Page 43 of Stolen Vows

"I don’t know," I reply vaguely. If I can just keep him talking, maybe he won’t think twice about the fact that we’re alone. He might be selfish, but he’s not stupid, and it can’t be lost on him that we’re out here alone.

"What did those bastards do to you?" he asks me, his voice dropping low. "If I find out they laid a hand on you, I’ll fucking?—"

"Is Mario okay?" I ask, changing my approach.

Saying his name out loud makes my stomach stir in discomfort, but I ignore it. I need to make it seem like I can’t wait to be back home and then straight into his arms, even if the thought of his touch disgusts me. Now that I have been with Max, I can’t even imagine allowing him to lay hands on me, let alone giving myself to him as his wife...

"He’s fine," my father retorts sharply. "No thanks to you."

I part my lips, a part of me intending to protest, but I think better of it. I have to act as I always did, as though I am willing to go along with anything and everything that he says to me, no matter how obviously wrong it is.

He is talking as though I was the one who made the decision to walk away from that marriage, when he knows that’s not true. I never could have been so bold. If it hadn’t been for Max, I would have been wearing that ring on my finger, and there would have been nothing I could do about it.As if I didn’t have enough to thank him for as it was...

"But we managed to find you," he continues, as the woods whip by outside.

We're driving so fast that they are nothing more than a blur of greenery, and I silently send out a prayer that Max is ready for us. Because if my father manages to get me out of here, I will have to return to the life I lived before; but with the knowledge of what I understand now. I don’t think I could live with myself.

I know I couldn’t...

"I’ve been staying in a town nearby, waiting for them to find you," he continues. "Would have come out there myself, but it wouldn’t have been safe. Never know how far those fuckers are willing to take it..."

"What do you know about the people who took me?" I ask him quietly. I am not sure I really want the answer to that question. He snorts.

"The Matronis," he replies, spitting the name as though it’s a curse. "Almost funny they would come after you like this. They’ve always played at being the good ones, the ones with morals, the ones with rules. Guess that falls away just as soon as they get a chance to play with the big dogs..."

Our eyes lock for a moment in the mirror. Suddenly, his brow furrows, and my heart skips a beat. Can he tell what is going on inside my head? See the disgust written on my features? I quickly try to rearrange my expression, trying to recall the way I used to look at him before. I’m not sure I can go back like that, though. I'm not sure I can convince myself to forget it, even for a moment. The weight of it is too heavy, like a plague I’m carrying right down in my cells.

"What did they do to you, Cara?" he murmurs.

And for a moment, I think I can hear an edge of concern in his voice—an edge of real worry, like he is actually wonderingwhat I went through. And for that moment, I can feel something wavering within me dangerously, something threatening to bust through the walls of my resolve and make a mess of everything that I have promised myself. Because...

Because this is what I have known my whole life. This is the only person I have ever been able to trust, the man who has taken care of me in the face of all this chaos. And yes, he might have been willing to push me towards a marriage with a man I barely know, a man twice my age, but he’s still my father. Could he really be so cruel, so evil, so... so awful?

If I believe that Max and his family are lying to me, then I could just go back to everything I knew before. I could direct him out of danger, away from this place, and back to the city where I could pick up on everything right where we left off. And it might not be how I expected my life to go, but at least it’s familiar. At least I know how it works, that side of things, at least I know where I fit into it. The impulse to return to it is almost overwhelming for a second, and it takes everything I have to push it down, not to let my doubts get the better of me.

"I’ll tell you when we get home," I murmur to him, and I watch as the car crests the hill that will lead us straight into the Mastroni trap. I am not going to change my mind now. I have chosen my side in all of this. And I am not going to let anything get in the way of it. It’s not just my future I have to think of, but the futures of so many of the women he has forced to serve him all these years. I have to do it for them, if not for myself. I have to make certain of it...

"Those bastards," he growls. "When I get my hands on them, I’ll?—"

But then, before he can say another word, he sees it—what is waiting for him on the other side of this hill. A blockade has been set up across the road, stopping him from travelling another inch. He slams his foot down on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt just before he crashes into the line of people waiting for us. And at the head of them stands Max, his eyes dark, his mouth set into a hard line as he locks eyes with me. I can tell he’s relieved, though he doesn’t let it show on his face. I guess there was a part of him that wondered if I was really going to go through with this, if I would turn my back on them when they least expected it.

"What the fuck?"

But before he can get the words out, Max strides over to the car and pulls open the door. He offers me a hand, and I don’t hesitate before I take it. He guides me to my feet, and I can feel my father’s gaze burning into me, fury pulsing from every part of him.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demands as Max steps forward. Max reaches for a gun at his side and draws it, pointing it calmly at my father’s head.

"Get out of the car," he tells him.

"I’m not going to?—"

Max cocks the gun, and when he speaks again, his voice leaves no room for argument.

"I said, get out of thefuckingcar."

This time, my father seems to understand that there is no room left for him to argue. His teeth gritted, he climbs out of the vehicle, and I stay pinned to Max’s side. I feel if I step away from him for a moment, everything is going to come apart at theseams. I need him—I need to be near to him, to remind myself why I am doing all of this, even if it feels crazy.

I cast a glance towards the waiting blockade—three cars, a handful of people. Veronica, an older man I have to assume is Max’s father, and a girl who looks to be a few years younger than him. His sister? One of them, at least. All of them are armed, and a few men hang back behind them, clearly ready to jump into action if the situation calls for it.

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