Summer and Mattie step out, both glancing between the two of us, Summer with concern and Mattie with suspicion. But it’s not like I have a choice, just like everything else these last few months, so I offer the master manipulator my own fake genuine smile.
“Well, don’t you clean up nicely,” he says, the tone of his voice caught between a compliment and an insult.
“Thank you,” I say, playing my part like it’s a well-worn sweatshirt if sweatshirts chafed instead of comforted.
“I wanted to remind you I won’t stand for any interference in today’s celebration. I’ve allowed two of your people into my home, but I have many more of my own here. They know to expect trouble. I’ve briefed them on the rest of your boys and on your Emma. They’re armed with lethal force.”
I swallow my panic, not knowing how our plans may have changed over the last month. “Understood, sir.”
“In that case, I can’t have you walking down the aisle looking like the charity case you are.” He steps closer, flicking open a large box he’d kept under his arm. Inside is an honest-to-God tiara. The spires curve into delicate bowers of glittery stones, all crystalline, all better suited to a little girlwho still dreams of unicorns than a woman with blood under her nails. He places the crown on my head with surprising dexterity, and I control the shiver the discomfort of his proximity brings, the rage and fear battling inside me. His sallow skin is within biting distance. He would taste terrible. “All my wives have worn this tiara down the aisle. Olivia did as well,” he says.
He steps back, eyes scraping over me as I keep my chin level and my emotions under check.
“You’ll do.” He picks the box up from the bed where he’d set it, stepping toward the door. “Remember. Any missteps today will be met with a silenced pistol and no regrets.”
I nod, not able to force words out, emotions too volatile for me to trust my voice.
He’s friendly as he invites Summer and Mattie back into the room, and I force myself to breathe as deeply as I can in the structured dress.
“You’re a fairytale princess,” Summer says, her smile sympathetic.
“I still haven’t looked,” I whisper.
Spinning at the soft swish of the door, my every nerve alight at the hushed melody of danger that sings in this place, I choke back a sob.
“If you haven’t looked, mija, you should. You’re more beautiful than Cinderella.”
Those same tears I’d barely banished threaten as I rush around the bed to my dad, tugging him into a hug. His arms band tight around me, but he pulls back with a strangled laugh after a moment. “You shouldn’t blubber all over your make-up, Clara-girl.”
“Like I care.” I grip him tighter until the silence of the other two girls registers.
Not wanting to step away from his familiar scent, so closely associated with home and safety, I only half turn, wanting my dad more than I have since I was a little girl. The last year has been hell. And I just want a moment with the first person who ever made me feel safe and loved.
“Dad, this is Trips’ sister Mattie, and this is Summer,” I say, motioning to each of them.
“Where’s Emma?” he asks, and my stomach rolls. If I’d been able to eat anything today, I’d probably be running for the bathroom.
“She couldn’t make it,” I say, hoping the guys clued him in well enough for that answer to be enough.
It seems to be because he says nothing else about my missing best friend, instead tugging me in for another hug. “Your mother was in the same boat this morning.”
A little of the tension I’ve been wearing like armor releases, and my dad gives me a look with a hint of broken around the edges, like he’d rather I were upset at her absence instead of relieved. Then he forces a smile, glancing around the blue room with wondering eyes. “I like the art,” he says, motioning at the charcoal cat by the bathroom that everyone has been too polite to mention. “Now, what’s this I hear about you not wanting to look in the mirror? I’m sure this place has one worth more than my retirement plan.”
I laugh like he expects me to, and Summer joins us. Mattie stays quiet, a longing in her eyes that builds resolve in my chest. She’s never had this with her dad. But the guys and I might at least save her from further harm.
He spins me toward the mirror, his lips held tight against his emotions. “See. Beautiful. All grown up.”
The face that looks back at me is frightening in its familiarity. I’m me, but magnified. My eyes seem larger, my skin softer, my lips a deep berry red that matches the blood-colored stones hanging from my ears.
Add the crown, and I am a fairytale princess come to life: the bloody kind, with my mask fully formed and pinned to my skin, sinking into my blood and bones.
I turn away, fear threatening to steal my resolve as I struggle to pretend this is a happy day.
It will be. It has to be. Today, we win our freedom.
Summer notes my struggle and turns the conversation to things of little importance, regaling us with stories of the unruly dogs she’s dealt with until an unknown guard comes to get us. Summer and Mattie scoop up their feather bouquets and hand me my much larger one: sprigs of burgundy, black, gray, and white falling over my knuckles like wilted wings.
I pin a similar brooch of feathers onto my father’s lapel, and he tugs me in for one last hug. “You’re making your old man tear up,” he whispers. “But if you want to make a run for it, I parked right next to that endless driveway.”
