Page 22 of The Wicked

“I’ll help,” Trey offered. “Did you get a new set?”

My half-brother might have been an irresponsible prick most of the time, but there was no doubt that he adored Marlie. He gave her piggybacks around the estate, he sat patiently while she served him cakes from her Easy-Bake Oven, and he’d learned to braid hair.

“Grandma Valeria brought me a rescue helicopter. When I’ve built it, can I get a real helicopter?”

“Maybe when you’re older,” I told her.

“Can I fly in your helicopter?”

“Next weekend, okay?”

This weekend, I had a twitching cock, a headache, and a problem with a runaway mystery woman I just couldn’t forget, no matter how much I wanted to.

7

SARA

Sara’s to-do list:

- Pay phone bill.

- Return jewellery to Brooke.

- Check debit card works in Europe.

- Book flight.

- Pack.

Ten a.m. on Sunday, and an uncomfortable mix of caffeine and stress fuelled me as I paced the living room in the pool house. The monster was here. Here in Baldwin’s Shore. My safe space. My sanctuary. I hadn’t slept a wink last night, unsurprisingly.

And now, I was getting ready to leave.

To run.

Marcin kept inviting me to stay with him in Gdansk, so that would be my starting point. I had money saved up, almost fifty thousand dollars from my failed attempt to claim my inheritance. That would sustain me for a year, maybe two if I was careful, and then I could get a job. Start to rebuild my shattered life for the second time, as long ashedidn’t catch up with me again.

If I started another business, I’d make sure I was the sole shareholder, or I could ease myself in gently with some kind of office job. Not customer service, though—I was sick of dealing with difficult people. Perhaps I could be a PA? I was super organised, great at admin, and I knew my way around an accounting program. To-do lists were my favourite thing. Over the years, I’d come up with a system—prioritise five things each morning to give myself a goal for the day.

Five things were always doable.

A list a mile long, that was daunting.

Hey, I could even be a life coach as long as nobody asked for a reference. What was the old saying? Those who can’t, teach.

My phone pinged for the tenth time, and I checked in case it was Marcin. I’d messaged him as soon as I got home, teary and still slightly drunk, and I’d been on edge waiting for a reply ever since. The rest of this morning’s messages had all come from Brooke, asking how I was, and I had no idea what to say to her.Oh, hey, last night when I was trying to escape from the hot fake prince I spent half of the evening dancing with, I ran into the guy who murdered my parents, and now I’m moving to Poland. Thanks for everything, and sayonara.She’d probably call a psychiatrist and have me committed.

Marcin

For sure you can come to stay. I got a last-minute coaching gig in England, but I’ll be back in three weeks. If you want to come earlier, Andriy is there and he will make you welcome.

Marcin wasn’t home? Well, crap. I’d never met Andriy, and although I trusted that Marcin wouldn’t be dating a jerk, the thought of spending weeks with a stranger made my stomach sink even further. I felt so…so…fragile. As if I could break at any moment.

What if I travelled to Eastern Europe anyway and just holed up in a hotel? I could order room service, and I wouldn’t have to leave the building until Marcin returned. I’d be safe. Wouldn’t I? Could the monster track me halfway across the world? I honestly had no idea. The only thing I knew about him was that he was a cold-blooded killer and my parents were two of his victims. I had no idea why they’d been targeted, what they’d done to deserve their fate.

Wait, if I went to see Marcin, would I be putting him in danger? A tear rolled down my cheek as I ran through my options and realised every single one was awful.

Maybe it was time to give up? To accept my fate? I should have died sixteen years ago, and I’d been living on borrowed time ever since.

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