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Father’s mouth twitched. “You’re right. Sign them or don’t. You’ll leave for a year, maybe two, then come back because you enjoy the killing and the power it gives you. You can’t help yourself. Whether you believe it or not, you are our best heir.”

I scoffed, shaking my head as I lit my cigarette. “Raven was meant to be heir, not me.”

“And he’s not here, is he?”

“Mm, right.” Smoke curled from my mouth as I said, “You don’t let me forget it.”

“You should be thankful that’s all I remind you of.”

Just like with Raven’s death, Father blamed me for Mother’s. Four days after he told her Raven had died in the field, she’d cursed his name and mine before taking her own life. She’d blamed me, mostly, for allowing their heir to die, as if the rest of her children didn’t matter.

Father rose from his position at the edge of his desk and met me in two long strides. We stood nearly eye to eye, his mouth turning into a sad smile as he looked behind me. He fixed his attention on the shelves before sliding his eyes back.

“Whether you leave or not,” he said quietly, “you will always belong to the Crowes. Despite what you say, I know you like it here. Grave is still far too young to take over—he hasn’t seen or done what you have. Only the most ruthless can run our empire. Take the time you need to get level with yourself, and when you come back, it’ll be ready for you. So, you will trade Sutton before you leave here. Understood?”

He spoke with conviction, fully believing every word that spilled from his hateful mouth. All it did was send a bout of anger through me, because little did he know, I had no intention of ever coming back.

Once I left, I would never step foot into Vancouver again. I’d never look into his eyes and wish I didn’t see myself in them. I’d never be reminded of all my wrong doings and the people I had failed. Even if I left with the intention of never returning, it wouldn’t prevent him from tracking me down and dragging me back.

I took another drag from my cigarette and mindlessly nodded. I knew with such clarity that I would have to die in order to escape this fucking place. That death was an option. Perhaps my mother had been the only smart person among the Crimson Crowes, and for that, I envied her.

I smiled tightly. “Fine. I’ll hand her over if that’s what it takes to earn a couple of years away. Who knows, maybe I’ll come back as a new man.”

25

SUTTON

The entire car ride back to the penthouse was silent.

I watched Manic out of the corner of my eye, deep within the shadows, working his jaw and clenching his fists the whole time. It was like a timed mantra: open, close, repeat.

I buzzed with nervous energy, too afraid to speak.

By the time we pulled into the garage, my adrenaline had faded, but my body was wracked with unimaginable weariness. My ear still throbbed, but it was much better than before after Ronan’s nurse had looked at it. The poor woman had been woken up in the middle of the night, her eyes tired and droopy. To ease my ache, she gave me a few pain killers and—since the damage wasn’t permanent—said I would heal in a few days.

The moment our car rolled to a stop, Manic flung his door open. I climbed out after him, my palms sweaty, and followed as he slammed the door shut and turned for the elevator.

Axell stepped out when Manic called over his shoulder, “You’re dismissed.”

“Manic,” Axell started.

“Get some sleep.” Manic stopped halfway and turned, eyes blazing at his security before sliding back to me. “If she tries to escape, I’ll punish her myself. She’s due for one anyway.”

I swallowed a shocked squeak when Manic wrapped his hand around my arm, urging me toward the elevator. I stumbled as he ushered me inside. His shoulders tensed as he stood rigid beside me, and the elevator slowly ascended. My pulse climbed with each level up. Manic stared ahead and flexed his hands again: open, close, repeat.

“What did your father say?” I asked, my voice thin.

Instead of answering, Manic briskly walked past when doors whispered open, his steps fading down the hall. Angry, hard steps. Despite my nerves for whatever punishment Manic had in store for me, my frustrations from his deliberate silence rose. I chased his heels with panted breaths.

“Why does Dmitri want me?” I pressed—louder this time. “Did your father punish you? Me? Are you going to say anything to me?”

He whirled, his lip curled back. “Why did you get out of the car? I told you to stay out of the way.”

“I—”

“There was a reason I told you to stay in the fucking car, Hale, and you disobeyed me.” He inched closer, and I swallowed again, a shudder rippling down my back. His nostrils flared. “The next time I give you an order, I expect you to listen.”

I thought of what trouble I might have caused for him and held my tongue. To anyone else, I was simply the daughter of Luka Hale, used for coercion.