My father, a man I should love. The man who raised me. Fed me. Clothed me. Now with his touch wreaks havoc in my body. My body responds like he’s the enemy instead of my protector.
Tears water in my eyes, but my father still grips my fist.
“Leave Katherine.”
I close my eyes.
Fear, hatred, rage. All of the emotions fill me as my father controls me with his touch. I can’t break free.
How can I ever win against Enzo when I can’t even tolerate my own father’s touch?
I can’t.
At least not now—and I don’t know how long I have until the first task, but I will find a way to at least tolerate touch.
I will not be held captive by another man’s grasp ever again.
“Let her go,” Enzo’s voice booms.
My father turns in Enzo’s direction, but his grip doesn’t loosen.
“I said. Let. Her. Go.”
My father lets go, and I can breathe again.
Enzo walks toward us. Each step breathing more life into me with his calm fierceness.
Enzo’s eyes run up and down me, looking for any sign that I’m hurt. I’m sure from the expression of terror on my face he thinks my father hurt me.
He did, but not in the way Enzo is imagining. My father hurt me by never protecting me. He was never a real father. True fathers don’t lie to their children.
When Enzo is satisfied I’m not truly hurt, he turns back to my father. “Clean up the mess in my office, Miller.”
I should cringe at the cruel way Enzo treats my father. But I don’t. My father deserves it. And if I can’t dish it out, then I’ll let Enzo.
My father looks at me one last time. And I see blankness in his eyes. No emotion. No caring. I’m not sure if he ever truly cared about me. Or if I was just the stupid girl who thought her father was different than all the rest.
And as much as I want to feel nothing back, I do. I still feel hope. Hope that the reason my father never told me of this world was for my protection. That he tried to hide me from this world to keep me safe and now that I’m here in it, it hurts him so much that he turned off his emotions.
“Yes, Mr. Rinaldi,” my father says, using Enzo’s real name.
Enzo frowns, his lips tighten into slits ready to order my father around.
“We aren’t done,” I say as my father begins to walk inside. My voice has more hope than I wanted to convey. Hope that my father does really love me; he just doesn’t know how to protect me now that I’m no longer a child.
My father nods in agreement before disappearing inside to clean up the mess Enzo ordered him to clean up.
Wait…mess?
“What mess is my father cleaning up?”
I stare at Enzo, and that’s when I see the cuts on his knuckles. The blood splatter on his jacket.
He killed Dallas.
There is no doubt in my mind.
I can’t handle this. Not now.