Page 67 of Run, Little Rabbit

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Echo

My dad is pissed. I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve brought up the only forbidden subject in the house. Mum.

“I don’t want to talk about her, Echo. Drop the subject,” he says, his words clipped and his tone harsh.

“But I do! You never mention her, and she lingers in the house like a ghost. There are pictures, but they’re all in rooms no one goes in. Anyone would think you’re ashamed of her.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and then strokes his hand down his beard. He’s buying time before he answers. I’ve spent a long time watching Rory Quinn over the years, and I know when he’s about to lie to me.

“I’m not ashamed of your mother, Echo. I just don’t like looking at her.”

That’s a lie. “Why don’t you talk about her?”

His jaw twitches, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Because thinking about her brings me grief.”

Another lie. He’s not sad over her death, and he’s been lying to me all these years; I just didn’t know it. Until yesterday, I never felt the need to question him about my mother's death or his involvement in it. Now I’m worried that my whole life has been a fucking lie.

“Did she really die in a car crash?” I ask, curious as to whether he’ll deny it or not.

He chews his bottom lip for a moment and then takes a deep breath. “No.”

Well, colour me fucking surprised. “What?”

“She was murdered. By a Volkov.”

I sigh internally. Another fucking lie. I know it wasn’t a Volkov, and I know he’s only saying that because they’re an easy patsy, what with the decades-old family feud and all, but I know it’s a lie. I know he paid Lark a million pounds to kill her, and I have the proof.

No wonder he wanted Bennie’s phone. If it comes out that he murdered his wife for sleeping with her bodyguard, there’s no saying what will happen to him. He’ll look weak because he couldn’t keep his wife happy and pathetic because he asked someone else to murder her instead of doing it himself.

Never mind what the twins will think if they find out. Although, knowing them, they've figured it out by now. They’repretty good at discovering secrets. To be honest, I'm actually surprised they're unaware that I'm a vigilante serial killer.

Perhaps I’ll end up telling them just so I can see the look on their faces.

“Why do we hate the Volkov lot, Dad? I mean, what’s the real reason? Because there never seems to be one.”

He hits me with a flat look. “Apart from the fact that they kidnapped you and murdered your mother? I didn’t think I really needed another reason, but if you want one, they made their money dealing in young skin. I think it also goes back to my grandfather’s time when—”

“You think? You mean you don’tknow?” How fucking typical. It’s an old family feud based on nothing more than rumours and hearsay. What a joke.

“Look, it doesn’t matter when it started or why; Quinns and Volkovs don’t mix, and that’s final.” He’s so angry he’s almost frothing at the mouth. I can feel Veon step closer to me as my father starts to lose a grip on his temper. We still haven’t spoken since I threw him out of my room, but he’s still employed by my father and bound to protect me. And we all know how he feels about his fucking duty. Death would be the only thing keeping him away from protecting me. Even then, I’m pretty sure he'd find a way to haunt me from beyond the grave.

“I don’t know what lies Maxim Volkov filled your head with, but you need to stay away from them. You belong here.”

“Do I?” I snap back.

He flinches, as if he doesn’t understand the question. “Of course you do. What a stupid question, Echo.”

“Then why can’t I sit in the family meetings? We all know I’m more level-headed than the twins; I’m trained just like they are. Hell, I fight better than the pair of them put together.”

Dad slams his fist on the table. “But you’re a woman. There’s no place for women at the table.”

“Then change it!” I brace my hands on the table and stand, anger and frustration welling in my soul. “You’re the fucking boss, Dad. Do you think it makes you look weak to have a woman there? Or are you so misogynistic that you’re blind to any idea of equality?”

“When you address me, you’ll talk to me with the respect that I deserve, young lady,” he seethes, the vein in his temple pulsing.

“Respect is earned, Dad. Or have you forgotten that?”

---