The thought of what he’d done to Archie rushed through my brain.
“Hello, Anya.”
“What happened to them?” I asked weakly.
My father stepped in, his suede shoes crunching on the unswept ground as he faced the resting places of his lost children.
“Dad?” I coaxed.
“We were trying to protect you from this.”
“From what?”
“It’s complicated.” He gave an unnerving smile, meant to comfort, I suppose.
“They have our names?” Emotion made my words heavy.
“We wanted to recreate the family we’d lost.”
I observed him.
Reminded of the spirited punishments he’d delivered in the past, I put some distance between us.
He noticed me stepping back and gave a careful nod.
“Your mother and I love you dearly, Anya. You know that. We’ve wrapped you in cotton and done our best to keep you safe. It hasn’t been easy on you.” His eyes darkened. “Or us.”
“How did they die?” My question echoed in the lonely chamber.
“Don’t worry about that now.” He shook his head thoughtfully.
I studied my namesake’s tomb, and a shudder swirled up my spine. I tried to shake the thought that one day I might lie within one of these.
“Did something bad happen to them?” I needed him to say it.
“How did you find out about them?” He eyed me. “From Archie?”
My thoughts flashed to what Dad had already done to him. Dread welled, and my belly ached.
“Found the receipt for the plot in your drawer.” I fixed my stare on him to convey Archie had nothing to do with this. “Bet when you were my age, you had a similar curiosity, Daddy.” I threw in.
“My office? You’re not allowed in there. But you already know that, don’t you?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He closed the gap between us.
His closeness sent a chill up my spine, but I walked with him toward the door, feigning compliance.
He threw an arm around my shoulders to guide me back the way I had come. What a rarity this was, him showing any kind of patience. But I knew the truth. It was a lie.
He was waiting until we got home.
There was something more going on here, and as we left the cemetery, it hit me.
He wanted me to find that tomb. Or that’s how it felt.
His Mercedes was parked outside Lafayette Cemetery. He drove us back to Fifth Street in silence—the distance short. My fingernails dug into my palms all the way there.
I tried to cope with the consequences of what I’d done.
Once home, dad guided me toward his office. That look in his eyes told me to prepare for his impending violence.
As we were about to enter his office, a loud bang echoed from outside the front door.
Then a blood-curdling scream carried from somewhere in the house.
“He’s here!”
Dad grabbed my hand and pulled me along. “Hurry.” He dragged me behind him.
The sound of spraying bullets ricocheted, and I ducked as though it would help. A scream built in my throat, and I was too terror-stricken to release my grip on Dad’s hand.
We made it to the foot of the stairs.
“Up!” Following his direction and not letting go, I ascended two at a time. My shoulder was yanked painfully as he pulled me up behind him, and I regretted my earlier adventure as though I alone had brought mayhem with my rebellion.
Mom dashed out of their bedroom and gestured for us to follow her inside.
“No,” said Dad.
“I can’t.” She sounded terrified. “Not like this.”
“We agreed.”
“Please, Stephen—”
“Not now!” Spittle escaped his mouth as he yelled it.
“I won’t!” she bit out.
“We talked about this, remember?” His voice was calm, it almost sounded rational.
She cowered against his anger, stepping back into the room.
Dad turned to me. “Get your brother and meet us here,” he snapped.
He was right—I’d be faster.
Already taking flight, I sprinted along the hallway toward Archie’s room. When I made it through his door, I couldn’t see him. Just his unmade bed. I flung myself toward his bathroom and found it empty.
Turning sharply, I headed back to my parents’ bedroom and stopped abruptly inside.
Where the hell had they gone?
Bolting out to look for them along the hallway, I glanced through the banisters. My stomach clenched when I saw the men ascending the stairs. All of them wearing combat gear.
Jesus Christ, they were wielding military-grade weapons. A dark stranger shouted an order from behind them. In seconds, they’d be on the balcony, and they’d see me.
Pivoting, I bolted toward my bedroom. Glancing one last time through the banister at the tall man in a black suit—
His sinister dark brown eyes found me.
I leaped back, but it was too late.
He’d stripped me bare with the intensity of his scrutiny. The kind of look that tore through a soul with unforgiving darkness.
He took the stairs two at a time to reach me.
I crashed into my bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me. Then I turned the lock.