Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Rafael,” I cried. “Cato. Lucien. Wilder. Where are they? What did she do to them!”
“She let them go shortly after your home on campus was reduced to a pile of charred wood and melted appliances.”
The man pulled various items out of the fridge and began preparing my sandwich. We looked to be in one big living room—complete with couches, television, kitchenette, and eating area. Outside, there were lounges, a hot tub, and no signs of how far from home these men had taken me.
“Leon confirmed they were safe before bringing you to me.”
“Why would he bring me to you?” I snapped. “Why would he bring me anywhere? Take me back!” The shout was a knife through my sore chest. “I need to see the guys. I have to make sure they’re okay.”
“Okay is exactly what they won’t be if you get near them.” He set to work cutting avocado, slicing tomatoes, and chopping red onions. “Think it through, Luna. They were spared because you died. If it’s discovered you’re still alive and Leon didn’t keep up his end of the deal, Starling has no reason to keep up hers.”
“Everleigh’s not going to touch them because she’ll be too busy having her head bashed in. Now, whoever the hell you are, stop messing around with avocados and turn this boat toward Regalia. I’m going home. Now.”
He smiled through my berating, his eyes getting softer as my voice climbed higher. “Goodness, you look just like your mother.”
I started, moving back again. Was there a better way to trap someone than by boat? “You don’t know my mother.”
“Don’t I?” he asked, amused. “Pretty sure I know Eloise Sinclair better than anyone.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re nuts.”
He laughed. “Don’t know a single person who isn’t. Mustard, mayo, or both?”
My glare drilled a hole in his head. He laughed harder.
“Definitely Eloise’s daughter.” My sandwich done, he made one for himself and brought it to the table. He gestured again for me to join him. “You saw me make it yourself. It’s safe.”
“Doesn’t mean you are.”
He shrugged, taking a bite. “Leon wouldn’t risk everything to save your life just to bring you to someone who meant you harm.”
I tried to wriggle out of that logic, and couldn’t. Moving slowly, I claimed the seat across from him and picked up the sandwich. My stomach was growling too loudly for me to protest further.
“Who are you?”
“Haven’t you guessed? Leon heard what she said to you before he fired.”
My voice was calm. “You’re going to say you’re my father.”
“I am your father, Luna.”
I gazed out the window—quiet as I ate my sandwich. A moment like that, a million thoughts should go through your head with even more questions. Who are you? Where have you been my whole life? Why did Mom refuse to tell us anything about you? Why were you here now?
All of them good questions, but there was only one I needed to know.
“Why weren’t you at the funeral?” I asked flatly. “Do you not care about us? Did you not care about Winter?”
His smile melted away, and in its place was naked pain. “Of course I care about you. Both of you. You’re my daughters.”
“So why weren’t you there?”
“Your mother decided it would just be family. If I showed up, she’d have to explain who I was to you, and she wasn’t ready to do that. She allowed me a private moment before the funeral to say goodbye, and I’ll forever be grateful.”
“Why didn’t she want us to know you? Is it because you rack up the kind of enemies who plot and murder and burn people alive to get to you?”
He sighed, giving up all attempts at finishing his food. “The answer to that isn’t as simple as you think.”
“Didn’t you bring me here to give me answers?”
“I brought you here because you’re in danger, and I won’t lose another daughter. If there was any other choice, I’d still be a question mark in the back of your mind.”
“Oh, gee, sorry, Daddy. Didn’t mean to inconvenience you.” I shoved away and stormed off, making for the windowless room I woke up in.
“Shit. Wait! That didn’t come out right. Luna? Luna, please,” he cried. “I’ll tell you everything.”
I slowed, pausing on the first step.
“The whole truth. If by the end of it you still think I’m an asshole... then it’s no more than I deserve.”
I froze—torn between leaving and staying. I did deserve an explanation, but I wasn’t stupid enough to believe it’d be a happy or positive one. How many more awful truths was I supposed to handle, one after the other?
My sister was driven to suicide because of a purple fucking flag? The person behind it was staring me in the face for months. There was still so much I didn’t know about my guys, including if they were truly okay. Wasn’t the smart move to just crawl in bed and stay there until the world wasn’t so impossible to handle?