“Never!”
The gun clicks behind me.
“Give me my fucking daughter or I’ll leave you both to bleed out on the side of the road.”
My heart breaks as the thunder booms.
“You have five seconds. Five. Four. Three?—”
“Okay!!”
I’m sobbing as I turn, clinging tightly to Dove as she starts to wail. It feels like an outside force is controlling my body as I find myself handing my heart to the man I hate.
“Be careful with her!” I choke, crying freely as Cesare takes her under one arm. He smiles down at her, his eyes glinting coldly.
“Fine!” I blurt, the wind and the rain whipping at my face as I reach for the door. “You win, you bastard! You can take me home and do whatever you like, just don’t youdarehurt?—”
“Oh, my dear, that’s not how this is going to happen.” His eyes narrow at me as he raises the gun in his other hand. “Say goodbye to your daughter, Lydia.”
The gun fires.
My body folds in half as the scream and my breath are forced from my throat.
I stagger back, clutching my stomach, feeling hot, sticky liquid pour through my fingers.
I drop to my knees.
The car door shuts.
I fall into the mud and the rain as the SUV roars away.
No.
This isn’t how this is supposed to go.
I’ll come back for you, Dove.
Mommy will come back for you.
48
DOVE
My Dearest Lark,
If you’re reading this, I’ve passed on.
Don’t be sad. I’ve lived a long, happy life, which was only made even more wonderful by spending the past sixteen years raising you. And tonight, on the eve of your sixteenth birthday, I find myself ready to tell you some truths about yourself and your past that I’ve kept from you.
I had good reasons to do so, one of them being that someone very close to me asked me to. Another is that I wanted to keep you safe from things I never wanted you to worry about.
I don’t expect you’ll read this for some time. I don't plan on shuffling off this mortal coil quite yet! But I’ve had some memory issues lately. I’m hoping it’s just yet another of the indignities that comes with getting older, but in case it DOES get worse, this needs to be committed to paper now.
You deserve to know the truth about who you are, and where you came from.
How I wish I could do this face to face. It feels like you’re owed that, especially as you grow into such a fine young woman. But I’m afraid the lives we live are still too dangerous for speaking this out loud.
Which brings me to another note: if you’re reading this, it also means your father has passed.
