Page 156 of Manacled Hearts

“Impressive?”

My head whips to him in time to see an annoyingly striking grin pulling at his lips, and I snort, shaking my head.

“Do you not see how worrying it looks to me that you were able to pull this off?”

He shrugs as he drives us through one of Queenscove’s main boulevards. “It’s nothing.”

“Not in my world.”

“Our.”

“What?” I frown.

“Our world, Evie darling. Fight it all you want, but you’re one of us. You fit. More importantly,” the car stops at some traffic lights, and he turns his gaze to me, “you’re mine.”

A shudder rips through me as goosebumps bloom over my spine.

“Will I still be yours if I decide to leave?”

His gaze sears through me, but no answer comes. As strange as it seems, I know why. If he answers the question, he’ll risk doing just that—manipulate me. Even without trying.

He drives off when the traffic lights turn, and my breaths lighten as his attention shifts.

“Look in the glove box,” he tells me.

“For what?”

Is this his answer to my question?

“An envelope. Open it.”

Confused, I do as told and pull a large, brown envelope out. Parting the end, I start to pull out a bunch of papers and frown as I look at Finn. Something about the feel of the paper seems a bit too official. A little too thin, yet freshly printed. He nods, signaling me to keep going, even as my hands gently shake. I’m not sure where my reluctance is coming from, but it takes me a few seconds to look over the documents.

I gasp, my hand rushing to my mouth, blinking repeatedly like those words are a mirage and I expect them to disappear any moment now.

“This can’t be,” I mutter to myself, blinking excessively like that black-on-white ink is going to rearrange itself back to the real words.

Surely this cannot be.

But the words stay put.

Tears brim my eyes as they widen with every new sentence, every set of words, every single time mine and my sister’s names are mentioned.

“How?” is all I manage to whisper, as Finn’s phone rings, making me jump.

“We have friends in high places,” he answers as he rejects the call.

I don’t even care if what he means is that he blackmailed a bunch of people, or broke some legs, because these documents state, nice and damn clear, that I am Maya’s official guardian.

“You did this for me. I have custody,” I say in disbelief, heat flooding my soul and wrapping around my heart. This man…

His phone rings again, and he mutters curses as he presses a button on his car screen.

“Where are you?”

That sounds like Vincent barking on the other line.

“About a minute away from home.”

---