Page 21 of Merciless Vows

“I’m aware.”

Without another word, I shut the door and take a step back from it as if it’s something deadly. No.It’snot deadly, but the man outside it is.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit!

The sound of Daddy coming down from the attic startles me into action.

I fly up the stairs and meet him in the hallway. “They’re here.”

“Who’s here?”

“Luca’s men. We’re fucked, Daddy. We are so fucked.” I thrust my hand into my hair and pull.

The bags he’s carrying drop to the floor, and he stumbles into the wall. He wipes sweat from his brow. “Your sister has doomed us.”

Turning to him in disbelief, I come closer to him and point a finger into his face. “Don’t you dare put this blame on her. It was you.Youdoomed us.”

My sister will think of something.

Shaking my head, I try my damnedest to come up with a solution. A way out of this mess that doesn’t involve dying. But nothing comes to mind, because there was only one way. I peer into Alma’s room. The only way was for her to show up in the wedding dress that’s still on her bed.

Then my gaze flicks to the standing mirror, and for a moment, I’m startled because it looks like my sister is reflected in it. But I quickly realize it’s me I see. In the dimness of the hallway, my hair seems much darker than it is. That’s when it hits me.

“I know what to do.” I race through my dad’s suite to his bathroom.

He’s close on my heels when I crouch and throw open the cabinet doors under his sink.

“What are you doing?” he demands as I shove bottles out of the way, searching.

“I need hair dye.”

“What?”

“Dye. I need to dye my hair.” I dig deep, but all I find are shampoo bottles and cleaning supplies. Sitting back, I face my dad. “Where do you keep it?”

“I don’t have hair dye,” he scoffs.

“Daddy, you’re sixty-five years old and don’t have a single gray hair. You can’t expect me to believe that’s natural. Now cough it up!”

His lips pull into a thin, hard line. But he swallows his pride and goes to one of his drawers. From its very depths, he produces a box of dark-brown men’s hair dye and hands it to me.

It’s not an exact match to Alma’s soft brown, but beggars can’t be choosers. Besides, I doubt Luca will be able to tell the difference between the shades.

I tug a lock of my long hair and grimace. It took me forever to grow it out. But dying it back to a darker color won’t be enough to convince that criminal I’m Alma.

With a heavy heart, I grab a pair of scissors from Daddy’s bathroom counter and give them to him. “I hope you have a steady hand.”

“You want me to cut your hair?”

“It’s the only way, Daddy,” I whisper. “It’s the only way for Alma to still marry Luca and save your ass.”

6

CARINA

Something borrowed, something red. If he finds out who you really are, consider yourself dead.

I stare at the crimson roses my father sent to my room this morning after he was escorted to the church. No, not my room. Alma’s.

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