I’ve already put it off as long as possible, insisting Ethan teach me how to make French toast for breakfast so I could cook for everyone.
Then I insisted on unpacking all my painting stuff.
I showed the guys the one house I can’t stop going back to.
And then I needed to fix my nest.
I’ve changed shirts twice thanks to all the nervous sweating I’ve been doing.
I can’t put it off anymore.
We sit at the kitchen table, ready to make the phone call that will set us all free.
So why do I feel so scared?
“You’ve got this Dove.” Teddy squeezes my knee. “Give it to ‘em good.”
“We’re right here.” Brennan reminds me.
“And remember, even if they had the best people, nobody can trace my phones,” Ethan adds, nodding. “They can’t find you.”
Right. They don’t know where I am. They never will. We’ll just deliver our threat, and then hope they listen to it.
Sighing, I nod once. “I’ve got this,” I repeat, more to myself than to anyone else.
My heartrate doubles when I press call.
The phone rings.
And rings.
And rings…
I swear to fuck, if he doesn’t even answer after all he’s put me through—
“Hello?” The brisk voice fills the kitchen, and I freeze.
Father.
The last words he spoke in my presence,“Get her out of my sight”, ring in my head.
“Hello?” Father’s impatient tone rings out, making me curl in on myself.
I can’t bear the way my guys look at me. Like I’m broken. Maverick shakes his head, reaching for the phone, and finally, finally, my voice decides to work. “Father?”
A beat of silence. “Wren?” He doesn’t sound happy. He doesn’t even sound relieved. “Wren, where thefuckare you?”
I can feel the guys stiffen at his tone, but they keep quiet.
“I’m not telling you that.” My voice shakes slightly, but gets more steady with every word.
“What do youmeanyou won’t tell me that?” I can hear the venom in his voice. “I am yourfather,and you willdo as I tell you!”
Not even a full minute on the phone and he’s already back to his old ways, making demands and trying to verbally beat me into submission.
Usually, if his voice got this angry, it would be followed by a punishment of some sort. But…nothing happens. His hand doesn’t fly out of the phone to strike me, he doesn’t burst into the kitchen to make me pay for my insolence. Hecan’ttouch me.
And if he tried, my men would kill him.
