Page 69 of Under Southern Stars
I stiffen instantly. There’s not a prayer I’m shaking this off.
A second message pings through:
Sophia: We won't have long. You gonna make it worth my while, McKenzie? Or should I send this to someone else who knows how to use their hands? ;)
I groan aloud. Jesus Christ. She’sreallytrying to kill me.
I fumble to type back with one hand, the other now useless thanks to the steel bar forming behind my zipper:
Jack: You send that to anyone else and I will personally drag them into the bay and drown them with my bare hands.
A moment later, her reply:
Sophia: That's the energy I like to see. Better bring it. I shaved my legs for this.
A horn blares behind me. The light’s green.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat like it burned me, shifting in my seat with a grimace. My jeans are now a prison. I need a cold shower—or Sophia. Preferably both.
I quickly do the math in my head: Sophia gets off at 7. Madison’s with Troy until 9. Two hours. I had planned to head home first, shower, change—I’m still in the clothes I wore to confront Troy. But with traffic, I’ll barely make it to Sophia’s by 7:45. Maybe 8:00.
Fuck that.
Fuck that!
I make a hard right at the next intersection, ignoring a blaring horn, and head directly for Sophia’s house. I’ll damn well wait in her driveway if I have to. After the day I’ve had—after seeing what Troy really thinks about his daughter, after worrying about telling Sophia—I’m not wasting a single minute of our time together.
Six days until New Zealand. Six days until we’re far away from Troy’s toxic bullshit and hateful ideology.
Six days to figure out if I should tell Sophia what I found.
But one thing I know with absolute certainty—I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Madison never sees herself as just a “liability.” Never believes her value comes from “obeying” men.
Even if that means protecting her from her own father’s poisonous worldview.
