“Fuck you,” I spit, storming away from him as fast as my legs will carry me.
I’m not going into the mansion with him. Irefuseto stroll in by his side like we’re some father-son duo.
“Dascha! Wait,” he hollers, chasing after me.
I run faster.
The mansion is visible up ahead, the long winding driveway lined with large vehicles. Off in the distance, on the east coast, I can see the small dock… The one where Velle’s boat was.
The one I sat in, waiting for my officer Kemper, who some part of my brain knew wasn’t coming. Yet, despite themental illness, I somehow managed toescapefrom Alabaster Penitentiary, and this island. I escaped from hell, right over there. All by myself.
Sick or not,wounded, whatever… I made it the fuck out, on myown.
And I found myrealOfficer Kemper.
Fuck, I miss him already.
He always knows how to make me feel better when I’m spiraling and hating the world.
“Dascha, please,” my father calls after me, but I’m still ignoring him.
Rushing up the driveway, I’m met with a group of cartel men, guns instantly aimed at my head.
“You should know who I am,” I grumble, peering at my dad as he strides up, casually, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.
“Alexander Reznikov for Manuel Blanco,” he says with the cigarette between his teeth, flicking his lighter.
I’m glaring at him, shaking my head.
So he’s really just… pals with The Ivory then?
And he says I’ve met him before…?
But I don’t remember.
What else is new?
“Sir, you can head right inside,” one of the men says to my father as another approaches me, pulling cuffs off his holster.
“You’re high if you think you’re putting those on me,” I grunt at him.
“I will stay here and make sure no harm comes to my son,” Dad says.
I scoff. “I don’t need your protection, pops. Not anymore, but ya know… Thanks for stopping by.”
A man strides down the front steps, heading right for us. He’s not in uniform like the others. Rather, he’s in all black, like he’s head of security for a pop star or something.
“Mr. Reznikov,” the man greets my father stoically. “The Ivory is requesting that you adjourn to the study for a drink. He’ll be with you shortly.”
My dad glances at me, and I look away.
“Dascha, you must talk to me at some point,” he murmurs.
You prick.
I whip a glare his way. “Oh, Imust??For a pussy ass bitch, you’ve got some balls on you…”
A few of the cartel guys snicker while I smirk at my father’s displeased grimace. Crazy that I totally remember how he used to give me that look when I’d pop off as a kid.
