Page 116 of Summoned
The only thing you need to know is that you’re safe.
I bite my lip, trying to repress the flood of thoughts crashing through me. I think back to the first time I sensed his scent, the way his invisible presence always wrapped me in that sweet, peppery aroma. What happened in the labyrinth… Was it reallyan anomaly in the magic, like he claimed? Or because we’re soulmates?
The doorbell interrupts my musings. I hear Daria’s footsteps in the hallway and the creak of the door. Faint voices reach me as she talks with someone. I frown and strain to listen…
No, it can’t be!I spring up from the couch and rush tothe front door. My father stands there in his usual dark suit, crisp and immaculate, with his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze moves over Daria before settling on me.
“I knew it,” he says.
My legs shake, but I stay put. “How did you find me?”
His eyes are cold, and his mouth curls. “I checked your car’s GPS. Of all the places you’ve been over the past few days, this one struck me as the most unusual. It didn’t take much to discover that your childhood friend used to live here.”
Daria’s gaze shifts between us. “Hello, Mr. Vrachev. I assure you, Nicole is safe here.”
His attention remains on me. “Come outside.”
My body stiffens at the sound of that familiar, authoritative voice. I draw in a breath, trying to suppress the trembling in my fingers. “I won’t…”
He raises an eyebrow, his hands shifting behind his back as if to shake off the tension. “Let’s not cause a scene.”
The tone alone is enough to make me shrink inside. No matter how much I rebel against him, he always dominates me with nothing but his presence. I remember Gaetano’s words:Next time, you’ll be more confident.At this moment, I feel no confidence at all.
My father’s gaze darkens, and his lips tighten into a thin line. He crosses the threshold, and every fiber of my being tenses up. For some reason, Daria moves aside, as if forgetting it’sherapartment. “Mr. Vrachev, please…”
“This is between me and my daughter. Stay out of it unless you wish for trouble.” He steps closer and grips my wrist with an iron hold. The unwelcome contact reminds me of Gaetano’s appearance last night. How he emerged out of nowhere and grabbed me. As my father’s grip tightens, my skin burns. Gaetano’s touch never caused me pain.
“You and I will deal with this at home. Enough drama in front of strangers!” Dad hisses.
“Let me go!”
“You clearly haven’t been yourself lately!”
My muscles tense up, and it’s as if my whole body refuses to move, even though every instinct urges me to fight back. It’s happening again.
Daria steps forward, her voice firm. “Mr. Vrachev, you can’t just come in and take her. That’s abuse!”
He faces her, still holding onto my arm. “This isconcern. My daughter has problems. Strange behavior, unexplained outbursts, the kind of men she meets in the dark. Hiding her here isn’t helping. She needs real help.Medicalhelp.”
His voice is so rational that anyone listening from the outside might think he’s right. A fire ignites within me. A deep, bitter sense of injustice spreads through my entire body. I kept my sanity after the Black Joker! I navigated a labyrinth of illusions and fear. And now my father is trying to paint me as a lunatic.Damaged.
“I amnotgoing with you!”
“Let her go!” Daria screams.
My father swivels his head toward her.“This doesn’t concern you.”
“Yes, it does.” Daria plants herself in the middle of the hallway, blocking his path. He shoves her aside with his shoulder. She stumbles and hits the wall. Her eyes widen in pain and shock.
Pure, blinding rage explodes inside me. For years, I’ve been shrinking myself to fit into this man’s mold, but Daria is not me. She’s a good, kind person who’s only ever shown compassion to everyone.
My focus shifts to the open bedroom door, to my duffel bag behind it. Bracing my heels against the floor, I yank myarm free. I lunge into the room, crouching before my bag, fingers finding the dagger. It’s warm and fits in my palm with unsettling perfection. A silent force surges up my arm, envelops my entire being, and settles deep in my soul.
I face my father. When I stabbed Gaetano, my hand trembled. Now, I hold the knife with a calm that should terrify me. Instead, the ground is solid beneath my feet. It fills me with cold resolve. And a dark hunger for blood.
Is this how it feels for Gaetano when it’s time to harvest? Acting the part of someone who has nothing left to lose but himself?
Like it or not, you’re a predator, he told me last night. Right now, I’m inclined to believe him.
