Page 38 of Heartless Sinner

I shake my head and try to answer, but a sob rips from my throat.

“Scarlett. Tell me what happened.”

"It was blank," I choke out, holding my chest like my heart may fall out. "The fucking chip was blank, so they didn’t pay.”

Dad’s face drains of all the color, and he looks like someone syphoned the life from his body.

Still, he seems to summon that fatherly strength I’ve seen way too many times. “You did more than your best, sweetie. You did more than I could have ever asked for.”

“Dad. The money…” Uncontrollable tears stream down my cheeks. “Anton's men are coming tomorrow and…"

I can't breathe. Can't think. Can’t pick my thoughts apart. The walls are closing in, and all I can see is the disaster that will happen tomorrow when Anton's men come to collect a debt we can't pay.

Dad pulls me into his arms like I'm still five years old, his bad leg trembling. His cologne—the same brand he's worn my whole life—fills my nose as I sob into his shirt.

"Shh, baby girl. I'll deal with Anton’s men when they come. Right now, I need you to calm down then get your things and get as far away from here as possible. I have some cash?—"

"No." I pull away and glare up at him. "You want to send me away?”

“Scarlett, this has already gone too far. I never wanted you involved. You’ve already done too much. It’s a father’s job to protect his children. All I’ve done is put you in danger.”

“Dad. Let me stay. Anton... he wants me back. Staying here may soften the blow. I could talk to him.”

"Scarlett—" His voice breaks on my name.

"Please, Dad. I don’t care what you say. I won't leave you to face those men alone. I’m not Johnny."

“I know, baby girl. You’re better than this. You deserved better than all of this. I failed you.”

I shake my head. “No. Please don’teversay that. Now listen to me. I’m staying. You know we stand a chance if I’m here. I will talk to him, and we can try to come up with some kind of solution.”

Dad rests his hands on my shoulders, then he pulls me into the warmth of his embrace.

We stay in the living room for the rest of the day and night. As if we’re scared to be apart.

The storm outside matches the one in my chest. It rained right through to the next day and we counted down every tick of the clock.

Noon arrives, and the knock on the door sounds like a death knell.

When Dad opens it, ten of Anton's men file inside, their suits pristine, their eyes as cold as the dead.

I stand by the living room doorway, my body heavy under the tension clinging to the air.

Dad straightens his shoulders and my heart breaks at how brave he's trying to be. The guy who was here the other night walks up to him with a broad smile on his horrible face.

“I trust you have the money, Mr. James,” he says in an almost sing-song voice.

"I'm sorry, but I didn’t make it. I don’t have the money to pay but?—"

A hard fist connects with Dad’s jaw before he can finish, making him stumble backward, his bad leg twisting beneath him with a crack that will haunt my nightmares.

"Dad!" I scream, lunging forward, but rough hands grab me and slam me to the floor.

Two of the men hold me down, the carpet burning against my cheek as I’m forced to stay where I am.

Through tears, I watch the men circle my father and take turns kicking him.

Each kick draws a howl of pain that tears at my soul.

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