Her eyes rest on me, halfway to pity. “Why? What do you gain by turning me into a tug of war between you and your dad?”
“You said you’d be my girl.”
“And you said all the shit you bought was an apology for the gun. Guess we’re both liars.”
There’s something hiding in her face, a wariness I haven’t seen before.
“Please. You’re wearing my necklace. You’re my girl, aren’t you?” I slide my hand around the curve of her neck, pulling her closer, rubbing my thumb along the edge of her jaw because I know she enjoys it and there’s nothing in the world, I wouldn’t do to fill her with pleasure.
“Your necklace.” Her voice twists with bitterness as she raises shaking hands and undoes the leather, pushing it into my hand. “Here you go. Find another piece of livestock to chain.”
“That isn’t…” Anger snaps across my brain, then grief, fear, giving me whiplash. “You agreed. I’m taking care of you.”
“It’s not care, it’s control. You’re buying me everything I need until our lives are so entwined I can’t get away from you. I’ve been here before, Maddox.”
“With who?” Jealousy pours into me. “Who the fuck—”
“My foster parents. The people who loved and cared for me as long as I did every chore they set, obeyed every instruction, became the perfect obedient little girl they’d always wanted.”
Her lower lip wobbles, eyes brimming with tears. It’s like a crack has opened, spilling out bitterness in a flood.
“What happens when I’m not your perfect partner, Maddox? What happens when I wake up one morning and I don’t want towear the lingerie you’ve picked out for me or eat the food you prepared?”
The words spill out so fast, I can barely follow what she’s saying.
“Because the last time I disappointed people, they took me out of school, they isolated me, they tried to separate me from the only family member I had left. Every day worse and worse and worse until I ended up drugged and shackled in a cage in the stables.” Her hand creeps up to rub her neck, nails grazing over the scar, the thin line that I now see could fit to a metal collar.
My blood runs cold. I want to tear her foster parents into raw chunks and feed them to a rabid dog. I bite hard into my cheek just to taste the blood. “That wouldnever—”
“Sure. That’s how it began last time, too.”
She turns away, arranging her belongings again.
“I didn’t know.”
“Because I didn’t tell you, but it didn’t matter, did it? You still treated me exactly the same and how the fuck does that happen?” Her voice nearly disappears as she cries, “What is wrong with me?”
“I don’t…” There’s no answer I can give her. Coincidence? Fate? The universe hurling an ironic curveball straight at my face?
For a moment, her hand is across her face. Then she sucks in a deep breath, slotting her mask back in place. “This has been so much fun, really, and I’m so, so grateful, but I have to take the money. I need something that’smine.”
“But you’re the one for me. You’re my girl.”
But her eyes fill with sadness rather than joy. She pulls away. “You want a toy to play with, Maddox. Not a girl.” She gives another of those gentle laughs. “Especially not a girl your father threatened to kill if she didn’t accept his kind offer.”
“Why?” She tries to turn away and I grab her by the shoulder, twisting her to keep facing me while my thoughts race, trying to solve a problem without enough information.
My father doesn’t care, he’s not into hands-on parenting. He’s never given a shit who I hang around with or whether Ilikeanyone, let alone a girl.
How did he go from nothing to threatening to kill her? What am I missing?
“What reason did he give you?” I demand. “Why would he be so anxious, he’d murder you if you don’t go voluntarily?”
She clicks her tongue, giving an impatient toss of her head. “I don’t think hewould.He just enjoys the theatrics of it all.”
But I can tell from her face she’s worried. So would I be… if I knew enough to figure out what the hell’s going on. “Did you sleep with him?”
Her face shutters and those icy tendrils are back, squeezing my head until it hurts to think, until the last fragile bands on my control snap. I should have pushed harder, back when this was starting. As the temperature of my blood rises and the fuse on my temper burns, I reserve some of the blame for myself.
