Page 57 of Ruthless Reign

If he thought it was already blown.

And I knew in my gut Becca wouldn’t rat me out. And besides, if she had I’d have chewed lead by now. The girl had my address.

If Da wouldn’t be needing my cover anymore.

Which could only mean one thing: he planned to take Becca. Or worse…he already had her.

Nausea roiled in my stomach as I imagined his hands on her, inflicting pain. The snap of his whip against her smooth ivory skin, marring it forever.

My newer wounds were only just starting to scab over and the lacerations were at the stage where they itched like a bastard but I knew better than to touch them. It would only worsen the scars, possibly cause infection, and make them heal more slowly.

I needed to be at my best if I had any chance of…

Of what?

Did saving Becca mean directly opposing Da?

How far was I really willing to go to keep her safe?

If I had to choose between him and her, how could I do that and?—

I cut off the thought, refocusing on the road ahead as Blue Oyster Cult filled the car, telling me not to fear the reaper.

I should’ve just kidnapped her myself. I thought about it. That day in the supply closet at CalArts. If she hadn’t mentioned that Hardin and Kaleb were just outside I might’ve followed through with the intrusive thought. At least if I had her my father wouldn’t be able to get his hands on her. I could’ve kept her safe.

If he did have her I would kill Hardin and Kaleb myself for allowing her to fall into his hands. If they let her be taken, then they didn’t deserve her.

One of my two phones chimed in the passenger seat, and I couldn’t help frowning when I saw it was the one on the right. Not Becca, then.

I checked the message, finding a text that had to be from Da.

Unknown

You’re late.

I’d be there in two minutes, so I didn’t bother replying, adjusting myself in the seat, sitting higher, scanning the hills and valleys for signs of Saints or our men hiding just out of range.

I exchanged my new burner for my older one on the seat, flicking it open to check for the twelfth time for a reply from Becca, but still there was none.

I scrolled back through our conversation, teeth clicking with how hard I clenched them. By now I knew almost every word of our old text conversations by heart. There were a lot of them. We talked almost daily for a while. I found the texts I sent her after that night I found her on the side of the road, alone and crying, a few miles from Damien St. Vincent’s house.

She stayed in my car for hours. We talked and didn’t talk until she was ready for me to bring her back to her apartment. And then I texted her to remind her of what I told her in the car, needing her to remember.

Aodhán

Blood isn’t everything.

Your family is who you choose.

Her reply came within a few minutes.

Becca

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