Page 222 of Johnny

worked to perfection, didn’t it?

Because I love her. We did bond. And we want to be together now.

And this new offer is really just… a checklist. Boxes to be ticked off. Maybe even… a rulebook of

sorts.

It’s something, at least. More than I had before this adventure started.

“And you did a brilliant job, Johnny,” my mother continues. “Well done.” Her eyes are locked on

mine. “If I had told you that you were going to be paired up and married off to a complete stranger

and expected to produce a child within one year, what would you have said?”

I sigh.

“That’s right. You’d have told us all to go to hell.”

Has she been watching me all this time? Did she, somehow, hear my conversation with Charlotte

Kane back at her tenth birthday party? Hear me reject her?

Or does she just know me that well because I’m a part of her?

“And now?” my mother asks.

I look over at Megan, reach for her hand, and bring it into my lap. Unable to imagine my life

without her. There is no going back. No matter what happened here today, there’s no way to turn back.

Then I look back at my mother and say, “I love her.”

“You love her,” she whispers. “And you will love that child too, Johnny. I promise you. Even

though it’s an order and you must follow it, you will still love that child. You will protect it, and care

for it, and keep it safe for as long as you live. We’re counting on you to do that. Can you do that?”

I nod and swallow. “I can.”

“Good,” she says. Leaning back in her chair. “Now. I only have one more question.” She snaps her

fingers and Samuel appears again. This time handing my mother a stack of photographs. She places

them on the table and pushes them towards me. “Do you recognize any of these people?”

I pick up the photos and look at the one on top.

A man. Covered in tattoos. Chains around his neck and shoulders. Dogs snarling on his arms.

Nearly shaved head. A look in his eyes that only says one thing.

This guy is insane.

And for a moment I wonder if that’s what people see when they look at me?

“Do you?” my mother prods.