“He’ll be leaving tomorrow, right away, to build those excellent connections first.”
Mother nodded, and my younger sisters didn’t respond in any way.
“No,” I muttered, only a hair above a whisper. Even so, every set of eyes turned to me. I glanced at my father, his glare so cold, then at my mother, who just looked bored, a little irritated. Opening and closing my mouth like a fish, I whimpered. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” I ducked my head.
Tension sat between us all for a minute. Would they let the moment pass, or would I suffer? Margaret and Amaryllis perched all proper, their hair neat, their childish faces passive. It was only me. I was the only child who ever put a foot wrong. And as they liked to remind me, my role in this family was one of the most important.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.
Finally, Father spoke, “Theo will be leaving tomorrow; we will send him off as a family. I expect everyone at the front door at seven am sharp.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. It felt like it was breaking, shattering like glass, too many tiny fragments to repair.
It was only ever supposed to be us. Me and my big brother against the world. He wasn’t supposed to be far away, a university near London, maybe. Only an hour or so down the motorway, visiting regularly. I sniffed back a tear.
“Violet,” Theo’s voice said, and I looked up to meet his eye. Everyone was still watching.
“Yes?”
Theo gulped. “Life will be good.”
One
Theo
Everysinglememberofmy family was crazy, obsessive, evil bastards to the deepest part of their cores. Overprotective of unimportant things, too loose with the vital. In-fucking-furiating. Every single one of the cunts. But I didn’t have time for anger over my uncle and his insane ways, didn’t have time for anything other than absolute relief that he was the way he was.
I didn’t laugh or jibe or scoff at him as he told me he’d placed a little tracker in his wallet in case anyone pinched it from him. For a moment, my thoughts centered only on how to bury one under Violet’s skin as soon as I got my hands back on her.
I wanted to fucking kiss the man, the bewildered idiot standing before me with his phone in hand. But I wouldn’t; I’d kiss Violet when I caught up to her, for taking something so fucking trackable when she ran off.
My little lamb running out into a den of wolves while my skin itched to chase after her. But we had to do it right. Connor pulled up the app on his phone that showed us where she was headed. We took a steadying breath each, and we moved, precise and focused, like I’d been trained to be.
I pushed out every other thought buzzing around in my head like annoying flies and concentrated my mind. I’d often do it if I had to, when a shitty job lined up for me, one I didn’t agree with. Now, it worked to focus on getting my Violet back. My mind emptied of all but that.
She was gone, running away on misconceptions and vicious words not meant for her. She was never supposed to hear those lies, and I was a damn idiot for not telling her the plan first. Shoulda learned my damned lesson that if it could go wrong, it would. Shit.
My words, disgusting, sinking to the family level words, and the idea of them rolling around in her fragile head while she fled from me, made me feel sick, caused bile and vomit to boil in my throat. But it also spurred me on. We knew which direction she was going. I’d be able to explain, catch her before she did anything stupid, and tell her everything. Make it fucking clear those words were the biggest lie I ever told. Because… fuck, of course they were. That she even thought—
While Connor rambled about how he’d been gifted a whole bunch of the trackers one Christmas while I shoved my feet into my shoes and grabbed my gun, I turned and punched him in the stomach. Stupid prick, Violet was the strongest person I’d ever met, but physically, right now? She was weak as shit. Could barely stand without swaying.
She’d fled straight past him, and he’d let her go. My fists curled up with the urge to hurt him more, to beat the shit out of him, but I held it. He might be useful yet. He’d better be bloody useful.
If she’d heard—Fuck!
“Come the fuck on, bastard!” I yelled at Connor, fighting that impulse to attack him again. He frowned at me and grabbed his phone before we raced from the apartment. We weren’t far behind her.
It pissed me off too, when I let my mind go there, that she’d believed those words. That something so opposite of everything I’d said to her would make her run. Why hadn’t she waited? Why the fuck did she believe those horrible words?
That tracker. That blessed tracker.
Connor and I made it to the packed-out train station in record time, throwing money at the cabbie without looking back. I ran ahead, shoving commuters out of the way as my head swiveled, looking everywhere for her. For a flash of that dark hair I knew so well.
But it was so damn busy, even this early in the morning when you’d expect the fuckers to all still be asleep. Who was up at this time of day? Leaving the city in their masses just to get in my fucking way. I threw my weight around, desperate to catch sight of my sister, of her big blue eyes, looking right at me, happy to see me coming and not terrified. Squashing down the panic that we were already too late, I turned to Connor.
“She’s still here,” he told me, his breathing as heavy as mine as he looked at his phone, tapping his thumb beside the little image of the tracker. She was here, among this crowd. Too many bloody variables in all these people. My pulse pounded, blood racing around my ears so all I could hear was a swishy wave — I blinked away the panic and focused, everything rushing back in. A cacophony of voices, announcements, and the drag of dodgy suitcase wheels. Heart pounding against my ribs.
For a moment, it seemed hopeless. Too many people, too many places to hide. My eyes tracked over everything, checking the departures board, memorizing every face in case I needed it for later. There was a train about to depart, pulling into the station any fucking second. My gut squeezed.
