Page 70 of Manic

"Stay in the car!" I yell, not daring to take my eyes off my father.

He advances on me, his face a mask of cruel amusement. "You need to come back to the group, Meghan. Start working with us again."

I taste blood in my mouth, but I stand my ground.

"Never," I spit out. "I'm not going to work with you ever again. I don't believe in what you do."

My mind races.

How can I protect Tindra?

How can I get us out of this?

The weight of my past presses down on me, threatening to crush me.

But I can't let it.

I won't let him win.

His face contorts with rage, and before I can brace myself, another fist flies toward me.

This time, it connects with my jaw, the force of it knocking me to the ground.

I gasp, the wind knocked out of me as I hit the pavement.

"You ungrateful little bitch," he snarls, his foot connecting with my ribs.

Pain explodes through my body, and I curl in on myself instinctively.

I hear Tindra's muffled sobs from inside the car, and it fuels something primal inside me.

I can't let him near her.

I won't.

"You're disgusting," he spits, punctuating each word with another kick. "Despicable. I didn't raise you to be one of those nasty half-breed mixing sluts."

His words cut deeper than his blows, reopening old wounds I thought had long since healed.

But I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.

With a surge of adrenaline, I manage to roll away from his next kick.

My ribs scream in protest as I push myself up, facing him with fury blazing in my eyes.

"Leave us alone," I growl, my voice low and dangerous. "Me and my daughter. We're done with you and your twisted group."

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound chilling me to my core. "Oh, Meghan," he says, his tone dripping with mock pity. "You'll be coming back to the group one way or another. And so will that pretty little girl of yours. We need more breeders."

My blood runs cold as the implications of his words sink in.

Breeders.

That's what he sees us as. Nothing more than vessels to further his sick agenda.

"I'd rather die," I snarl, taking a step toward him.

My fists clench at my sides, every muscle in my body coiled and ready to spring.

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