Page 127 of Wolf

My skin crawls at the contact, but I muster a smile hoping she gets my message. It’ll be okay.

Please let her be okay.

Although she’s clearly scared, I don’t find any visible marks leading me to believe she’s hurt. For now…

“Now sit,” Hand growls and I back away, mentally wincing when Hand shuts the door.

If I live through this, I vow that my little sister will never see the inside of a closet again.

Daddy’s still looking at the floor when I sit down gingerly on the chair. If the plans didn’t change, Wolf is two hours North, looking for this jerk.

Even if he looked at his phone now, it could be hours before he shows up here. I don’t have that to spare.

The clock is ticking and assuming Miriam keeps her word, I have little time left to get Mercy out that door.

“Please,” I say, licking my dry lips. “Please let Mercy go. I’ll do whatever you want. Please.”

Hand tips his head, his dark blue eyes contemplative before he says, “Even if I want to fuck you in front of your daddy?”

My pulse skips a beat as I stare at him blankly. I really didn’t consider that when I made this deal but if it comes down to it, I’ll do anything to save Mercy, Miriam, and her baby.

Bile swishes around in my stomach as his mouth curls in a smirk. I feel no victory though when his eyes widen as I whisper, “Yes.”

The minutes seem to tick away before he grunts, “I don’t want your pussy. But maybe we can make a deal, you and me. You shoot your daddy, and I’ll let Mercy Lou Lou go.”

His use of her nickname disturbs me, but I’ve got bigger issues because if he’s being serious, I don’t think I can say no.

I hate my daddy for every whip of the belt. For driving Rachel to run. For allowing our mother to slowly kill the spirit that surely god gifted to us when we were born.

I hate the man, but I don’t hate enough to commit murder. Could I even come back from that?

“Why?” I blurt.

Daddy has been achingly still since I sat down before him, and I glance at him sideways but he’s still staring at the floor.

A bead of sweat drips down his temple, and I eye his fingers clenched around the chair, the only display of emotion I see.

“Why?” Hand says and then waves the gun around. “Why not?”

Well, I suppose that’s as good an answer as any from this psycho.

Still, I don’t understand why he’s here. What happened to the sheriff?

Licking my lips, I whisper, “What about the sheriff?”

His eyes narrow and he cocks his head before he grunts, “That pansy ass fucker don’t know shit. I ain’t going down for him. He wants Castro so bad, well, he can thank me later when the fucker is dead.”

Castro? So, this is about Wolf. Why?

While I contemplate his words, he waves his gun and says, “Well?”

I look at the closet door. Mercy. She’s so innocent, so kind. So vibrant. How much of what’s already happened has changed her?

I can take away her pain right now.

Pushing from the chair, I stand tall and say, “Okay.”

Once again, I think I’ve surprised the jerk but what he doesn’t understand is that a sister’s love is feral. It’s formed out of shared love and loss. It grows with every beat of our hearts.

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