Page 24 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

Sister?I stare back at Micki, sure I’ve heard her wrong, but she doesn’t laugh and slap my arm. She doesn’t take it back. She keeps looking at me. Expectantly.

Holy shit. This is real. She’s serious.My father and her mother—they had a kid. And neither of us ever knew.

“How did you find out?” I demand.

“A series of emails,” she answers quickly. “Jason had connections in the medical industry—specifically in other countries. She wasn’t even in America when she died.”

“You saw her body, though, didn’t you?” I ask. “We went to her funeral.” I remember the day. The emotions. Fuck, it was the last time I ever saw her; of course I fucking remember.

Micki shakes her head. “No, it was a closed casket,” she says. “I don’t even know if we buried a body when we held the funeral.”

Funny—I don’t remember that. The day itself has been burned into my mind ever since as the worst fucking day in my life. What I remember is her. Her tears. Her pain. And then nothing as she left, walked away, got into that damn car with Ken Carpenter—I should have slaughtered him before, weeks ago when we’d had him here. I was owed far more, but that much I could’ve done for her. I know, without asking, that he had taken her to him—to my father.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Micki continues. “What matters is her—our sister. I don’t know where she is, but I found documentation and reports that Jason was keeping tabs on my mother for Thomas. She died in a hospital in Mexico and I found the birth certificate. Your father signed it. He wouldn’t have if he weren’t sure she was his.”

A little girl is out there. One that looks like her, like me. I stare at Micki, trying to picture her, but it’s hard. All I can see is a miniature version of Micki herself. She’s right. We can’t leave her on her own. I look to Rylie.

“Can you do anything?”

“I need to see what she has,” Rylie replies immediately. “All documentation. The birth certificate. Everything. Even if you don’t think it relates.”

“Wait a second.” Abel sits up behind Rylie and glares over her shoulder at me. “Your father is still missing and he’s probably still pissed after what happened with the Undead. There’s no fucking way I’m putting Rylie in any sort of danger.”

A growl slides up my throat and I tense. “I’m not fucking asking you,” I snap.

“The fuck you’re not, shithead,” Abel hisses. “I get your need, but Rylie’s my fucking priority and you aren’t—”

“Stop,” Dean holds up a hand, halting any further comment.

I switch to him. “You owe me,” I remind him. “You owe me a fuck of a lot, don’t forget—”

“I haven’t forgotten shit.” Dean cuts me a dark look. “But we need to calm down and take stock. Rylie can do some searching—”

Abel snarls. “Dean.”

“She’ll be safe,” Dean assures him. “We’ve got security tight after everything that’s happened and the Undead is under Brax’s and Ace’s care right now. We’re covered across our bases.” With that, he turns back to me. “We’ll use everything at our disposal to help you. Not just for you, but for her too.” He nods to Micki. “She’s Ava’s friend.”

“Thank you,” she says. “But I just need to be able to find the girl. I can handle Thomas on my own.”

Dean arches a brow her way and I slowly turn my head. Micki’s face is calm, almost impassive. She looks untouched, unbothered by the conversation now that she knows I won’t leave her hanging. I see the resistance in her—the way she fights to keep her emotions at bay. There’s anger in the way she curls her fingers into her palm, but no flush to her cheeks like there used to be.

Time has changed a lot. For her and for me. I don’t know her entirely anymore. Not like I used to. But I want to.

I never stopped searching. Never stopped hoping that one day she’d come back.

Well, now that fucking day is here and it feels more like fucking D-day than a God damned miracle. I can never catch a break.

“You’re not handling my father on your own,” I tell her.

She doesn’t respond.

“Micki.”

Still nothing. I grab her arm. “Don’t fucking ignore me.”

Her head turns and I’m taken aback by the sheer amount of volatile emotion in her eyes. Churning darkened honey is alight with hatred so intense that it’s not even comparable to the very hatred I’ve seen in my own eyes. We’re not alone, so I can’t do what I want. We’re not alone, so I know she won’t admit it. Even if she cares for Ava—the rest of this group are strangers to her. People she will rely on to get what she needs, but not people she’ll open up to. Not people she’ll show her weakness to.

He hurt her. No, I’m sure it’s more than that. Hurt is such a fucking pathetic word for what my father has done to her. She can’t be broken, though. Maybe she thinks she is, but she’s still here. She came back and she has enough fight left in her to care. To want to find the girl—a piece of both of us. I’d feel so incredibly sorry for the child, knowing she has my father’s blood running through her veins, but if she’s part of Micki, too, then… maybe she’ll be saved.

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