Chapter 51
51
Isaac
T hree and a half hours later, I pulled up to the gates to our family compound. I’d driven like a maniac, and it was by sheer luck that I hadn’t been pulled over. At one point, my father had called me. I’d answered immediately, and the sound of Tovah’s helpless screaming would haunt me for the rest of my life.
Especially when she screamed my name.
Me. I had done this. I had made the mistake of leaving her alone for even a second.
If she didn’t survive, neither would I.
Tick tock, son , my father had said. The sun is beginning to set.
So I shoved my foot down on the gas pedal as hard as I could. Even though it still didn’t feel fast enough.
But I was finally here. The guard waved me in, and I drove through onto the paved brick driveway, parking in front of the house. I hadn’t been home in months, not since the High Holidays. I used hockey as an excuse, but really, I didn’t want to see my asshole father.
But I had no choice.
Leaning over, I grabbed the gun out of the glove compartment and tucked it into my hockey pants. I’d stopped on the way to purchase it from one of my sister’s friends. I’d never owned one. Never wanted to use one. I didn’t care anymore. I’d sell my very soul to the devil if it meant Tovah was safe and free.
Getting out of the car, I shut the door and jogged up to the front door, ringing the doorbell. My father didn’t let us have keys, too paranoid that one of us might lose them and someone could get in. Instead, he kept maids and butlers on rotation 24/7 so there was always someone to answer the door.
Olga, one of the many housekeepers, was the one to open it.
“Oh, Isaac! You’re here.” She twisted her hands in her pristine white apron, fretting over something. “Your father is waiting for you in the dining room. He won’t be pleased about what you’re wearing, but…oh, go in. There are…guests.”
Guests. Plural.
Tovah was safe. For now.
I stretched out my hand to stop the shaking, heading in the direction of the dining room. Each step felt necessary; each step felt like it tightened the noose that was always around my neck. But I forced myself forward.
And froze in the doorway.
My father sat at the head of the table, a white gauze bandage on his neck.
My sister Liza sat next to my brother Reuben, their backs to me. On the other side of the table, my brothers Sasha and Jordan sat. Everyone’s eyes, however, were on the two women at the foot of the table.
I stared at Tovah. She was next to an older woman who looked a bit like her. Tovah’s mother. One of my father’s men stood behind Tovah’s mother, holding a gun to her head.
In the middle of the table, the Shabbat candles burned. Everyone’s plates were full, but no one was eating. Except of course, my father, who was chewing on brisket like there was not a worry in the world—until I saw him wince and touch a hand to his throat.
I split my attention between him—the bomb ready to go off at any moment—and Tovah, who sat there, alive.
Alive.
I almost fell to my knees from relief, until I looked more closely at her.
She was covered in bruises. Her arms, her face. She had a black eye, and her cheek was swollen. Blood had dried on a cut under her chin.
Those screams.
They’d hurt her.
He’d hurt her.
“Which one did it?” I asked her.
“Hello, Isaac, it’s nice to see you,” my father said, voice thick with pain. “Thank you for joining us for Shabbat dinner.” He tsked. “But wearing your hockey gear? That’s inappropriate.”
I ignored him, my eyes on Tovah. “Which one?”
Tovah shook her head. “Isaac, you shouldn’t be here,” she said. “This place is bad for you.”
Bullshit.
“Which. One,” I asked, gritting my teeth.
It was her mother who pointed at one of my father’s soldiers standing in the corner, sipping a whiskey without a care in the world.
I didn’t hesitate or consider the fact that I’d never wanted to kill. Just pulled the gun out of my pants, lifted it and pulled the trigger.
A moment later, blood bloomed in the middle of the man’s head and he slumped against the wall behind him, sliding to the ground, dead.
“Anyone else?” I asked Tovah’s mother.
“No,” she said.
The man behind her cocked his gun.
I shot him, too.
My father pushed back from the table and rose to his feet. I expected him to call for more guards, but instead he clapped.
“Oh, Isaac, my boy. My son. I always hoped you had it in you. I worried you were too much like your mother, but you do take after me, don’t you?”
“Drop the bullshit,” I growled. “You’re going to let both of these women go.”
“Now, why would I do that, when we’re having a nice family dinner and getting to know each other?” He gestured at Reuben and Jordan, who sat, shoulders stiff, not willing to intercede, the cowardly bastards. Sasha was slumped sideways in his chair, looking bored with all of us.
Liza, for her part, caught my eye and shook her head. She didn’t have to say what she was thinking.
Don’t. Don’t aggravate him further. Don’t escalate this.
“Sit, Isaac,” my father said, patting the empty chair next to him.
Fuck that. Not when my girl wasn’t safe.
I moved toward Tovah.
Another one of my father’s men lifted a gun and shoved it against her temple.
She froze.
So did I.
“ Sit ,” My father repeated.
I sat.
“And I’m going to ask for you to hand over the gun. We don’t bring weapons to Shabbat dinner—it’s supposed to be a time of rest, of peace.”
Sasha rolled his eyes. “If that’s the case, why do your peaceful henchmen all have Rugers in hand?”
“Sasha,” Liza hissed, her eyes still on me. “Drop it.”
Sasha shrugged.
“Dad’s never going to give you control of the ‘family business,’ sister dearest,” he said. “I fear bossing us around is going to get you nowhere.”
“I’m the oldest,” Liza began.
My father glared at my siblings, taking his attention off me for a moment. I contemplated shooting the man holding the gun to Tovah’s head, but I couldn’t guarantee her safety.
“Children. Not at dinner,” he admonished, before his eyes flitted back to me. “Isaac, whatever you’re thinking, I promise it won’t end well for her. Gun. Please.”
I passed him the gun, forcing myself to release my grip on it.
Placing it next to him, so it faced out, my father picked back up his knife and carefully sliced off a bit of brisket as he spoke. The smell of brisket usually made me salivate. Now, with Tovah in so much danger, the cooked, dead flesh made my stomach roil.
“You see, Isaac, there are things you don’t know about your girlfriend here. I’m disappointed in you, by the way. Eliana is such a good match for you. Not like this violent criminal,” he said with disdain.
“Funny you of all people should call me that,” Tovah said, sounding calmer than she should’ve with a gun pressing to her temple.
The way she slurred her words with pain made the monster in me rage. I wanted to let him out, but I couldn’t. I had to be smart. Had to outthink my father.
My father, who scoffed at Tovah. “You know, Isaac, she tried to slit my throat? I was almost impressed. But she’s not the girl for you. You need someone with a…cooler head,” he finished, like he’d read my thoughts. He always had an uncanny ability to do that.
“What you don’t know,” he continued, “Is that Tovah here aided her mother in killing my second-in-command. You remember your uncle Mordy, don’t you? He was my very dearest friend, and he died the same night as your mother. They found him keeled over at his kitchen table, over a half-eaten piece of cake.” My father shook his head. “Such a loss. May his memory be a blessing.”
I glanced at Tovah, and she didn’t look away.
“Is it true?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Good,” I said. “I’m glad you both protected yourselves.”
She blinked, like she was surprised and relieved I didn’t hold murder against her. All I cared about was that she’d lived.
And she’d live, now.
“I—” she began, but she was cut off when my father’s man shoved the gun harder against her temple.
Love you , she’d been about to say.
I swallowed the monstrous growl, following my sister’s unspoken advice. Instead, I forced a pleasant smile on my face and faced my father.
“What do I need to do to make you lower those guns and let them go?”
The grin that took over his face was pained.
“Ah, yes. I have a bit of a laundry list, you see. First, you’ll stop playing that silly stick game and focus on learning how this family operates. The second you graduate, you’ll come home—and marry Eliana.”
Once upon a time, these demands had been my biggest fears. Give up hockey. Take over the family business. Now, even though they all hurt—and the idea of marrying anyone but Tovah hurt most—they didn’t matter. Nothing did.
Nothing but her. I’d sacrifice all my dreams, live all my nightmares, if it meant she got to live, period.
“Isaac, don’t,” Tovah tried to say.
“Done,” I told my father. “Now let her go.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I think I’ll keep her around until I’m sure you won’t renege. We don’t break promises, Isaac. Remember that.”
“You. Will. Let. Her. Go,” I told him.
He chuckled. “Who are you, Moses? No. In fact, I think they’re lucky. I loved Mordy deeply, and they took him from me. They should die for that. You know what?” he tapped his chin. “Maybe I’ll kill the mother, and the daughter can grieve. I need my vengeance somehow. For him.”
“No,” Tovah said. “If you want your vengeance, take it from me.”
“Tovah,” I said sharply, at the same moment, her mother said, “Don’t, please don’t, honey.”
But Tovah ignored both of us, instead lifting her gaze and staring my father down. My heart began to beat so loud it could’ve shaken the floorboards.
“I remember that day,” she began. “I remember when we mixed the poison into the cake. Red velvet, my stepfather’s favorite. But see, it wasn’t my mother who killed him, because I was the one who served it to him. I was the one who made sure he ate every single bite ,” she enunciated. “And I was the one who watched, with relief, with happiness, when that bastard keeled over on the table and we were finally free. So Abe, you can have your vengeance, but you’ll want to take it against me. Because I’m the one who killed him.”