Page 122 of Heartless Game

For a moment, triumph and hope bubbled in me, effervescent—and possibly naïve. Had I solved our problems? If I could get mom and I out of here, would we finally be free?

But things were happening too quickly to indulge in that thought, even for a second. Especially when the man near my mother yelled and charged me. Charged with adrenaline and possibly the help of angels, I ducked below his arm and raced over to my mother.

Men filled the torture garage, crowding around Abe and barking orders at each other as they tried to staunch the bleeding. I wanted him dead. But I couldn’t finish the job, not when my mother was still tied to a chair and the easiest next target.

Running to her, my chest burning from fear, I worked on the knots keeping her trapped. The rope had been tied to tight, and there were red marks on her skin. I ignored them, trying to loosen the knots themselves. The rough rope burned my hands, rubbing my palms and fingers raw as I tried to find a slack spot to loosen them.

“Tovah,run,” my mother coughed.

I shook my head, not bothering to reply to such a ridiculous request.

“Tovah,” she insisted. “I didn’t live this life to lose you.Go.”

“No! I’m not leaving you,” I insisted, finally getting one knot undone and starting on the other.

And then there was a big hand squeezing my throat, grinding bones and skin. I couldn’t breathe. I was lifted into the air and dragged backward, my toes dragging on the ground.

I tried to scrabble against the floor, struggling to free myself, but I was no match for the stranger’s strength.

An unfamiliar voice whispered in my ear, “Oh, you shouldn’t have done that, little girl. No one touches the boss. Now we’re going to play.”

He squeezed my throat harder, choking me so hard my vision swam.

The last thing I heard was my mother screaming my name.

And then everything went dark.

51

Isaac

Three and a half hours later, I pulled up to the gates to our family compound. I’d driven like a maniac, and it was by sheer luck that I hadn’t been pulled over. At one point, my father had called me. I’d answered immediately, and the sound of Tovah’s helpless screaming would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Especially when she screamed my name.

Me. I had done this. I had made the mistake of leaving her alone for even a second.

If she didn’t survive, neither would I.

Tick tock, son, my father had said.The sun is beginning to set.

So I shoved my foot down on the gas pedal as hard as I could. Even though it still didn’t feel fast enough.

But I was finally here. The guard waved me in, and I drove through onto the paved brick driveway, parking in front of the house. I hadn’t been home in months, not since the High Holidays. I used hockey as an excuse, but really, I didn’t want to see my asshole father.

But I had no choice.

Leaning over, I grabbed the gun out of the glove compartment and tucked it into my hockey pants. I’d stopped on the way to purchase it from one of my sister’s friends. I’d never owned one. Never wanted to use one. I didn’t care anymore. I’d sell my very soul to the devil if it meant Tovah was safe and free.

Getting out of the car, I shut the door and jogged up to the front door, ringing the doorbell. My father didn’t let us have keys, too paranoid that one of us might lose them and someone could get in. Instead, he kept maids and butlers on rotation 24/7 so there was always someone to answer the door.

Olga, one of the many housekeepers, was the one to open it.

“Oh, Isaac! You’re here.” She twisted her hands in her pristine white apron, fretting over something. “Your father is waiting for you in the dining room. He won’t be pleased about what you’re wearing, but…oh, go in. There are…guests.”

Guests. Plural.

Tovah was safe. For now.

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