I hold my breath, expecting them to call my bluff, but they don’t. Or at least they don’t shoot the idea down immediately.
“Fine. You go. We’ll keep the others as collateral.”
Fuck.
I keep my face impassive. “No can do. I need those two to open the safety deposit box.” Please, don’t let Buff react to any of this. He’s as honest as he is naïve. He must sense this is a matter of life or death because he doesn’t say a word.
“Fair enough. Then I’ll send Grant with you.”
I’m impressed. They aren’t as stupid as they look.
“Double no can do. There are instructions left that, should any of this happen and anyone else comes with us, then the money is to be destroyed. See, the guys and I decided long ago that we’d rather see the money up in flames than it going to thewrong people. We took it from the rich to feed the poor. Sort of a modern-day Robin Hood, if you will. I’m afraid you’ll have to trust us.”
The long pause that follows hums in the air.
“Fine. One week,” Talon declares.
Thorne stares at his twin like he’s sprouted a second head, but they know they have to present a united front to keep such a huge pack in line, so he doesn’t say anything. I wonder if Talon is about to lose another pinkie.
“One week, exiles. But try anything, and you all die.”
I nearly sag with relief, but that wouldn’t be smart. “You won’t regret it.”
“You better not fuck with us, or you will,” they say in unison.
How cute. That twin thing must be true.
Chapter 4
Violet
There’s a feeling you get from a new home that you can’t get anywhere else. Everything is clean and fresh and free from the energy of the previous occupants. It promises fresh starts and new beginnings. But I’ve been in my new home for a few days already, and I’m yet to be flooded with the familiar chest flutter of new beginnings. Still, I cling to that hopeful, I-can-do-this-shit promise with everything I have left.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I slip them into the slippers and take a deep breath. “Okay, Vi. The only thing to fear is fear itself. Let’s do this.”
Great, now I’m an inspirational poster.
How many bumps and bruises am I going to get today? I swear I have more bruises than a drunk construction worker.
My slippers whisper over the hardwood floor as I trail my fingers along the wall, each step like a heartbeat steadying me. My breath slows, my shoulders relax, the knot in my stomach loosens. I’ve got this.
Until I need to change environments.
I’ve been blind for nearly a year now, and I still find every day scary.
When I reach my bedroom door, I suck in another breath and venture out of the carpeted space into the tiled hallway and to the stairs.
“Okay, Violet, you’re safe here. Nothing here is going to harm you. You moved here to be safe.” I say this to myself every day, and every day it still feels scary.
I continue to trail my fingers along the wall as I descend the seven steps, then steadily make my way to the kitchen. I’ve always had an active imagination, and even when I could see, I used to imagine all sorts of horrors waiting for me in the dark. As if the moment I switched off the light in my bedroom, every scary urban legend would jump out at me.
Ever hear the one about the woman who used to hang her arm off the side of her bed so her dog could lick her hand? If not, look it up. You’ll never sleep with a limb hanging off the bed again. Then there’s the whole Bloody Mary thing. You wouldn’t catch me looking in a mirror at night. And I’ve never even said her name.
Living in a world where I can’t turn on the light to reassure myself there isn’t a boogeyman under the bed is frightening. But I’m getting used to it. I just need to talk myself out of all the horrors my brain comes up with.
Meemaw says I should write a book because my imagination is so vivid. Yeah, no thanks. Can you imagine all the horrors I could invent? I’d never sleep again.
It hurts because I was an adrenaline junkie. I’ve skydived and swum with sharks and even bungee jumped. But I didn’t just lose my eyesight in the accident—I lost my sense of control. And that’s the most terrifying part of all. That’s why I moved away to the country. Partly because I needed to get away from my past life. But also, until you can’t see what’s going on, you take things for granted. Things like walking across the road. I was in acar when I lost one of my most important senses. Imagine what could happen to me if I crossed the road blind.
