“The only person who vaguely remembers you is a fruit vendor, but I’m not sure that I can trust anything he says since he’s still dealing with the consequences of stealing from me.”
“The second my father returns, I promise to splatter your brain all over this floor, so you can learn the consequences of breaking and entering.”
“Mr. Arwyn is your father?” He raises his eyebrow. “Does that mean Izzie is your sister?”
My cheeks flush red at my rushed admission.
“Are you his by way of another woman? Or did your parents decide not to make a record of you to avoid paying taxes?”
“That’s none of your business.”
He nods and gestures to his henchman. “I guess you were right, Lafayette. So, since he’s your father, I think you know exactly where he is, and I’m giving you five seconds to tell me.”
“I really don’t know,” I say. “The last time I saw him, he…” My voice locks in my throat as I remember how Father acted the day he left, how his goodbye felt more than final.
And there was all the whispering he and Izzie did the night before…
Izzie’s rush to leave alone, to keep the house as dark as possible, makes a lot more sense now.
She knew that they weren’t coming back…
“Time’s up.” Gabriel says, and my plan of cracking a bottle over his head instantly dissolves as ten more henchmen file through the open door.
“Check the basement and check every loose floorboard in the bedrooms,” Gabriel bellows. “Now.”
They follow his command, knocking portraits off the walls and toppling every piece of furniture. They storm the basement steps and sounds of destruction follow.
“There’s no one down here, Boss!” a henchman calls. “Nothing under the floorboards except photographs and writings!”
The veins in Gabriel’s neck swell, and he clenches his jaw.
“Okay, look, Belle. I’ll ask you one more time,” he says, speaking slowly. “Where the fuck is your father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Fair enough.” He hisses. “I don’t have any more patience, so I’ll take you.”
“Take me where?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” He snaps his fingers, and one of his men places a leather satchel on the table. “Fill that with whatever you need and be ready.”
“For what?”
“Our trip to Hell.” He looks me up and down. “I’ll retrieve you at dawn. You can make yourself useful by leaving a letter for your father and Izzie, in case they do return while you’re away.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Did you hear me asking?” His eyes blaze with rage. “Does it sound like you have a choice?”
I can only stare at him, feeling helpless.
“I thought so.” He turns away from me, walking out of the house, and his men follow.
The door slams shut behind them, and I hear his deep commands from the other side.
“Stay here and guard the door,” he says. “Make sure she doesn’t take a single breath outside until I return.”
“Yes, sir.”
I peer out the peephole and watch a lone henchman pace on our steps for hours.
When the moon rises, he slumps against the door, resting a rifle in his lap.
I wait until I’m sure he’s sleeping and stuff everything I value into my own satchel…even the rose bloom.
Heading to Izzie’s bedroom, I climb through her window and let go of the pane once my feet hit the grass. I wander toward the back of our house, plucking as many apples as I can from the orchard, and then I run toward the fields and into the woods.
If they want to make me disappear, I’ll disappear on my own…
Worth the Risk
Belle
I have to tell my book friend goodbye…
My heart is reeling at the thought of it, but I can’t dare leave him hanging like I did the last time.
He means too much to me.
The sky’s clouds are looming low and threatening rain—an omen that I should avoid returning to the bookstore at all costs—but my mind is already made up.
I peer through a clearing in the woods that overlooks the village and wait for the town square’s morning bell.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I pull a scarf over my face and make my move.
Weaving between the vendors and villagers, I look both ways before slipping inside the store.
“Good morning, whoever you are!” Mr. Lorimer calls from the back. “I’ll be with you after I find my glasses!”
I don’t bother responding.
I rush to my usual bookshelf and grab A Midsummer’s Night Dream, flipping to the last page.
He’s already written me back?
* * *
I’m very sorry to hear about your father’s cruelty again. Would you like me to deal with him for you?
I can. Just let me know…
Once I do that, can we finally meet in person?
Also, you were right about this book.
I hate it.
Pick something else.
—Your Only Friend
Although nothing would make me happier than seeing my father suffer, it’s far too late for that now.
I appreciate your offer, and even though he deserves it, I’ll have to pass…