Page 2 of Fatal Fantasy

It’s a slim consolation, but if I’m lucky, my father will pull the fucking trigger the second I step on the plane, reuniting me with Tyson in a place nobody could ever touch us.

“Take this.” The man who’s been my escort hands me his jacket, a small glimmer of humanity in his eyes, and I slip the fabric over my shoulders, silently thanking him for the shred of dignity he’s given me.

After all, it’s been months since I’ve seen my father, and I don’t think a grand reveal of the names carved into my hips is the right move, now or ever.

“Duchess, you made it,” he says as I board the plane, and I can only imagine how I look in his eyes right now.

Dirty, disheveled, and defeated would be the words I’d use, but I was just in a fire fight, so hopefully he doesn’t hold it against me.

Still, I square my shoulders, erasing the emotion from my face as I take the seat across from him, prepared to endure his wrath.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper, my throat hoarse from the smoke and screaming, but he doesn’t even flinch at the imperfect way I’ve shown up.

“I can’t say that I’m proud of you right now. Everything I’ve heard about you and those boys made my stomach turn. You were sent here on a mission, and you failed,” he says sternly, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes, knowing that arguing with him right now isn’t even worth a breath.

“What happened to three days?” I ask, wondering why this attack was moved up, and if he lied to me on purpose.

“Did you think we wouldn’t hear from the man you tortured? You wouldn’t have been here if I’d waited any longer, Carter. You tried to leave this family,” he explains, and I drop my head in my hands, wishing I’d killed that son of a bitch when I had the chance.

“So what now, Daddy? I don’t take the throne right away?” I ask, but he’s silent, avoiding eye contact, and when he sighs as the plane takes off – pulling out his phone and ignoring my question – it’s clear that we’re not having an open conversation.

Laying back against the seat, I feel the utter exhaustion from the night’s events creeping into my bones, settling right into my soul, and I’ve never been more desperate to fall into a place where I have no thoughts, feelings, or emotions.

The second my eyes close, the nothingness immediately consumes me, my body leaning into the place where I’m free from the pain being held over my head. I’ve never been more thankful for complete silence, and if I could, I’d stay here forever.

Instead of hiding in my subconscious, I’m ripped back into reality at the sound of my father’s voice, the peace bubble I submersed myself in cruelly popping.

“When we return, you are on lockdown. You will be reintroduced into the Cassini family in a different capacity, once the man I’ve arranged for you to marry is confident that you aren’t a threat to our legacy.” He spells out how things are going to go, and I can’t even process his words, completely in shock at what I’m hearing.

I may have been born into this life, but I never agreed to being held prisoner.

“I don’t need a man to keep me in line, and I sure as hell am not marrying one,” I argue, folding my arms across my chest in protest, but am met with the rage I should’ve expected.

“Carter, you will do exactly as I say, with no complaints. You made a mess of this operation, and destroyed your chances of becoming the heiress you were born to be!” He shouts, his firm voice bouncing off the leather seats, but I don’t even flinch, refusing to show an ounce of emotion as he unleashes his wrath on me.

“If I can’t have the throne then let me go! I can create a life for myself elsewhere, cut ties with the Cassini name, and forget any of this ever happened,” I bargain, using one final sliver of hope to attempt to argue for my freedom.

“You are my child, Carter. There is nowhere for you to go. I suggest you forget about those boys, because if I even hear their names, you’ll regret it.”

“Can you at least tell me if they’re alive? For Christ’s sake, you made me leave one of them while he was bleeding out!”

We argue back and forth, my smart mouth and quick wit being thrown right back at me, as I’ve studied my father’s personality my entire life, choosing to morph it into my own, back when I thought becoming the mirror image of him was my destiny, the portal to a dream that’s since been decimated.

“The attack on those families is what we sent you here to do. Any casualties are your fault, as you strayed from the mission. You were not sent across the country to whore yourself out like some cheap slut, and to be frank, you’re lucky I’ve even considered having you home. You disgust me, Carter,” he spits, the venom dripping off each syllable as he delivers the worst thing he’s ever said to me – as if I’m nothing but one of his men.

We’re not equals anymore, and I’m realizing just how short the leash is when you’re the daughter of a Don, even if he made you the center of his world, and eventual successor.

“Just fucking kill me, then. I did everything you asked, including moving here to expand your empire! After all of this, everything I endured, I’m not going to be your prisoner, Dad. I refuse.”

Before I can make a face, assert myself to be taken seriously, or even inhale a breath, he leans forward in the seat, the back of his hand connecting with my cheek.

The slapping of skin echoes around the otherwise silent plane, but I don’t dare show a sliver of emotion, biting the tip of my tongue to keep a single tear from escaping.

If he wants to keep me, he’ll have to fucking break me, and I turn to read his eyes, trying to gauge what he’s thinking. There’s a raging fire brewing behind my irises, and I can sense what he’s up to, an all knowing look coming from the bright baby blues identical to mine.

The real war is happening internally, the first battle being launched directly across from me, but I’m the product of him, and he should be afraid of the strength I possess.

The rest of the ride is silent, and I let my mind wander, thinking maybe he’s taking the time to process my request, or conjuring all the ways it’d be deemed acceptable to murder your own daughter, but for now, I’m just thankful that our conversation is over.