Page 54 of It Shouldn't Be You
“No. Owen says she’s been struggling to open up, but he’s confident she’ll get there eventually. Apparently, Jonathan has a few things in motion to help her feel safe enough to talk.”
“You know she might hold the answers to all our questions,” he points out, returning his gaze to the room. Seeing Abigail look so carefree and at peace is something I was terrified she’d never find again. But she has, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
“I know, but we can’t force her to talk before she’s ready. Jonathan would have our heads,” I reply. He’s been fiercely protective of Helen since she reappeared, and I can’t blame him. I’d be the same in his shoes.
Still, the fact that she holds critical information eats at me. While we found her, we still have no leads on what happened to my mum or who killed that man in Belfast. We’re no closer to shutting down the human trafficking operation Angus and Peter were tangled in or uncovering the insider feeding them information.
But until Helen feels ready to speak, all I can do is focus on rebuilding the Clan and falling deeper in love with Abigail. God knows this mess won’t resolve anytime soon, so we may as well savour the small joys in the meantime.
What's Next?
It Will Always Be You is next and it's finally time to get some answers from Jonathan and Helen about just what the hell is going on.
Prepare to hurt before getting that much anticipated HEA and feel free to stalk me for hints and teasers about what’s to come.
A Peak Into It Will Always Be You
Coming Summer 2025
Prologue
Helen
I’m going to die tonight.
That’s the thought that’s been echoing in my mind as I go through the motions of getting ready. A coat of mascara and dusting of blush mixed in with a pinch of trepidation. After tonight there’s no going back. The time for hesitation is long over.
One last charade before I escape this prison disguised as a home and the death sentence hanging around my neck. Because make no mistake; letting Angus Graham make me wife number five is nothing short of that.
It shouldn’t sting and it sure as hell shouldn’t cut me so deep, after all somewhere between being handed off to nanny’s and then tasked with raising my younger siblings, I came to the bitter understanding that my parents are far from the loving kind. Raised voices and things breaking were a far more common occurrence than loving comments and family meals.
Still, this is a new low even for them that has me questioning everything.
If they can sell of their daughter, what won’t they do to achieve their sick, twisted goals?
Are there any lines they won’t cross?
I’m not about to stick around to find out, that’s for sure.
“Helen, hurry up. Angus is waiting.” Mother tuts from my open doorway, clear disapproval and distaste clouding her features. Features so similar to mine it makes me wonder how she can stomach doing this to me.
“Coming, Mother.” I tell her, taking one last look in the mirror as I steel myself for what lies ahead. The girl looking at me looks far from excited and I can’t say I blame her. Forcing a fake smile onto my face, I fiddle with the scrap of red fabric Mother passed off as a dress. The plunging neckline nearly has my bellybutton on show not to mention the hemline’s short enough to flash everyone.
The irony that only a handful of weeks ago wearing something so revealing would garner me a date with Fathers belt isn’t lost on me. Apparently, what Angus wants he gets, no questions asked. This whole thing makes me sick to my stomach.
Taking a fortifying breathe, I brace myself for the night ahead and make my way downstairs. My younger brother, Peter, is stood in front of a mirror, frowning at that one strand of hair that’s refusing to be slicked back and looking far more concerned with his appearance than the obvious tension in the room. Mother and Father are gathered near the door with matching looks of frustration lining their features as they exchange heated words. But it’s my little sister who catches and keeps my attention. The fear and unease in her blue eyes are a mirror of mine. As I look at her my determination for tonight to be the last time we’re forced to go along with this charade strengthens.
Tearing my gaze from her, I’m met with Father’s assessing stare. He takes me in from head to toe with a calculated look. From the fancy up do I’d wrangled my wayward curls into, to the high heels that I’d squeezed my protesting feet into. They’re already throbbing with pain, but I know better than to show that weakness. For a breath I think I might just pass his assessment, but then his eyes narrow and his lip curls as he focuses in on my throat.
Shit.
“I thought I told you to remove that cheap piece of crap.” His voice is a low snarl that has Freya flinching and shrinking in on herself even though his ire isn’t aimed at her. Instinctively I reach up to touch the shell necklace that I never take off. It’s the only reminder I have of better days. Days when things where carefree and less life or death. It was a gift from a boy who I’d spent one summer flirting with and while the boy may be long forgotten, a part of me longs for the reminder of happier times.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I reach behind me to undo the clasp before handing it over. With a smirk, he curls his hand into a fist, shattering the delicate necklace just like he’s shattered my freedom. The symbolism isn’t lost on me.
“You insolate girl,” he snarls, spit flying into my face as he leans closer. “Tonight, is the single most important night of your pathetic life, and you want to show up wearing this tacky thing?” In a split second his hand is flying towards me and before I can duck, it lands painfully against my cheek. The pain is instantaneous and my eyes well up with tears as I lock eyes with Freya. A bitter understanding passes between us; this is what it means to be a woman in this godforsaken Clan.
The sooner I die and set us both free the better.
