Torn (Dark Legacy Duet 2)

I reach under again, and force myself to take hold of it, to pull it out. I set it on my lap. I’ve only ever seen guns on TV. It’s strange to see it like this, to feel the weight of it on my lap. To know the damage it can do.

I put it back in its hiding place, unnerved by my discovery, and get up. I don’t want to be in here anymore. I walk back out and close the door behind me, and I head back to my room and stay there until nine at night, when hunger and boredom draw me out.

The scent of wood burning comes from the patio and I see the back of Gregory’s head. He’s sitting alone watching the fire crackle as he sips his drink. There’s an empty chair beside his.

I walk quietly into the kitchen and make myself my second sandwich of the day. I plan to take it back up to my room but when I go into the living room, he calls my name.

“Helena.”

He doesn’t turn around, but he must have heard me, as quiet as I was trying to be.

I consider ignoring him and rushing back upstairs, but I can’t spend the next few years of my life in my room. I’ll have to learn how to be with him. And so, I go outside and take the seat beside his. I put my plate on my lap and pick up my sandwich of cheese and lettuce, boring but what I like, and take a crunchy bite. I chew while studying the fire.

Gregory gets up, gets a second glass and pours me a whiskey.

I take another bite.

“Just you and me on the island, Helena,” he says.

I glance over at him, swallow my mouthful.

“Does that scare you?” he asks.

“Should it?”

He shrugs a shoulder, takes a sip from his whiskey and turns back to the fire. “Everyone gets off the island today.”

“Why? What’s today? And why are you here?”

“Well, I’m here because you’re here, and because today is Sebastian’s birthday.”

“His birthday?” I don’t even know what month it is, my time is broken into days, mornings, afternoons, evenings and nights.

Gregory nods, turns to me, looks at my sandwich. “Looks delicious,” he says sarcastically, raising his eyebrows.

“It is.” I take a huge bite and crunch the lettuce and process what it is about this day that’s so important.

It’s the day his mother committed suicide.

I wonder if she chose the day on purpose. I can’t imagine it was to hurt Sebastian. My guess is she was mourning her lost son.

“Why don’t you eat meat?” Gregory asks.

“Had a pet lamb once.”

“Ah.” He smiles, and it’s a genuine one. “Mommy dearest make you eat her?”

My smile vanishes, and I think I might choke on the bite in my mouth.

“Huh. I’m right,” he says.

The fire crackles and a log rolls off the carefully stacked triangle. He reaches for the poker and shoves it back into the flames.

“How did you know?” I ask.

“Just a guess, considering.”

“Considering what?”

“Considering it’s up to the women of the Willow family to give up their own daughters. It’s a matriarchal line.”

He’s right.

“I never thought about it.” I put the rest of my sandwich down and pick up the whiskey. I take a sip. It burns but I like the feeling of it going down. “We both have a mommy dearest I guess.”

He turns to me. “If it’s you, will you do it? Put your daughters on those blocks?”

I study him and I think this is the first time I’m seeing the genuine man behind the arrogant, asshole façade.

“If it were you, would you have done it? Taken one of us?” I counter his question.

He glances away, takes a minute before turning back to me to answer. “I don’t know. Yes. Probably.”

“No. I wouldn’t,” I say without a single doubt.

“Not even if it came down to that or losing everything? Your family would be wiped out.”

“Financially. Wiped out financially.”

“For sure, but think about it. Say it were Ethan. Say he were first born. If your mother refused, do you think Lucinda would stand back and let it be? Not make the payment, take back the Willow house and que sera sera?” He leans in toward me. “Or do you think she’d be more vicious than that?”

I shudder at the thought.

“I won’t do it to my daughters.”

If I even have any.

I shove that thought away.

“I guess we’ll see when the time comes,” he says, leaning back in his chair and shifting his gaze back to the fire.

“Why do you stay here? I mean, here you’re in the shadow of your brothers. You’re young, educated I think?”

He nods, eyes still on the fire.

“You have money. Why don’t you leave. Do something. Anything. Do what you want.”

He turns to me. “How do you know this isn’t what I want?”