Would he see everything I’ve done as betrayal? It is, though, it fucking is.
I never should’ve agreed to this. My heart aches to think of what happens next. My father’s tentacles are so deep, there’s no escape for either of us. He knows people fucking everywhere.
For one brief moment, I even contemplate running away with Mac. Telling him the truth, telling him the danger that we're in, and convincing him to hide with me and find another place where we can be.
But I know that that's foolish, and as soon as I think the thought, I banish it altogether. I can't talk him into doing that. He's dedicated to his family; his whole world is right here. I can’t take him away from everything that has meaning to him.
My phone buzzes, and I feel as if I’m going to be sick. With trembling fingers, I look at the message.
Dad: When you go to take your ride back, you’ll be handed a bag. Take the bag. Further instructions to follow.
I walk briskly beside Mac when someone calls his name. He looks over at a bloke standing to the side, just as a uniformed server walks past me. She smiles, and hands me a purse.
“You forgot your bag, miss.”
I take the bag she gives me with trembling hands, like it’s carrying a bomb. “Thank you.”
And that quickly, she’s gone.
I brought a small clutch here tonight, but this is a larger bag. It isn’t heavy at all, but I feel as if it’s made of lead. I tuck my clutch into the bag and swing the strap over my shoulder, and it hangs by my side.
It looks just like another bag I had before, so when Mac returns to me, he doesn’t even notice. I feel as if I’m carrying a ticking time bomb.
Everything feels surreal, as if it’s moving in slow motion.
“You don’t look well, lass. Are you feeling poorly?”
I am. I feel as if I’m going to be sick.
I nod, and swallow hard. “Aye,” I whisper, stifling a yawn. “Not feeling well at all. Maybe I need some rest.”
We climb into the car and he nods. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit?”
So I do, my mind spinning through the choices I have, trying to formulate a plan for how to escape. But I can't come up with anything, not yet.
I know we're being watched. And I know I have to talk him into taking me.
When we land in Paris, we’ll be watched there as well.
If I don't do what my father says, my life is over. I know this now. There is no hope to escape the Aitkens Clan. Maybe there never was.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I open my eyes. I shield the screen from Mac, but he isn’t even looking my way.
Dad:In your bag is a vial. It’s poisonous. You’ll have drinks with him, slip this in his drink. Send me a picture so I’ll know you’ve done what I told you.
I starein shock and horror at the text. Is he joking? He can’t be. How can this possibly be what he wants me to do? How could I have been so stupid?
Mac’s distracted, so I quickly respond.
Bryn: You didn’t tell me I would kill him! You told me to seduce him. To trick him. You didn’t say kill!
Dad:Do you really think there’s any place for you in this Clan if you can’t follow the simplest of tasks? Perhaps you should be wed to another after all.
I shovemy phone in the bag and see the little bottle inside.
Mac looks over at me. He frowns with concern and reaches his palm to touch my forehead. The gesture’s so tender, a lump rises in my throat.
“You do feel a wee bit clammy. Something you ate at the wedding?”
