With that, he strides outside, slamming the door with enough force to rattle it off its hinges. My pulse pounds behind my ears,my throat suddenly feeling parched as I sink to the ground. The tears spill, hot and burning, but it’s nothing compared to the gaping hole in my chest.
This is it. This is what I deserve. My lips tremble and I don’t know how long I stay on the floor crying, but when I wipe my tears, it’s with a new determination… To express myself to my fucking family like I’ve never done before.
I manage to couple the bracelet together and shove it into the pocket of my pants. My legs feel unsteady as I rise to my feet and hurry toward the vanity. I snatch my glasses, purse and coat from the vanity before casting one last glance at my tear-stricken face in the mirror, then I head out.
***
The breeze tonight is something more than the ordinary as I get out of the taxi a few blocks from the house. After paying the cab driver, I turn in the direction of my father’s house and my fists clench.
I look back once, half expecting to see a guard or maybe even Sharon, chasing after me with a coat, but there’s nothing… no one. No Sharon, and…no Dominic.
I tighten my fists. I knew that cunning bastard liked to play dirty, but I never knew he’d go to such an extent. I should have known. The odd calls, the sudden change of heart…and, of course, the gift. I should have known Father was up to no good,and somehow that thought strips me of what little sanity I have left.
Tears threaten to stream down my cheeks again, but I’m determined not to give him and Melanie the satisfaction of seeing me broken…never again. And maybe that’s the reason I didn’t stop in front of the house. I want to be as composed as possible while I give them both a piece of my mind.
Smoothing a hand down my hair, I rub away what little tears remain on my cheeks and start toward the house. With each step I take, I feel my heart harden. God, I want them to pay dearly.
I’m about to turn the corner that leads to the house when I see him outside the gate. Father is a cunning and sly bastard, which means he’s usually composed…for the most part. But now, even the dimly lit lamppost doesn’t hide the frantic look on his face.
Somehow, instinct sets in and I quickly shove myself behind a parked car, observing his antics. He makes a call and whispers thickly into the phone before hurrying toward his car, but his head whirls back every second like prey that knows the hunter is near. I begin to circle the car slowly to get a good view of him when I unknowingly collide with a dumpster. Shit!
The metal can clatters to the ground. The clang is impossibly loud, shattering the silence and making my heart jump into my throat.
I quickly lower my head and stifle a gasp when his neck snaps in my direction.
My heart catches in my throat, but I don’t move until I hear the rev sound of his engine, then I spring out of hiding just as a taxi approaches. I quickly flag it down and slide in, giving instructions to the driver to tail the black Ford truck.
Forty minutes later, we’re still driving, but as the car slows down, I become more aware of the environment. The roads are emptier, and the houses fewer. My gut twists as we trail his car off the main road and past a lonely street that looks like the aftermath of an apocalypse.
Somehow, that’s enough warning for me to abort the mission and head back, but for some reason, I find myself being filled with deadly curiosity as we take a turn that leads to the woods.
I know Father has a lot of dirty tricks up his sleeve, and this may be the usual mafia shenanigans. But why is my instinct screamingfollow?Why can’t I shake off this foreboding feeling in my gut?
“This is as far as I can go, ma’am,” the driver’s voice cuts through my thoughts, stopping the car a few hundred yards from Father’s. “And I’m going to have to charge you a flat fee for coming out this far.”
I nod and take the money from my purse, gently slipping out of the car and into the woods. My sandals crunch on leaves as I follow the distant rumble of his engine and the settling cloud of red dust his car kicked up. I keep to the edge of the track until I spot his car in front of a building that makes my stomach sink.
It’s a bungalow with peeling paint. Some parts of the building are dented, revealing rusted casting irons, and most of the windows are barred.
My heart picks up a harsh pace when he steps out, still with the same frantic look, and walks to the barred iron gates, unlocking the padlock with a key before walking through.
I wait for a few suffocating minutes before following. The padlock is jammed when I get there. Without thinking, I hoist myself up, scraping my hands on the iron before swinging over. A silent breath of relief pulls from my lips as I crouch down and walk through the narrow, graveled pathway. It looks deserted and eerie with mold and fungus growing along the walls.
A nervous shiver wracks my spine when I get to the entrance. The door is open, barely functional as it hangs off its hinges. I swallow thickly and slip inside, my steps shaky and tentative until I’m walking through a hallway.
Fear settles in my chest as I navigate through dim, flickering lights. Then I start to hear loud groans and the sound of metal rattling.
Against rational thoughts, I push further and my feet skitter to a halt when I turn into another long, dark hallway. The light flickers on once and a horrified gasp escapes my lips at the sight before me.
In the hallway is a row of cells, lined on either side of the wall and filled with living beings that look more like zombies than humans. They look pale, hollow-eyed…mentally challenged.
Bile rises in my throat. I try to stand, but my knees give way.
It feels like the air thins and alarm bells go off in my head. Almost immediately, I turn on my feet just as one of the patients hisses. Another one bangs the iron loudly, and a third hoots menacingly.
But somehow I hear it—my name in an all too familiar voice.
“Bella…”
