Page 19 of Beautiful Scar

For a while, I can almost forget that my monster husband is waiting for me downstairs with his equally dangerous driver.

But the real world intrudes eventually.

I’m folding the last of my sweaters when Dad appears in the door to my suite. He clears his throat, looking extremely awkward. Evan sits on my couch, glaring at him, arms crossed.

“Tigran says you two need to leave soon,” Dad says hesitantly. “Something about traveling while it’s still light out?” He looks at Evan, who just glares back and says nothing. “I know you’re both upset with me?—”

“Upsetis an understatement,” Evan snarls, his hands rolled into white-knuckled fists. “You sold your goddamn daughter.”

“She was the only option,” Dad says, looking at me. I frown back at him, emotions welling up in my gut. “Valentin made it clear that there was no other choice. I didn’t want this.”

I believe him. For twelve years, Dad has indulged me. He’s kept me safe, away from the Bratva, secluded from the men who frequently come to visit him, all because it makes me more comfortable.

The family talks. I know what they say. I’ve heard the house staff mumbling to each other.

Dasha’s crazy. Dasha’s a spinster. Dasha’s a freak.

It hasn’t been easy for him, having a weirdo for a daughter, but he blames himself for what happened to me when I was just thirteen years old.

“I don’t blame you,” I say gently.

Evan stares at me in outrage, and he’s right to feel that way.

I feel that way too.

But I can’t do anything about it, and I’ve learned a dozen different times that it’s better to hang my head and get on with it than to spit and scream and rage.

“Dashenka, my good little girl, I know this is hard, but the Armenians have made assurances. You will be safe and respected. You will be treated very, very well, I can promise you that.”

“Yes, Papa.” I hate myself for saying that. Don’t I want to stab him in the throat right now?

Maybe maim his stinking face the way I got sliced up.

Now, now, Dasha, that’s not how a good girl thinks.

“Would’ve been nice to warn her before selling her off,” Evan says sharply. “You owed her that much.”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” Dad snaps back, glaring at his son. “And you should be careful. You’re not the one getting married.”

“Yeah, just your shut-in daughter.” Evan shoves himself to his feet. He stares hard at Dad for a beat before turning to me, his face softening. “You’ve always got a home here, you know that, right?”

Tears choke me. Is this really happening? Am I seriously going to say goodbye to my brother, to my father, to the only home I’ve known for twelve long years? It feels like I’m cutting off a limb.

“I know that.” I think about the deal Tigran offered, and suddenly it doesn’t seem so crazy. Would he really buy me a house? One with big walls and a security system? I could come back here and see my brother whenever I wanted.

Maybe even my dad too. One day, anyway.

“Good luck.” Evan hugs me tightly. “Text me if that bastard does anything,” he whispers before letting go.

I watch him leave with a terrible sinking feeling in my chest.

“Finish packing,Dashenka,” Dad says, glancing down at his feet. “It really had to be this way.”

I turn my back on him. “I know, Papa.” I say it nice and sweetly. Like the good, obedientDashenkaI’m supposed to be.

While inwardly seething that my life is over, and it’s his fault.

Chapter 6

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