Page 80 of Arranged Devotion
“Never. Again.” His lip curls. “I don’t care who you married. You’re still my daughter, and you will respect me.”
I want to fight him. I want to rage. But instead, like always, I drop my gaze to the floor and nod grimly. “Yes, Dad.”
“Leave now.”
I turn on my heel and flee.
Pathetic. God, so pathetic. I shut his door behind me and slump against the wall, breathing hard. Sweat beads my skin. I wanted to stand up to him, to insist that he did something good for once in his life, that he protected someone important instead of using them for his own personal gain, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to, I really did, but my whole life’s been spent keeping my mouth shut.
I crumbled.
God, I hate myself.
I stagger away toward the foyer. My head’s spinning. I almost don’t notice Luke standing in the shadows of the stairs, near the front door, talking on the phone. I can’t hear him, but he’s whispering rapidly.
Which is odd. He’s acting strangely. I don’t recognize the phone he’s using either. It’s black and one of those flip models from forever ago. His main device is an iPhone, so what’s he need that one for?
I’m about to call out when he hangs up. The grim, vacant stare, clearly lost in thought as he shoves the strange phone away in his pocket, gives me pause.
Why’s he out of bed? What’s he even doing?
He opens the door and leaves the house before I can tell him to stop.
This makes no sense. He’s clearly hurt and in pain. Luke’s not the type to go storming off when he needs rest. When he was younger, he slept in every morning and moaned when Mom dragged him out of bed. He cried when he stubbed his toes or fellon the playground, sometimes inconsolably. Colds knocked him out and he acted like every sniffle was the plague come to end his life.
Now he’s running out with serious injuries?
I don’t get it. I barely know my brother anymore, I realize. Slowly, subtly, by small pieces, over the years he changed into… a stranger.
A Whelan soldier.
And nobody cares but me, not my mother, not my father, sure as hell nobody else in the world.
I feel him slipping away, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
CHAPTER 22
LIAM
Rain drives in from the south. Cold wind comes first followed by a drizzle until the damn sky opens up, pouring water across New York. I like the way it washes off the stink and sheens the streets in puddles.
It’s also good for cleaning away blood.
“You didn’t have to come with me.” I stay tucked into an alcove in a quiet alleyway. Manhattan’s dark around us. Most people are hiding indoors if they can.
Finn remains focused on the far entrance. “They attacked my family.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Do you?” He’s usually so light. That’s the face he shows the world, anyway. I know him better though. This darkness, the anger twitching the corner of his eye, that’s always inside of him. “What if Caroline had been there?”
“She wasn’t. None of the women were.”
“Did they know that?”
“They might’ve.”
“No, I don’t think they knew that for sure. Baranov sent his killers, and then he sent his sneering fucking son.”
