Page 119 of A Twisted Arrangement

“You did this. You took my brothers.”

Scarlet shakes in my arms, body trembling as she begs me to understand. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t do this. I swear.”

Each word is more of a plea than the last, and against my better judgment, I find my fingers loosening. Even at sixteen, I’ve learned to detect a lie. A glance away, a twitch, calculation, but her fear-filled, glistening eyes never leave mine.

“Explain.Now,” I grit through my teeth. I should kill her, smear her brother’s name across the wall with her blood. Show him exactly what happens when you mess with the Everette family.

As if feeling the shift in me, she stutters.

“I don’t…I didn’t… They’re keeping me here…”

Fat teardrops roll over her cheeks, and I fight the urge to catch one.

“What do you mean they keep you here?”

“My brother—” she cries out when my fingers tighten, but she doesn’t stop. “He made me come.”

Trembling, sobbing, terrified. That’s how I’d describe the girl in front of me. It’s easy to see she’s as much of a captive as I am.

Just a little sparrow caught in her cage.

“What happened to my little brothers?” I demand.

“They’re in a different room,” she replies immediately.

Hope is sour in my throat. “You’ve seen them?”

“Yes…just a little. They’re together, confined in a bedroom but not chained.”

Relief washes over me. They’re okay. Or as okay as this fucked-up situation will allow.

“What about my father?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

She looks away. “He’s dead.”

I release her after she confirms what I already suspected, and she collapses forward, hands pressed into the hardwood floor, gasping breaths wheezing out of her. The twist in my chest has me looking away, giving her time to piece herself back together.

It’s the first chance I have to examine my surroundings. Surprisingly, it’s a regular room, not a dungeon like I’d expect these assholes to have. There’s a large oak desk, two club chairs pushed out of my reach, and a bookcase that lines the far wall. The odd angle of one of the shelves catches my attention. It’s as if it’s been pushed forward to open like a door.

“Is that how you got in here?” I ask a now glaring Scarlet. There’s a fire in her gaze that does a decent job of covering the fear that lies below.

Good. She should be afraid. If she’d been smart, she’d have moved out of my reach and gotten the fuck out of here.

She rubs at her arm where finger-sized bruises are already forming. “I grew up coming here in the summer. It was to my advantage to spend a lot of time finding hidden spots in this old castle.”

“There are no castles in Boston.”

She sighs. “Did you really think they’d keep you close to home?”

Fuck. I race through possible scenarios, but nothing good can come from keeping us alive.

Scarlet lifts a needle and thread, reminding me of what she said earlier. Warm liquid slides down my face, and the sensation of blood pooling in the divot above my collarbone makes me want to gag.

She raises one delicate brow. “Are you going to let me finish, or am I going to watch you bleed out?”

I place my hands behind me in a sign of peace and tilt my head forward to give her a better angle. No matter what else is happening, she’s my best bet right now.

She lifts to kneel, bringing her face inches from mine, and I can just make out the rim of yellow and pale purple that surrounds her right eye.

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