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Sherry snaps her eyes to me. “Olive said she had stumbled upon the Rouxs, I was hoping she hadn’t gotten too close, but it appears I was too late.”

“She’s a Barley?” Orzo is on his feet now too. “The last daughter?”

Benedict lets out a hardy laugh. “And I was going to marry her off to you Reuben, set you two up! Seems I didn’t even need to intervene.”

“She has chosen all three of us,” Orzo bites out. “We will reunite the families. We will all marry her. Then Kale will join the family. We will end the bad luck and we can quit this bullshit charade of forcing marriages every generation.”

There’s a loud beep that comes from his pocket and he curses loudly, running from the room.

I am still shell-shocked at the progression of bombs to process or think why he has left.

“Cinnamon is your granddaughter?” Colby asks, flabbergasted. “Oh god, sweetheart, Brandy, please don’t kill me.” He reaches for his wife’s hands but she swats him away.

“What has happened here?” Brandy narrows her eyes at him.

And then, before I can think to stop him, Colby spews the truth into the room. That it is Cinnamon who has cleaned up all our messes.

By the end of it, Sherry has fallen back into her seat, her head is in her hands and she shakes. For a single beat, I think she’s crying, but when she raises she is laughing. She wipes tears from her eyes. “My sweet granddaughter, she creates her own bad luck. Convinced it’s true, a placebo propelling her into horrible decision-making.”

“She’s a Barley—she has bad luck,” I quip back.

Sherry shakes her head. “None of us have bad luck. The Barleys don’t. The Rouxs don’t. It is simply a product of our original ancestors attempting to keep the families together. That is what it has always been. If you are told to look for a sign of something, it will appear. I tried to tell Cinny, but ever since her mother died, it was impossible to convince her.”

“My father blames Honey for all of his misfortune. He knew about her daughter.” Kale exhales next to me. “I didn’t know Honey’s name until now, but my father has been tracking down her daughter. He’s been searching for Cinnamon. He wants his revenge. Wants to make sure the Rouxs are not able to finalize their union to the Barleys.”

On that entirely ominous drop of knowledge, my phone rings on the table.

Orzo.

“Wha—”

“We left her alone. And now she is gone,” he grinds out.

“Gone?” I cannot understand what he is saying, I put the call on speaker.

“Cinnamon has been taken. Along with the dog. I’m pulling the camera feed now, but there’s only one person who knows we are here. Who would have any reason to take the little assassin.”

“My father,” Kale advises.

61

Exposing the Rotten Core

Cinnamon

Hanging above a vat of mystery liquid was not how I foresaw my kidnapping progressing.

But that is how I slammed back into consciousness.

Bark!

My head cranes downwards.

Beanie is tied up to a beam on the ground, the phone cord leash keeping her from escaping.

Twisting my head, I find I am in a large warehouse filled with oversized cylindrical vats like the one I currently hang over.

My eyes burn when I attempt to look down.