Chapter 2
A ny fragile hope I had shatters in an instant.
The room feels too small to contain my raging emotions.
The weight of Angus’ words weighs down on me too heavily, squeezing the air from my lungs.
For a moment, we are all suspended in a silence so thick, it clogs the air, as if Angus’ words have sucked all the life out of the room before it explodes into a cacophony of sound.
Mother gasps and drops her fork with a clatter, clutching the pearls at the base of her throat as her eyes shine with emotion.
The fakeness makes me want to roll my eyes.
As if she wasn’t in on this. As if she herself didn’t tell me this was on the table weeks ago.
Freya lets out a sob as she shoves her chair back and bolts out of the room.
Meanwhile, Peter joins Father and Angus in letting out a hearty laugh filled with a sick kind of glee no ten-year-old should be able to express.
It hammers home just how lost to me he is.
Long gone is the little boy I tried to steer away from following in Father’s footsteps.
And me? I don’t make a noise. No, I watch my sister as she runs, cataloguing every inch of her for memory’s sake.
The hardest thing about knowing tonight is my last night is knowing I’ll never see her again.
I’ll never get to hug her tight or help do her hair.
I’ll miss out on her first love and first heartbreak.
But none of that matters more than getting her out of Angus’ clutches.
The second I’m gone, Freya will be sent back St Andrew’s and Angus will turn his focus onto finding my replacement, setting her free from his web of perverse intentions.
That is worth paying the price, no matter how steep.
Drawing in a deep breath, I lift my chin to look around the table.
I knew this day was coming, but no amount of preparation could soften this blow.
What kind of father is all too happy to send his eighteen-year-old daughter into the hands of a nearly forty-year-old creep? Especially with the reputation Angus has.
There’s a reason he still has no heir. His wives never survive long enough to produce one. And now my father, my flesh and blood , is handing me over to be the next?
Over. My. Dead. Body.
Steeling my spine, I thrust my shoulders back and hold my chin up high with a dazzling smile as I bat my eyelids and channel my inner airhead. “Wow. Me? What an honour that would be.”
As his focus returns to me—and away from Freya’s empty seat—I embrace the anger burning through me.
Let him think the sudden heat in my cheeks is simply a flush of excitement.
If only he knew I was plotting a hundred different ways to murder him.
Surely, that would wipe the smirk off his face.
Or maybe not, given the kind of sick bastard he is.
Before anyone can comment further, the next course is brought out.
This time, we all get the same roast dinner, just in varying degrees of portion sizes.
Glancing once more at Freya’s empty seat with a furrowed brow, Angus issues a sharp command.
“Helen, be a dear and retrieve your sister. It would be such a shame for her to miss the celebrations.”
Not one to pass up an out when it’s so freely presented, I excuse myself and follow the sounds of her soft cries.
It’s times like these I realise, despite there only being two years between us, the differences are far bigger.
Maybe I’ve sheltered her too much, resulting in her becoming such a fragile, sensitive soul.
But then again, maybe that’s just the way she was destined to be.
Either way, I pray she’s never forced to shed her softness in exchange for a tougher shell.
Pushing the bathroom door open, I find her sitting on the closed toilet lid, her head in her hands. She flinches at the sound, like a wounded animal expecting the next blow, her panicked gaze meeting mine before she visibly relaxes.
“You can’t marry that…that monster!” she spits out, jumping up to grab me by my shoulders, as if her shaking me can change anything.
We’re just pawns on a bigger chessboard.
Our opinions and objections aren’t worth shit here.
Yet another reason to get the hell out of here before it’s too late. Before irreparable damage is done.
“Breath for me, Frey. In and out. Now, listen. I have a plan, okay?” Brushing an unruly curl back from her face, I do my best to calm her before she works herself into a panic attack. Now is not the time, nor the place.
“How are you so calm? You’ve heard the stories, how not one of his wives could stomach being married to him for more than a few months before they…
I can’t lose you to him.” She sobs, throwing herself at me, burying her face in my shoulder.
It’s all I can do not to cry with her. Instead, I inhale the familiar scent of her vanilla bodywash and run my hand over her hair before tugging her back so I can lock eyes with her.
“Just trust me, okay? When have I ever let you down, huh? All we have to do is get through tonight, and then we can sort this out. We’ll be fine, I promise.” Holding out my pinkie for her, I watch as a hundred questions dart behind her eyes before, with a shaky exhale, she links pinkies with me.
The last thing I want to do is subject her to even a second longer in Angus’ presence, but we all have a part to play.
For the moment, I need to play the part of the perfect, obedient mafia daughter like my life depends on it.
It may grate on my nerves and make me sick to my stomach, but I don’t have a choice. Tonight is very much do or die.
Thankfully, the rest of the dinner passes without incident or any more talk of my impending nuptials to Satan himself.
As we wrap up and the countdown begins for my plan to come to fruition, Father hangs back to join Angus in his study while Mother ushers us home before disappearing into her bedroom without so much as a backwards glance.
Oh, don’t worry about me, your daughter, you just sold off. I’m fine, thanks for asking.
As soon as I’m sequestered in my room, I set my plan in motion.
Pulling up the loose floorboards underneath my bed, I pull out the supplies I’ve been hoarding.
A backpack. A few hundred in cash. A fake ID.
Blood bags. A butcher’s knife. Growing up as a daughter of a member of the Clan, the Scottish mafia, I’ve always feared this day would come.
I’ve watched countless peers get paired off with a man old enough to be her father, and with each wedding I was forced to attend, I knew it was only a matter of time before the gauntlet was thrown down for me.
I may not have known who I would be given to, but one thing I did know was that I would never go quietly.
With a grimace, I exchange my pathetic excuse of a dress for a dark hoodie and jeans before putting my plan into motion.
Soon enough, my room looks like something out of a slasher movie: blood everywhere, upturned furniture, sliced bedsheets.
A quick look at the time tells me it’s now or never.
Father will be on his way back soon, and the last thing I need is to bump into him while making my great escape.
Adding the final touches, I take one last look at what was once my childhood room, now prison, before easing open my balcony doors and making the short jump down into the back garden.
Leaving Freya behind has a lump forming in my throat, but I push it down and focus on slipping out unseen.
She’s safer at St Andrew’s than she would be if she were on the run with me.
Both of us vanishing would have Father spending every waking moment hunting us down until he could drag us back to this hell .
Not allowing myself to delay the inevitable any longer, I make a quick dash to the gates with my hood pulled up, purposely leaving a trail of blood behind me.
Approaching the gates that, in theory, are there to protect us but are really here to keep us prisoner, I use the random soldier’s ID I pickpocketed earlier on the scanner.
Holding my breath, I pray he hasn’t noticed and reported it missing yet, but when the little light flashes green and the gates swing open, I exhale with relief.
Despite growing up here, this place was never a home.
I won’t miss it or most of the people behind these gates.
I know they won’t miss me either. When they stumble across my blood-soaked room and bloody balcony doors, they’ll assume someone took me, and the chances of any of them sending out a manhunt for me or even caring is slim to none.
The biggest inconvenience will be that Angus has to find a new bride, and while I wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone, better them than me.
Keeping Freya far away from his clutches is the only thing that matters.
Phase one: get out of the compound undetected. Complete.
Phase two: vanish and make a new life, one I can eventually bring Freya into. Let’s go.