Page 2 of Líadan's Code

Duncan stands, cracking his knuckles. “Your father should have drowned you at birth, girlie,” he rumbles as he ambles over to us. He’s a hulking beast of a man, not an ounce of fat anywhere on him. I don’t understand how he manages it since he likes his sweets as much as he does.

Brendan’s father is cruel to everyone around him. My best friend has suffered from unexplained broken bones for years, but Daddy told him to knock that shit off because if he continued, there would be no reason to train him to enter the mafia as a made man. Too many injuries eventually make the body sluggish, though Brendan has bounced back well from them all.

“Eh, there’s still time,” Daddy says, though there’s no heat to his words. He doesn’t even seem upset that I’m here. I think he’s only punishing me because there are other people here. “If you can get through this without shedding another tear, Líadan, that’ll be the end of it. Understood?”

I see the escape for what it is, and force myself to answer despite the pain I feel. “Yes. May I scream?” I ask.

Daddy gazes at me, a cruel smirk curling his thick lips. I don’t know how bad this is going to get, and even at twelve, I know how to negotiate. While most kids my age are asking for phones or new clothes, I’m asking for an outlet for pain. I’m not an idiot, everything has a loophole, especially with my father.

“Don’t be dramatic, but yes, that’ll be fine,” he says as if I asked for ice cream for dinner. His dark-green eyes gaze at me as if wondering if I’ll actually be able to go through with it.

“Brendan will be gone in Ireland visiting his uncles,” Duncan says conversationally. “This means he won’t be able to see any of the aftermath. We can do whatever we want to the chit.”

Daddy barks out a laugh, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard. My protector is gone, which I suppose is ironic for this situation.

“I bet he’s learning a lot from those psychopaths,” Daddy says. “You won’t have to listen to his indignation because you hurt my precious daughter. Keep it below the face, Duncan, would ya? I may still change my mind and just marry the chit off. It won’t do for her to be ugly and stupid.”

There’s too much happening as I try to focus my wheezing into better breathing and what they’re saying at the same time. My brain is on overload, my mind reeling over the fact that I’m being beaten by grown men.

Not for the first time, I wonder if I’ll survive Daddy’s special brand of parenting. Needless to say, I’m not prepared when Cormac yanks my head back and tightly pulls my wrists behind my spine. Duncan hits my throat, robbing me of my breath before punching my torso several times.

I can’t make a sound as I continue to struggle to breathe, and my legs sag underneath me as they give up the ghost.

“I don’t know why you have to make things so difficult,” Doyle says, leaning against the desk next to Daddy as Duncan pinches my cheeks as he gazes down at me cruelly. “I will say this, I haven’t seen a single tear. Let’s see if we can change that.”

My uncle leaves his position by my father’s side and proceeds to break three of my fingers, laughing at my screams, but never once do I cry. They don’t deserve those tears. I’ll lock them up tight where no one can find them.

Chapter One

Líadan

Five years later

Today is my seventeenth birthday, but it’s not a day to celebrate. There’s something big brewing in the family, and I’m scared that I don’t know what it is. When the family goes silent, nothing good can come of it.

Daddy is setting up some kind of party in my honor, and I feel uneasy about it. The maid dropped off a gorgeous red silk dress that looks as if it may be a size too small. There’s a plunging neckline, high thigh slit, and I’m not going to be able to sit in it, much less run if things go tits up.

It’s not at all like anything I’d remotely wear, and something my father would scoff at as being whore-ish. Nothing about this makes sense. I’m missing a big chunk of information that my father and his cronies are hiding from me.

I can feel the danger in my bones. My middle finger in my left hand is a little crooked, from the last time Uncle Doyle broke it a few months ago, and it never healed quite right. Brendan scowled for months about it, and I heard he racked up quite the kill count while it was healing.

He’s the executioner for Daddy, a budding monster to keep people in line.

I guess he’s the Boogeyman Daddy spoke about all those years ago.

Regardless, seventeen isn’t a big birthday, right? I don’t understand why he would be doing this today of all days.

A knock at my bedroom door makes me turn, forcing a smile onto my face.

“Come in,” I call out. Daddy gets angry if I’m not the perfect hostess, even if it’s my room and I don’t want anyone in it.

On the other hand, there aren’t many people who knock on this door, either. Daddy is very strict about anyone speaking to me where he can’t see. He’s full of contradictions, and it’s difficult for me to keep up with.

“Hey, Lía,” Brendan says, opening the door with a wide grin. “Happy birthday!”

He is the only one who calls me that, and never where my father or anyone else can hear. It’s our secret.

My smile becomes more real as I rush over and throw my arms around him. Brendan’s arms squeeze me tightly, and it doesn’t even hurt because no one has hit me in weeks.

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