Saving my family’s lives is one thing, but being a witness to a murder? Or…murders…? Jesus, that’s another. My lip trembles just thinking about it. I want to speak up, to beg for them toleave me out of it, to take me back to the hotel. But I can’t get the words out.
My grandfather sighs. “Alasdair’s pool is a lot deeper. She’ll thank me for exposing her to this kind of stuff before she’s alone with him in Ireland.”
“When’s he taking her?”
“He wants the wedding to be next week. I’m sure they’ll go back to Ireland shortly after.”
Next week?I’m going to be married to himnextweek?None of this is normal. None of it isgood.It shows just how much this isn’t about me. No one gives a whit about what I want. I’m not even picking my own wedding date.
They’re talking about me like I’m not even here. It’s almost humiliating, but I’m learning more information from it than I would if they weren’t talking, so I’m not going to complain. Not that I would anyways. I’m too damn scared, and my thoughts are too loud.
At that short of a timeline, it’s not going to be anything special. I’m not going to have any time to plan anything at all, even if I was allowed to. Even if Iwantedto. Which, based on how things have gone so far, I doubt that anyone would even bother to askwhat I want. But hey, what bride cares about what her wedding is like, after all?
Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? My opinions and feelings won’t matter? My dreams and aspirations pushed to the side? No one even bothers to ask?
If I’m being honest, that’s kind of what my life is like anyway, but at least before I could separate myself from my family and just…be alone. If no one is around, no one tramples over me.
But now I didn’t even have a choice. I’d be married, and my husband won’t even care to ask what I want.Ever.
The driver and my grandfather talk for a few more minutes, but I mostly tune them out. My grandfather takes time tocomplain about the Irish Demon a lot. From what I hear, he doesn’t really like him. Last night, Kerry apparently threatened him in some wayagain,so now my grandfather is venting his frustration. He also curses about someone named Marshall.
We go outside the city, and it takes a good hour. I don’t say a word the entire time, and neither of the men address me.
When we finally pull off the road, it’s at some run-down restaurant. I feel like I’m going to be sick as my grandfather gets out with the driver. He taps on the glass of my window. “Out.”
I feel my hands shaking as I open the door and step out. My grandfather closes the door once I’m barely out of it, almost hitting me with it. He follows after the driver, who’s already gone inside of the restaurant. Maybe we’re going to get some lunch first? A girl can hope. I’m starving.
My grandfather tosses his coffee cup on the gravel before stepping inside.Littering now, too? Really?I give a soft sigh, not loud enough for my grandfather to hear.
As I nervously enter the restaurant behind him, the door nearly hits my face as my grandfather lets it close on me, not even checking to see how close I am behind him. I guess he just assumes I’m going to follow.
I look behind me. I could make a run for it and avoid seeing whatever gruesome acts my grandfather plans for me to witness. But we’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by trees. Where would I go? What would I do? I have no one to help me.
I haven’t told my mom about this whole situation for a reason. She’s going to freak out, and I just don’t have the capacity to handle that now. I’d have to calm her down and help her through this situation, which would be horrible because I don’t even know how I can calm myself down. My nerves are getting out of control, even if I’m doing a good job hiding it. I’m used to hiding my real feelings anyways.
No way I’m calling my dad. He’ll probably be drunk if my luck is any indication.
I’d call Lily, my best friend, but she’s hours away and doesn’t drive. So it’s not like we’d do more than make dark jokes about my situation, which has only gotten worse since my grandmother told me about my arranged marriage.
I could call an Uber back to the city, but frankly, I don’t have the money for that.
I’m trapped here, at the mercy of my grandfather. And nothing could terrify me more than being at the mercy of a man who doesn’t even think to tell me when my wedding will be.
The thought of calling Mr. Irish Demon crosses through my mind, but I don’t have his number. And even if I did, this was his idea, too. He’d probably just laugh and tell me to get used to it.
God, I don’t want to get used to this.
The restaurant is deserted, making my stomach twist with anxiety and fear.Guess we aren’t stopping for lunch.The air in here is stale, and there’s a layer of grime and dust everywhere. Flies buzz around the dining area, and most of the chairs are on the tables, like the restaurant got closed up for the night and just never reopened.
My grandfather and his lackey don’t loiter in the dining area, but head straight towards the back. I follow them, feeling shakier with every step, and not just because I haven’t eaten anything today.
It’s colder back here, the reek of mold invading my nose as I step through the swinging double doors. There’s a group of men waiting around here, all of them armed, and none of them looking particularly friendly. They nod respectfully to my grandfather, and some of them eye me curiously, others eye me like a piece of meat. It makes me take an instinctive step back.
“What we got? You said five of ‘em?” My grandfather asks, and a bearded man in a black wifebeater nods, his short brown hair shaved close to his head.
“Yeah. Five. Caught ‘em trying to get out. Three of ‘em were speaking to Marshall, looking to move to his gang. We don’t know the plans of the other two. We suspect at least one of ‘em was speaking to the pigs.”
Oh god.Traitors trying to leave? Speaking to the police? This felt like something out of a movie, not real life.
