***
Maeve screamed at her reflection in her bedroom.
This had to be a sick joke, but she remembered the urgent look in Margot’s eyes that told her everything she needed to know. Hurt?it twisted deep into her heart like a knife. But then it was replaced by anger?anger so intense that her nails sunk into her palms from how hard she was balling her fists.
How dare her father do this to her? She’d done nothing but abide by his rules for the last twenty-four years, to live not how she wanted but in ways that could please him, even though he barely noticed it, even though it brought her nothing but misery.
And then he had thenerve, the effrontery, to trade her away as if she were nothing more than a bargaining chip instead of his actual daughter. And to whom? A stranger who killed men just as easily as he did?
Just when she was sure Cormac couldn’t do anything more to hurt her, he proved her wrong in the worst way possible—every single time.
Enough was enough.
This was the last straw.
How long would she live like this? How long would she keep accepting everything he threw her way, like her own feelings didn’t matter? How long would she keep living in utter misery and fear?
She couldn’t do it. No. Absolutely not.
She couldn’t allow herself to be married off to a man she barely knew. A man who had taken the life of another as easily as breathing.
There’s no time to argue or think about why he’s done this. If you don’t get out now, you won’t get out at all.
She didn’t spare another moment to think before she crouched to the floor and pulled a box out from under her bed. It was there because of the many times she’d attempted to escape the claws of her father.
She rushed into her closet and grabbed whatever clothes she could carry before shoving them deep into the box. She pushed the bathroom door open, packed a few essentials, forced them in, and then went for her wallet.
She couldn’t even imagine being married to Jonathan. She thought of the worst. She couldn’t imagine him kissing hermuch more of touching her. She couldn’t imagine being called the wife of a man she knew nothing about.
And what would happen if she actually allowed herself to marry him? What if, after everything, he decided she wasn’t worth his time? That she bored him or made him angry?
Fuck, what if he killed her like he killed that man?
A shudder ran through Maeve’s spine as she struggled to zip up her box. God, she needed to leave. She needed to do itnow.
She didn’t even know where she would go. But the most important thing was that she left this house, this suffocating roof that belonged to her father.
She was breathing hard as she shuffled down the stairs, dragging her box with her. But her father was always one step ahead, and that’s why he was waiting at the foot of the staircase, an unimpressed look on his face as his eyes darted from her face to the box in her right hand.
“I’m disappointed,” was all he said, still standing at the foot of the stairs. “What makes you think you can run? You don’t think I will find you?”
Maeve’s grip on her box tightened. “You don’t get to decide my life anymore, Dad.”
“I’m not deciding your life,” he said, frowning as he placed one foot on the step. “I’m making it better.”
“By marrying me off to a man I know nothing of?”
“He’s family now. You’ll know him when you marry him.”
I know you don’t like to hear it, but he sees you as a burden—a problem to be handed off, just like everything else he’s done in this business.
Hot tears burned at the corners of Maeve’s eyes, but she willed herself not to cry. “Why?” Her voice broke slightly. “Why are you doing this to me? For God’s sake, I’m your daughter.”
“And that’s exactly why I’m doing this,” he countered, taking another step forward. “This is the most important task you’ll ever have, Maeve.”
Her jaw tightened. “So what? I don’t even have a say in this? In my own life?”
Cormac looked bored. “It’s just marriage. You’re making a big deal out of it.”
