Never Look Back (Redemption Hills 3)

Warily, I picked up my clutch and forced myself to dig out my phone that I’d set to silent before I’d gone in search of Logan.

My nerves rattled so intensely I couldn’t keep my hands from trembling.

Spindly pricks of dread scraped my flesh and panged my chest in a clench of fear.

There was no question my actions were reckless.

Being here was in direct defiance of the promise I had made. A promise that had nearly killed me, but one I had no other choice but to make.

Barely keeping it together, I looked at the screen.

Seventeen missed calls.

Air wheezed from my lungs, and I did my best to steel myself, to find that internal fortitude, tapping into where my spirit shouted for freedom.

It was a conversation that couldn’t be avoided.

One that everything relied upon.

His blessing or his curse.

I guessed that had been the entire story of my life.

Resolved, I turned it off silent. Immediately, it began ringing again, as if it’d never stopped.

I accepted the call.

“Hi, Papa,” I whispered as I put the phone to my ear, knowing I’d likely incited a shitstorm with my text earlier this morning.

“Aster…where are you?” Fear burned through his hardened voice. “I’ve tried to call you a hundred times.”

“I’m safe.”

Silence pulsed for a short beat before I heard him swallow. “Tell me what is going on? I tried to call Jarek this morning to no avail, and now my daughter is missing.”

“I’m not missing, Papa. I am right here.”

“And where exactly is that?” His voice deepened with the question.

I paced, my heels snagging on the high pile of the thick carpet. My head dipped low as if my father could feel the weight of my plea. My heart clanged in fits of desperation when I let go of the words. “Papa, I need you to listen to me.”

More silence.

This time baited. Harsher than it’d been.

“Who do I need to kill?” he finally offered.

I would have laughed if it hadn’t been a horrible, terrible reality.

A reality that had destroyed the last seven years.

Could it be changed? Could it? I prayed and prayed that my father could be swayed.

“No one, Papa. No one, please.” I hated it. Hated this ruthless world. Hated that I still loved my father despite his barbarous ways.

“I need you to spare someone.” That, I begged, my pulse chugging as I croaked the anguished request. A request that would likely send him over the edge.

“Who?”