Page 7 of Scarred Sacrifice
I snort. “He didn’t know that. I told him I was sixteen.”
“I know. The poor kid’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when I told him how old you were. I swear, you made me grey,” she complains, running her fingers through her long silver hair. “You know your mom would want you to be happy, to find love, to have kids,” she adds. “If kids were what you wanted.”
“Don’t, Bernie. Look what happened to Mom. She found love twice. The first time, my dear old dad beat the shit out of her, and then she finally trusted someone years later, and he fucking killed her. Leaving her kid to grow up without her,” I snap before getting to my feet. “I love Mom, I do, but her falling in love was fucking selfish. You saw the signs, and you warned her. She ignored them, knowing them from before, and it got her taken away from me.” I turn away, locking down my emotions. I rub my temple. “I don’t want to talk about it, Bernie. Just let me be,” I breathe.
“That’s the problem, my girl. You never talk about it. Your mom may have been a love-struck fool, and it cost her life, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t love you with her whole heart. She didn’t put you second. She didn’t plan on falling in love, and she didn’t plan on falling for him. That doesn’t mean it will end that way for you. Live your life, Morrigan; don’t just survive it.”
I get to my feet, brushing off the dirt from my behind. “I’m not just surviving my life, Bernie. I’m living it to help other people,” I snap before storming off inside.
“Mor!” Bernie shouts after me. I lift my hand and flip her off as I go. I won’t admit it to her, but her words hit something inside me. I push those feelings deep down and head to the bar, opening a bottle of whiskey before I pour myself a double shot. I knock it back, closing my eyes as it burns its way down my throat.
“Er, bad time?” I hear Eden ask. I open my eyes to see her standing there with her tablet in her hand.
I shake my head nope. “No, all good. What is it?” I ask.
She shifts on her feet. “Well, Betsy has been digging, and if you’re sure you’re okay, we will meet Isabella Sparks tonight.
That has me tilting my head with intrigue. “I’m more than okay. Let’s go talk to Betsy,” I state assertively.
CHAPTER THREE
MORRIGAN
Steppinginto Betsy’s room is like stepping into something from a sci-fi movie; there are four computer screens, a keyboard, and machines I don’t even know what they are or dare ask, because like fuck would I understand if she even told me. I say it’s her room. She doesn’t live here. There’s a small pull-out couch on the far side with a blanket and pillow for when she works around the clock.
“Hey,” I say as we walk in. She takes a bite of her burrito and waves her hand for us to sit, not even acknowledging us. I look around at the dark room and see empty packets of fast food and energy drinks littered around her feet. I sniff. The room smells like stale food and feet. “Urgh. You want to open a window?” I suggest, covering my nose as I walk straight over to the window to open it.
I open the blinds, and the room immediately fills with sunlight. I push open the window and take a deep breath in. “How do you live like this?” Eden asks, while mock-gagging, holding up a Chinese takeout box with mouldy food in it.
Betsy looks over her shoulder. “Do I or do I not get the job done?” she quips.
I take a seat on the pull-out couch and smirk. “You do get the work done.” I nod in agreement.
“Exactly.” Betsy nods, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose before continuing to devour her burrito. I smirk. Betsy is incredibly pretty beneath the filth of her room. She has deep, rich brown hair, which is currently piled on her head in a messy bun. She has a light dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Rich hazel eyes, surrounded in metal gold-framed circle glasses. Her skin is milky white, probably from the hours she hides away in here. I don’t think she ever sees much daylight. She’s petite with a curvy figure, which she often hides under baggy hoodies or her favourite band T-shirts. She usually keeps herself to herself, never once making use of the lap dogs. Even after being here for a good few years, she still gets nervous around guys. Not that I blame her.
“You could get the lap dogs to come in here and clean up for you?” Eden suggests.
“No!” Betsy snaps. Her eyes are wide, and I can see anxiety flickering through them. Her cheeks heat. “Er, I mean... No, thanks. It’s okay. I will clean up when I get around to it,” she adds before looking back at one of her computer screens.
I glance a brief look at Eden, who in return gives me a whoops expression. “You’re right, sorry,” Eden says softly, apologising to Betsy.
I clear my throat. “So, come on then, what is the plan with the infamous Isabella Sparks?” I ask them both, diverting the conversation.
“Well, I’ve done all the relevant checks. She is still receiving Daddy’s money every month, and there appears to be no drama on her social media. Nothing. So, I’m not so sure why she’s reaching out,” Betsy says with a shrug.
I lean back on the couch and look to Eden. “And you still think it’s a good idea to meet her. What if this is all her father’s doing? A setup,” I press.
Eden rolls her eyes dramatically. “Come on, Mor. He doesn’t even know we exist. Why would a little woman’s group even be on his radar? I’m telling you, she knows something and is reaching out.”
“Okay, if you say so, then I will trust you on this. But where is the planned meet? Because I don’t entirely trust her. I want it somewhere public,” I state.
Eden types away on her tablet. “Already set up. We are meeting her at this bar tonight at eight pm,” she says, turning her tablet around to show me the bar.
I roll my eyes. “The biker bar in Mufftown?” I sigh.
Eden grins and nods. “Yeah, it’s been a while since we’ve been there. And if Raven is working, then you know she is generous with her shots.” Eden nudges her shoulder into mine.
“I won’t be drinking. I will be riding,” I state.
