Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
It’s always been ash. Everything around me has burned from the moment I was old enough to understand. Nothing is permanent, not loyalty, not friendship.
But blood—and love—
I turn to find June tucking Marnie back into bed. I shove my gun back into my waistband.
“You’re a good friend,” I tell Marnie. “You were trying to help her, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, well, I fucked up the first time.” She grimaces and smiles sadly. “Couldn’t do much this time either.”
“You’re better than half the trash I have working for me.” I hold out a hand to June and pull her to me. I kiss her hard, holding her tight, making sure she’s not hurt. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” she promises, running her hands through my hair. Tears fall freely down her cheeks. “God, Rafe, I was so scared he was going to hurt Hattie.”
“Never again. I swear it, love. Never, ever again.”
“What are we going to do?”
“First, we’re going to make sure you’re all really okay. Then we’re going to take care of our enemies the only way I know how.”
“With blood?”
“Blood and fire, baby. Blood and fucking fire.”
33
JUNE
Light streams down through a small tree. Vines on the back wall flutter in the breeze. Hattie laughs, running in circles as Priya pretends to chase her.
I stretch my back, my shoulders getting tired from being tense all the time.
Byron’s dead. I wanted to go to the funeral but Rafe wouldn’t let me. I understood but it still hurt. Rafe swore he’d take care of Byron’s family and would always honor his name, since he was the only one who tried to save me.
Hattie’s been having bad dreams. I sleep in her bed most nights now. I miss Rafe’s warmth, his arms around my body, but we both know Hattie comes first. In the morning, when she wakes with tears streaking her face, she always asks why I seem upset. When I try to explain about her dreams and her thrashing, she looks confused, like she has no idea what I’m talking about.
I hate what this has done to her.
Rafe does too. I can see how heavy it hangs in his chest.
Knowing we might’ve scarred our daughter.
At least Priya stuck with it. She’s full-time now and doing what she can to work through Hattie’s trauma.
There are fewer guards here at the townhouse. I don’t know how I feel about that. Since it’s smaller, Rafe says it’s slightly easier to defend. I still shy away from the men when they’re around, and Rafe makes sure to order them to be as unintrusive as possible. The guards are polite, but I don’t know what will make me trust them again.
I’m not sure anything will.
“I had a feeling about that fucker,” Marnie says over the phone a few hours later. Priya’s giving Hattie math lessons in the basement while I sit in the kitchen. “Nunzio was so fucking creepy, we should’ve known from the start.”
“Rafe put his faith in him.”
“Yeah, and maybe your husband doesn’t have the best taste in people.”
“He married me, remember?”
“Broken clocks are right twice a day.”
“Marnie.”
“Okay, okay, I’m just pissed, that’s all. This place is so boring without you guys. At least Birdie came back to work. And the physical therapist…”
“What about him?”
“The guy’s hot as hell. I don’t mind when he tries to stretch me out. Honestly, I wish he’d stretch more than my muscles…”
“Marnie!”
I feel unmoored as the days crawl past. It’s like I’m slipping down a vast ravine, tumbling over and over, but I don’t seem to be going anywhere. I should be falling—I should be hurting—and instead I’m only trapped.
Rafe makes it feel better. When he’s around my shoulders can ease and my jaw unclenches. I feel safe, but only when he’s in the house.
Which is less often right now.
About a week after Nunzio’s attack, I come downstairs to find Rafe in the kitchen with Hattie. I pause, quietly watching, as my massive, tattooed, scarred, terrifying husband whistles and cooks her pancakes. She keeps asking him questions about which ponies he likes best, which unicorns would win in a fight, and he dutifully answers. He’s always wrong, but he never loses patience.
It’s perfection. For a brief moment, I can forget the pain we’ve gone through lately.
Rafe even laughs like Hattie does. Her head bobs side to side when she cackles, and Rafe does that too. They have so many matching mannerisms and it shocks me, how alike they are. How much they seem to love being around each other.
This is what I’ve always wanted.
Hattie’s happy. Her father’s here and taking care of her. Even back before Rafe came storming into our life again, I had daydreams about this. What it might be like if things had been different.
If we’d been married.
Now I’m the monster’s wife, and that’s not even the worst part.