“Aurora.” An edge creeps into Dad’s voice. Of course, because he’s not calling the shots, and I’m not giving him what he wants. “Give me the gun. Hand it to me. I’ll take care of this. You shouldn’t have to do it.”
“You’re smarter than that,” Liam whispers, finally sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Don’t listen to him,” Dad barks. “He only thinks he’s in your head. He’s been using you, and you know it. We both do.”
I still have the gun trained on him, but I can’t help the way his words sink in. He’s right. Liam is in my head. He has been using me, too.
“Do you deny that?” I whisper to him, glancing his way. As soon as Dad flinches, I turn my attention back to him. “Do. Not. Move,” I warn.
“I’m proud of you,” he murmurs. The worst part is, it sounds like he means it. The first time in my life, my father is proud of me, and why? Because I’m holding a gun on him? It’s sad and hollow.
“Were you proud of me when you were holding a gun to my head just now?” There’s desperation in my voice. The emotionhe just made fun of moments ago. I can’t hold it back no matter how hard I try. “When you promised him you would kill me? And make him watch?”
“You know I didn’t mean that!”
“I don’t know that at all.”
“You should! You are my daughter, goddammit. I wanted him to put down the gun, and he did! I would never, ever?—”
“Stop lying,” I warn. “We both know you’re lying, Dad. It’s embarrassing for you.”
“You think he gives a shit?” he rages. He’s coming closer and closer to the edge of losing it altogether. His desperation is building bit by bit the longer I hold him in place with a gun I’m fighting to hold steady. “The way he locked you up? Made you marry him, took away everything that should’ve been yours?”
“It was never going to be mine. You’re still lying.” God, I’m so tired. Weary in my bones. “You were going to sell me to Gabriel Russo, or did you forget? Because I didn’t. You were going to keep everything that belongs to you. It would never have been mine.”
And the thing is, even while I say the words I know are true, I feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. I can’t even hate him for it. I don’t feel anything toward him. Maybe sadness at the way it’s all gone down, but nothing else.
He makes a move toward me and I shake my head. “What is wrong with your memory? I said, do not move. Either of you,” I add in case Liam gets any ideas. “You used me. You were both going to sell me. Like I’m nothing.”
Dad shakes his head furiously. Liam doesn’t. “That was the original plan,” he agrees in a quiet voice while my father sputters. “I admit it.” At least one of them does.
“Remember something.” Sweat rolls down Dad’s face, mixing with the blood while he babbles. “If you make the mistake ofkilling me now, you’ll never know where your mother is. Only I know. Are you going to sacrifice her?”
Mom. My only chance at ever finding her. Knowing her. A part of me that’s been missing my whole life. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I ask.
“You’ll only know if you give me the chance. But you’ll never have a chance at finding her if you kill me now. I know you understand that.”
“I can find her,” Liam murmurs.
“You can’t!” Dad snaps at him.
“You know I can.” He’s looking only at me, speaking only to me. “You know I can make it happen. You don’t need him.”
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Dad’s getting more desperate by the second. “Don’t you do this to her!”
“You know he’s pretending, right?” Somehow, Liam manages to ignore him, looking only at me. “He doesn’t mean a word. You know who he is. Remember all the things you told me about him.”
“She didn’t tell you shit!”
“Remember,” Liam quietly urges. “You know what this is all about. You know he’ll never give you what you need. He’ll offer, he’ll promise. He’ll do anything to protect himself, but he doesn’t mean a word.”
“You do?” I ask.
“Don’t listen to him,” Dad growls. He sounds like an animal. Spitting a mouthful of blood on the floor, he adds, “Please, Aurora. My girl. Don’t let him do this to you.”
“He’s never going to change.” There’s no desperation in Liam’s voice, because he knows he’s right—and he knows I know it, too. I can’t deny it. “He can’t. He’s incapable of it.”
That’s what does it. Whatever little bit of control Dad was clinging to evaporates. He moves like lightning, bending to pull something out from inside his sock.
