Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84013 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Like I’m nothing more than a piece of furniture heading to the flea market.
“You can’t do this,” I say, looking back at Dad. “You can’t do this! I won’t do it! Dad, please!”
He stares at me for one long moment, his face pained, before he turns away.
“You coward!” I scream. “Look at me while you sell me, you fucking coward!”
“Enough,” Aiden snaps and yanks hard. I nearly fall down the last step, and when I catch myself, I turn on him.
“Fuck you, you sick asshole. You’re all twisted. You’re supposed to be my brother. What is wrong with you? I won’t marry this guy, I won’t do it. I’m going to—”
Aiden slaps me hard across the face.
I gasp in shock. I stare at him, my hand against the throbbing, stinging mass of my cheek, and he clenches his jaw.
“You’ve been coddled for long enough. You will obey, Daley, or I promise your new husband will make sure you do. Father was being kind in there. We won’t protect a mouthy little bitch like you for a second longer.” He pulls me by the arm again, and this time I trail after him, too shocked by the slap and his words to do anything.
He shoves me into the back and climbs in next. The driver starts the car and drives without being told.
I sit there in stunned silence. Aiden slapped me and called me a mouthy bitch, and now they’re selling me to someone. They’re giving me away tonight. It’s like my entire world is crumbling right around me. My mind ranges back to that overheard conversation, and my blood goes utterly cold as a chill rips down my spine.
We need to move up our plan. Dad said that to Aiden just last night.
This is their plan.
My marriage. My doom. That list was always bullshit. It was just a distraction. They have a better use for me, and now that I’ve made a little too much trouble, they’re sending me away so I can’t do any more damage.
They know something about Queenie, and whatever it is, they’re willing to sell me for it.
I was on to something. God, I was so close, and now my life’s over.
Anger boils away the chill and I look at my brother. My brother, my flesh and blood. We grew up together, and now he stares straight ahead like I’m nothing.
“Why do you hate me so much?” I ask quietly, barely suppressing my anger. I want to tear out his eyes and rip his throat with my teeth.
He snorts once. “I don’t hate you, Daley. I barely think about you.”
“Liar. You said I have what you wanted, but that can’t be it. That’s not enough to explain why you’re like this.”
“You’re a liability,” he snaps, glaring at me. “You have no clue what this family is doing. You stumble around with a smile, utterly naive, unthinking, stupid. You’re going to ruin everything, but I won’t let that happen. It’s time you sacrificed like we all sacrificed. Nobody gives a fuck about you, Daley, not since Megan died, so shut your mouth and do your duty and maybe your life will have some purpose.”
I stare at him and lunge forward.
I try to punch him in the face, but he catches my wrist and twists. I struggle, trying to hit him, but he shoves me back and slaps me again. This time I sit there seething, glaring at him, the futility of this welling up in my chest like a blackness.
“Do it again,” he says, baring his teeth. “Go ahead. Give me an excuse. Your new husband won’t mind if his wife’s a little broken in first.”
“Fuck you.”
“Shut your mouth and make this easy on yourself.” He shakes his head and glares at me. “You’ve been given so many choices your whole damn life, and you consistently choose the wrong thing. For once in your life, choose better. Shut your mouth.”
He sits back, and I slump down, staring out the window. I press my face against the cold glass as tears roll down my cheeks.
The restaurant is in a neighborhood on the edge of town in a nondescript strip mall next to a grocery store. The lights are all off, but I can make out the name—Anatolia’s Garden. I frown, not sure what this place is supposed to be, as Aiden yanks open the door. The driver goes in first, a big guy clearly packing a gun and brought along for some protection.
“Go,” Aiden says and I follow the driver inside.
It smells spicy and warm. The scent of roasting meat hangs heavy and delicious. My mouth waters and my stomach rumbles. I realize I’m hungry and haven’t eaten in a few hours. I expected an actual dinner, not this farce.
There’s no hostess up front. The floor is a black-and-white checkered linoleum, and the booths and seats are all in a dark blue upholstery. The tables are dark wood, rectangular, and flowers hang from the walls and ceiling like light fixtures. It’s oddly beautiful, except the place is deserted—the chairs are all up and the floors are swept clean.