glass of liquor. Dad’s already halfway through his.
“Why not?” He crooks a brow.
What kind of question is that? He’s looking at me as if I’m crazy for fighting this decision. As if I should be on board with it, nodding my head and saying Yes, Sir like one of his dogs; as Maddox does. Everyone’s always happy to give in and accept whatever decision The King makes.
Not me.
“You can’t seriously be asking me that?” I stare him down. I am his daughter after all and he doesn’t have the monopoly on harsh looks in our family.
“Why not?” He shrugs his shoulders. Dad looks genuinely confused, as if this is a normal thing to do. The repetition of his question, without an answer, only aggravates me more.
“You’re taking away the only thing I have left,” I spit. “You’re sacrificing my freedom for a life I want no part of.”
“Sacrificing your freedom…” he repeats, steepling his fingers in front of his face, as he mulls over my words. His eyes drift left and right, and he nods and shakes his head while he deliberates what to say next.
“Isabella, you know that everything I do in this life is for you. It’s never an easy decision to make, especially when it involves kin. I’m not sacrificing your freedom. I’m ensuring your safety. This world has always hated people like us. They call us filth, scum, devious monsters looking to burn it down. But that’s not what we are.”
