Page 93 of Tyrant (The Villetti Chronicles)

“I don’t get paid to talk. I get paid to keep him safe, and by extension, you.”

“Me?”

“The moment he took you in, you became his. He claimed you. I would give my life for his. And now I would give my life for yours too. That’s what he expects of me.” He waved at the house. “You’ll be safe here… for now, but don’t think he’s not watching over you. He will always watch over you, Ari. That’s who he is.”

I didn’t know what to say other than it meant a lot that he’d reassured me about Zayn’s feelings towards me.

“Thank you.”

He patted my arm. I felt his fingers press against my coat as he slid his hand down the fabric before he stepped back.

“Go see your father.”

He handed me my handbag. The one Zayn had taken from the crime scene when I killed my uncle. I took it and opened it, finding my house key inside, along with my phone and purse. Arlo moved away, stepping back out onto the road to get in the car again.

I walked up to the front door, clutching the key between my fingers. Who knew if my father was even home right now. All I knew was I had to do this. Had to make sure I wasn’t going to throw the fuck up.

Unlocking the door, I stepped inside and looked back. Arlo was in the car. He gave me a nod and pulled away as I shut the door.

“Dad? You home?”

There was a noise behind me. I turned around and came face to face with the man who raised me. He stood in the doorway of the living room, his dark eyes wide. It felt strange seeing him after all this time. To witness what my disappearance had done to him. There were dark circles under his eyes, which were glassy. His brown skin had an almost sallow appearance to it as if he’d been sick with worry for me. And it wasn’t just about me. His brother had disappeared too.

“Arianna.”

I ran, and he caught me up in his arms, holding me tight against his chest. He didn’t ask me where I’d been or questioned why I was home now.

“You’re here.”

“I’m here, Dad, I’m home.”

But it’s not where I want to be. I want to be with my…I couldn’t bring myself to think it in the presence of my father. I’d called this man daddy when I was a child. Now I called another man that for an entirely different reason. He took care of me, made me feel special, wanted and needed. I was safe. And fuck did it hurt knowing I had to be away from him. The man I wanted for the rest of my life.

Dad pulled back, holding me at arm’s length as his eyes roamed over me, taking in the expensive clothing Zayn had bought me.

“You’re okay? No one hurt you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Okay. Okay… Ari, where the fuck you been?”

I sighed, looking away. Nothing about this would be simple. Telling my dad about Justin and Zayn was going to bring down a world of trouble on my head, but I’d run away once. I couldn’t do it again.

“It’s a long story.”

Dad nodded before directing me into the living room. I sat down on the sofa in the familiar surroundings. The faded blue wallpaper and dark brown leather sofas Dad had got when I was five. Being here made me feel out of place. I didn’t belong in this life any longer.

“Tea?”

“Please.”

Dad left to make it, giving me time to collect myself. To work out how the hell I was going to explain everything. It didn’t seem real, me being back here.

He came back far too soon, handing me a cup of tea and taking a seat on the sofa on the other wall. I curled my fingers around the mug, staring down at the beige liquid.

“I ran away, Dad. I ran away because I did something I couldn’t take back.”

He didn’t respond. I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t look at him. Not when I had to tell him I’d murdered his brother.

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