Page 17 of The Hermit

“Don’t you dare do that,” I mutter, my voice a little too harsh. “If it comes to that, we’ll leave together. Where you go, I go.”

She nods, a glimmer of relief shining in her clear blue eyes.

When I rise to my full height, she wraps her arms around my hips and rests her cheek against my stomach.

As I brush my hand over her hair, my eyes follow the path to the cottage.

When our mother passed away, Ciara was only fifteen. I took over the role as her mother, and not once have I regretted it.

She might not be the strongest person on this planet, but she’s kind-hearted, caring, and sweet.

She’s a much better person than me, and I’ll fight my ass off to keep her from being destroyed the way I was.

My bedroom door slams open, and when Dad stalks toward us, it has me pulling away from Ciara and taking a protective stance in front of her.

Rage tightens his features as his eyes lock on me, and when he’s in reaching distance of me, his arm swings back.

It all happens in a split second, but instead of cowering, I lift my chin, looking him dead in his eyes.

His arm freezes, and a moment later, he drops it to his side.

The corners of my lips turn down with overwhelming disappointment in Dad.

Before Mom died, Dad used to be loving and attentive. When we were young, he read us bedtime stories and gave us piggyback rides. When we were teens, he spoiled us rotten with the prettiest clothes and gifts.

But then Mom died, and Dad grew cold.

Up until the moment he gave me to Braden Mallon so he could secure the African market, I had the utmost respect for my father.

I loved our father as much as I loved Ciara. But then he traded me and left me for two years to be raped and beaten.

Even if he had Braden killed, it doesn’t change anything. Dad left me for two years, and nothing has been the same since.

We’ve never spoken about any of it, but as I stand before him, I can’t keep the words from spilling over my lips.

“You destroyed one daughter already. I won’t let Ciara suffer the same fate as me.”

Dad’s eyes narrow even more, his lips setting in a grim line. “Ciara is my daughter, and I will do as I see fit.”

“Daddy,” Ciara whispers pleadingly from behind me. “Please don’t make me marry that man.”

“Hush, Ciara,” Dad snaps angrily, which has my temper exploding.

Taking a threatening step closer to him, I shout, “Don’t talk to her like that! I’ve had enough of this madness. I will never let Ciara marry Dominik or any other man you bring to this house.” My tone drops dangerously low, and all common senseabandons me as I hiss, “She will not be raped and beaten for years on end just so that you can grow your business.” I tilt my head as I lean forward, our eyes blazing into each other. “Mom would be so disappointed in the monster you’ve become.”

This time, when Dad’s arm flies up, he doesn’t pause, and his palm connects with my bruised cheek. My head whips to the side, and the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth.

“Dad!” Ciara shrieks as she flies to her feet.

When she tries to move between us, I push her back, saying, “I’ve got this.”

My eyes flick to my father’s face, and seeing the shocked expression in his eyes doesn’t do anything to ease my temper.

I lift my chin again, and with a deceptively soft tone, I say, “That’s the first and last time you’ll raise your hand to me. I swear I’ll take Ciara, and you’ll never see us again.”

Dad takes a step back while deep lines form on his forehead as regret creeps into his eyes.

“Let’s calm down and talk about the matter in a civilized manner,” he says, his tone sounding exhausted.

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