Page 71 of Savage Daddies

Ifthey’ve ever even had it.

Sammy rests her head on the pillow, red hair fanning around her like a mane. It’s the same bright auburn color as Zoe’s, and her button nose matches her mom’s too.

The stark blue color of her eyes is peculiar, though.

It’s notimpossibleto birth an infant into the world with a different eye color.

But it’s rare.

Felix’s are brown, and Zoe’s shine like two raw cut bits of emerald, so for Sammy to have blue eyes…it’s strange. Especially when I’m looking into a pair of eyes colored the exact same husky-blue color as hers.

Poet stares right back at me. “What?”

“I think you know,” I whisper.

“She’sthree.I know you majored in literature, but come on, switch on the math side of your brain for a second. The masquerade was a little less than four years ago.”

This makes Poet’s jaw drop.

He looks like a fish.

“Open your mouth any wider and you’ll be catching spiders,” jokes Zoe. She walks her way back over to us and continues down the corridor, Poet following stiffly behind.

“Come in,” she says, standing outside her bedroom door. When we don’t move, she chuckles. “Funny. It didn’t stop you before.”

The door widens and we all funnel inside.

Bad decision, her welcoming us into her room. It was easy before without her in it, but her presence brings tension. A lot. We’re home alone with the woman all of us lose self-control around.

“Nice bedsheets.” I point at the Eiffel Tower print.

She smiles. Collapses onto the mattress like the biggest tease ever—even though she’s not trying to seduce us. “Thanks. I’ve always wanted to go to Paris.”

Something in Poet’s jaw feathers.

“Guys…” She grits her teeth. “I’m having second thoughts about this idea. Don’t get it twisted, you’re more than capable of pulling this off, but you don’t understand. Felix’s eyes areeverywhere.I’m serious. That man isthespider from Game of Thrones.”

Probably a eunuch too.

“But at least he won’t hurt Sammy, even though…”

Bullwhip frowns. “Even though what, princess?”

She shakes it off. “Ignore me. Events from today have scrambled my brain. It’s just, Fiona means too much to me. I can’t lose her.” She leans into the bedframe and brings her knees to her chest. “I’m being selfish. Yes, escaping is possible and I don’t doubt you for one second, but the stakes are too high with Fiona’s life involved. Life is what you make of it, and sometimes you gotta see the positives. Things could always be worse.”

Words of advice from the fantastic parental figure himself.

Standing ovation for Warren Warrington for inspiring his two daughters to, by the sounds of things, settle and accept what life gives you.

Zoe slips her legs under the Eiffel Tower bedsheets and slouches into the two pillows propped up behind her. Does she ever relax like this around Felix?

“Fiona is only nineteen. She lives with Father still. Employers won’t hire her because of her bad mental health records. Once, she tried to kill herself. His house is open, the kitchen connected to the living room. Father wasliterallysitting on the couch, back turned watching C-SPAN or some political shit, when Fiona slipped a bread knife from the drawer. She pointed it toward her stomach. Herstomach,guys. I was upstairs and got this sudden thirst for some water. It must’ve been the universe’s way of sending me down to save her or something, because I land in the kitchen and see the blade inches from her stomach. I leap forward, snatch the knife from her grasp and cut my palm in the process.”

She sticks up her right hand. A long, faded cut scores straight down the center. “Had to take myself to the emergency room after because I lost a lot of blood. Not like Father noticed. All he did was turn around. I always used to convince myself that he simply didn’t know she was depressed, but oh, he knew. He just didn’t want the emotional burden distracting him.”

“Shit, Zoe,” says Bullwhip.

“Look, it’s simply too dangerous. Fiona has always been unstable, and I’ve always been there to protect her. I lost my mom. I can’t lose my sister too.”

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