Page 24 of Sinister Engagement

I didn’t know where I was going—maybe to grab a drink from the kitchen, that always helped me when I was a child. It calmed my thoughts, gave me a direction and a purpose until I could distract myself long enough to stop thinking.

I was halfway to the staircase when a quiet crash and thud drew my attention. I straightened and turned back, pausing when—at the very end, I saw the doors to my father’s office cracked open and shadows moving on the other side.

For several long seconds, I hesitated—wondering if I shouldn’t go back to the room—but a low voice, a familiar voice sounded on the other side of the wooden doors.

“Jackie?” I whispered, but the second my sister's name escaped my lips, I knew it was too quiet. It was barely audible to even my own ears.

I turned and strode forward, my feet silent on the hallway carpet. My hand went to the cracked door and I pushed, but the moment the door creaked open to reveal what was on the other side—my insides dropped out from beneath me and horror shot over my whole body.

All of the glow from earlier dispersed, and I turned cold.No.

That was all I could think.Please, God … no.

13

Angel

My father lay on the floor, unmoving, his familiar gaze staring lifelessly up at the ceiling of his office. There was nothing else registering in my mind. Everything in me screamed to do something,anything, but I was frozen in place. It wasn’t until I saw a deep red pool growing around his body that I finally rushed forward.

“Dad!” I cried, falling to my knees beside him. Warm, sticky blood coated my skin as I pressed my hands to his chest, trying to stop the bleeding from his chest. “Please…please!” I refused to believe what I knew was true.

My father was dead.

“Ah, if it isn’t little miss perfect, rushing in to save the day,” my sister sneered, startling me. In my shock, I’d forgotten she was in the room. When I looked at her, instead of finding her freaking out about our father bleeding out on the floor, she stood there nonchalantly. Leaning against one of the chairs, eyeing her fingernails with disdain. In her other hand, a serrated knife. Its steel blade coated in blood, the red liquid dripping off the tip and to the carpet. Each inaudible splash almost moving in slow motion to my still sluggish mind.

I was on high alert, and yet despite the rapid rhythm of my heart in my ears, my movements seemed slow, as if I was wading through molasses as I tried to piece together everything. Completely numb as I glanced around. My sister didn’t bother to look at me, her focus completely on her perfectly manicured nails.

No emotion. No remorse.Nothing.

“What…”

“Oh, don’t play stupid with me,” she cut me off with a harsh tone, finally showing some emotion. The same hatred I’d see briefly before the wedding filled her expression, and she angled the weapon toward me. “You know very well you were always Father dearest’s favorite.”

“No, I’m not,” I tried to argue, shocked at her train of thought.How could she think that?“He loved us both.”

“No, darling sister. Youwerehis favorite. I was an obligation,” she countered, emphasizing the past tense portion of her statement. The reminder made the blood coating my hands and now my legs where I knelt next to my father feel ice cold and heavy. Swallowing the lump that was forming in my throat, I looked down at his prone figure.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head slightly. “This…You couldn’t…” I couldn’t wrap my head around it, almost like my brain refused to believe she was capable of this. She’d always been mean spirited to me, our relationship never truly being close or even good, butshewas the perfect daughter—not me. Jackie was exactly like our father, her entire focus on the family and ensuring its business thrived. Just like my father wanted. “Why?” was all I could say, my single word thick with emotion as I held back a sob.

Instead of answering right away, all she did was start to laugh, the sound manic and terrifying and I knew it would haunt me long after this horrific night was over. “Why?” she sneered, swinging the knife around as she started to pace. “Because you’re just the sheltered little girl, the one with absolutelynofucking idea what the hell this family even needs and yet, he hands the family off to you and yourhusband. Neither of whom have done anything to deserve it. I’ve given my entirelifeto this family. I’ve done horrible things for the Price name. What have you done? Bitched and moaned about wanting to run away to some fairytale happy ending like the spoiled princess you are.”

Each word was accompanied with a jab of the weapon as she stepped forward. With the crazed look in her eyes, I wasn’t sure if she planned on using it against me, so I didn’t move, didn’t speak so I didn’t anger her further. Her pacing finally slowed and her eyes flickered down to our father with disdain before focusing on me.

“Though I have to admit, this really is just too perfect.Waybetter than I even planned,” she changed topics, her angry ranting melting into a sickly-sweet tone. Jackie’s signature smirk appeared, my adrenaline pumping harder at the cunning glint in her deep brown gaze. I had no idea how to fight, which looking back was clearly a mistake, the realization only lending credence to her hate-filled words.

“Better how?” I bit out through clenched teeth. The cold numbness that had taken hold, transformed into sickening anger. Tears pricked my eyes at the feeling, but I didn’t swipe at the wet tracks as they started to fall, not wanting to smear my own father’s blood all over my cheek. The thought made the red hot poker in my chest intensify.

Jackie strutted forward, and I tried to shuffle backwards but had nowhere to go with where I was crouched on the office floor. Kneeling, she chuckled slightly and before I could move, she grabbed hold of my hand forcefully. Her nails dug into my skin, holding it open and still as she shoved the handle of the knife into my waiting palm. No matter how hard I tried to yank my hand back, her grip never loosened, her now free hand forcing my fingers closed over the warm handle.

“Father’s precious angel, covered in his blood,” she murmured. “And now holding the murder weapon.” I attempted to shove her back, but she only moved a mere centimeter. “What are you going to do,Angel?Stab me? Just like you did our poor father?” she taunted. “You don’t have the guts to kill. Hell, I don’t think you even have it in you to maim. Pathetic really.”

I knew she was right, but I clumsily swiped the blade in the air as soon as she let go of my hand, but she was faster. Jumping up swiftly, she missed getting sliced by the serrated edge but only just.

“Hm, maybe little Evangeline does have it in her,” she mocked. “Too little, too late though.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” I snapped, shoving off the floor so I could face her fully. The weight of the knife in my hand felt odd, but in that moment, slightly comforting.

“The family business? It belongs tome, not some hitman and certainly not my insipid, weak little sister,” she spat.

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