Page 11 of Wicked Brutal

“I can’t.”

“Why?” She pressed her lips together, and I stepped closer — and she stepped back. I stopped immediately, and that did something ugly to my stomach. “Are you scared of me?”

“No.”

“Then who?” Silence. “Roman?” Her face drained, and that wasn’t an answer, but it was enough of one. “What did he do?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Ally.”

“Nothing.”

“You’re shaking.”

She looked down at her hands and tucked them against herself. “Please let me go.”

I should’ve. Instead I said, “You told me you trusted me.”

Her eyes filled. “I do.”

“Then tell me what the fuck happened.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only person I trust.” She said it like it hurt, and I stared at her.

“That makes no sense.”

“I know.” She covered her face, and when she dropped her hands she was crying. Quietly. “I wasn’t supposed to care about you.”

My anger drained out of me. Not completely. Enough. “Why?”

“Because my father already decided who I’m going to marry.”

I didn’t understand. “What?”

“Victor Tremblay.”

The name landed differently now — the photographs, his hand on her waist, the way she’d looked down at it. “Why the fuck would you marry Tremblay?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Good.”

“My father doesn’t care what I want.”

“You’re eighteen.”

“Yes.”

“He can’t force you to marry somebody.”

“No.” She wiped her cheek. “But he can keep Tobias.”

That shut me up. “What does Toby have to do with it?”