“Jack!” I hiss, grinding my teeth together and closing my eyes to try and regain my self-control. I rub my temples, hoping this is some nightmare I am going to wake up from at any moment. When I open my eyes, everything is still the same.
I hate that Jack has gotten us here. Tears sting my eyes. God, I am so tired of trying to hold everything together, of being the adult and saving him every time he falls, juggling everything he throws my way. But I can't lose him.
“Please.” A single tear escapes, burning its way down my cheek. I hate myself for showing any sort of weakness, especially in front of Malachi and his thugs. He isn't the kind of man to scoop up my tears and free me of my sadness. He would put the tear to his lips and taste its saltiness, savour the taste of my pain as if it’s the finest wine.
“What's done is done. Your father knows his only payment left is red,” Malachi says with finality, his voice stony, void of any emotion, as he tilts his head as if bored with the situation.
The blood drains from my face and I draw in a severe breath, my hand reaching out, grabbing onto the back of Jack’s chair to stop my knees from buckling as my body sways. The pain of reality hit me, the truth in his words sitting on my chest, making every breath raw, unbearable. Payment in red means his blood. This is it. I’m going to lose the only family I have left.
They are going to kill him. Take him away so I’ll never see him again.
The police will ring in a few days, saying they found a body. His body. I’ll have to go and identify him, bury him alone. That’s if Malachi decides not to bury my dad in some unmarked grave I will never find. Or are they going to do it here, in front of me, make me watch as they steal Jack's last breath?
I bring my hand to my chest to try and rub the pain away, blinking back the tears that hang on my lashes, desperate to fall. “No.” I shake my head, reaching my hand out toward Malachi, before pulling it back. “Please.”
I hate that my voice quivers, but I don’t care that I’m begging. I will fall to my knees if it stops them from hurting Jack. My eyes plead with Malachi.
Anything but this, please. Don’t take him away from me. Don’t leave me alone. I search his eyes, but there is no mercy at all.
With a slight lift of his chin, a large, calloused hand grabs my upper arm roughly, fingernails biting into my skin.
“Get off me!” I growl, pulling hard to try and get away. As we get closer to the door, I dig my fingers into his arm, kicking my legs out, using my nails, teeth, anything I can, causing him to hiss. All it gets me is him tightening his grip, despite me still scratching at him like a cornered wildcat. I can't let them kill Jack. I’m outnumbered, but I will still fight them. I won’t go silent into the night. I will scream until even the birds fall from the sky.
I grab the wooden doorframe, my nails bleeding from the force.
“Don’t fight them, Lilliana.” I turn at Jack's plea. There’s something strange hidden in his tone; pain, regret, defeat, maybe even all three, but there is also something else. Something stronger than the rest. Hope?
“I don’t understand.” Are they letting him go? My anger drains away like dirty dishwater. My heart pounds, my chest heaving from the struggle as my mind fills with confusion. Too many thoughts swirl around to be able to think straight as my eyes glance to each of their stone-cold faces. What is happening?
Malachi closes the distance between us until he’s so close I can feel his breath whispering across my skin. “You’re a bright girl—work it out!” His words float over me, wrapping around me like rope.
They want Jack’s blood, his payment in red, but they are letting him walk away. Then all the pieces of the puzzle connect, and it hits me like a punch to the stomach.
I bend over, dry heaving as the truth hits me, like the waves of a stormy sea.
My eyes look into those black ones, revealing the truth.
I’m his blood.
I’m the payment.
I shake my head, pulling with all my might to get out of the man’s grip. “No. No. No.” Malachi’s lips turn up, and it's like I’m facing the devil himself. And in so many ways, I am.
He doesn’t answer me, those black eyes dragging over me, just the way they used to. It scared me back then. How he had the power to make everything else disappear, the way my body would react in a way I never understood… Now, that power has intensified.
I’m not scared at this moment. It’s not fear ripping through me like a hot knife through butter, filling my veins like heroin. No, it’s anger. Pure rage is consuming me, so much I feel it might break me apart. How dare my father think he could sell me. How dare they think I am a pawn on the chessboard of life that they can play with at their will. I am not something that can be bought and sold at their choosing.
I lift my hand, slapping Malachi across the face, the sound echoing around the walls. I throw a scowl over my shoulder as the man releases me.
Turning back around to Malachi, I take a step forward. “I hate you!” I spit at him, unsure of whom my anger is directed at the most.
His breathing becomes deeper, his fingers twitch, and his nostril’s flare as he watches me shrink under his gaze. He rubs at the red mark on his cheek, before a half smirk pulls at his lips and he tuts, eyes never leaving mine. Before I can blink, he backhands me, sending me to the floor. I bite my lip, stopping the tears, watching through my hair as he squats down in front of me. He rubs his knuckles over my cheekbone, the same place he just hit. Lifting his hand into my hair, he grabs a chunk of it tightly, causing me to hiss and his smirk to grow as he shows me who’s in charge, as he dominates me.
“Is it done?” Jack asks, looking around the room through swollen, bloodshot eyes. I don't miss the hope in them. His words cause my heart to splinter. He is actually going through with this. Selling me. His own daughter.
“I’m not for sale.” I speak in a low, controlled tone, glaring at them, my lips twisting in a false smile as I stand, lifting my chin and showing Malachi every shred of anger that is burning through me. We continue to glare at each other.
“I’m not for sale,” I try one more time, hating how my voice is now unsure, that the anger is dissolving like salt in water. And it hits me like a sledgehammer. Malachi doesn’t make empty threats, and he always gets what he wants.
When I was younger, I admired that about him. He didn’t let people stand in the way of going after what he wanted. Now, that’s me.
No! That’s wrong. He doesn’t want me. I’m pretty sure he hates me. He wants to own me. Make me just another of his possessions.
We both stare at each other. The glimmer in his eyes and the cruel twist of his lips tells me he can read my every thought. He walks—no, he prowls toward me and grabs my chin, his fingers tightening painfully. I bite my tongue to stop the whimper from escaping until I feel a metallic taste coat my mouth. He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip roughly as a wicked grin slides onto his face. I look down to see a droplet of blood coating thumb. My blood. His tongue pokes out, swiping it away. He grins as my eyes widen at the gesture.
“That’s right, Beauty, I own you. Every breath is mine, every beat of your heart belongs to me, including the rivers of ruby flowing through your veins. I’m going to consume every single fucking inch of you.”