Page 77 of Forgotten Sacrifice
“Go away.”
Cursing, I hustle to my room, returning with the key. Unlocking the door, I find Luna on the floor, holding a bloody towel to her wrist.
I squat down beside her, jerking the towel away to find old her scars have been cut open, a bloody razor blade on the floor next to her.
Silently, I rise and march to my room, returning with my belt. Jerking her up by her arm, she doesn’t try to fight me.
“I warned you, Luna, if you ever cut yourself again, I’d teach you what real pain feels like. Face down on the bed. This isn’t going to feel good.”
She silently complies, which isn’t Luna at all.
I feel so fucking out of control because I don’t know what’s wrong, let alone how to fix it. Jerking her back up, I give her shoulders a little shake. “Tell me why you cut yourself!”
“I didn’t get into the Chess Hall,” she whispers, tears spilling from her eyes and down her cheeks. “And Coach Petrov isn’t going to coach me.”
I grab her phone, reading the email.
We regret to inform you, your application to the Chess Hall has been declined. Please know membership is extremely competitive…
Closing that out, I pull up the email from the coach.My offer to coach you is unfortunately rescinded. Wishing you luck in your chess career.
“Get ready, we’re going to Newark.”
Luna
“Why are we going to Newark?” I stare out the window.
“To see my boss.”
“Fabio?” I say, confused.
“No.Theboss.”
My eyes go wide. “Vince, I’m sorry?—”
He holds up his hand, silencing me.
I glance down to the bandage on my wrist, shame and regret washing over me as my mind spins like a hamster wheel. Why are we going to see Romeo Parisi? Have I become too much of a headache, even for Vince? But then why would he get the boss involved?
I’m a nervous wreck by the time we arrive in Newark. Vince rolls down his window, pressing the call button on the security gate. “Vince and Luna, here to see the boss.”
I gulp, wiping my sweaty hands on my skirt.
The gate swings open, and we proceed down a long driveway, reaching a lovely house. Not an opulent mansion that I was expecting, but still nicer than any house I’ve ever visited.
“Vince, please tell me what we’re doing here,” I beg, but he ignores me.
A man is there to greet us when we park and exit the vehicle. He’s holding the leash to a monstrous doberman, and I inch closer to Vince. “Morning. I need all electronics,” the man says.
“Luna, your phone.” I hand it to Vince, who passes it to the man along with his phone, and the man runs some kind of wand over them, and then us before we’re cleared.
An old woman in a velour tracksuit and sneakers appears at the door, saying something to Vince in Italian as she opens her arms. They embrace in a hug, and she turns her attention to me. “This your girl?” she asks Vince while taking me in.
I glance to Vince, curious how he’ll answer.
“This is Luna,” he simply says. “This is Nonna,” Vince tells me.
“Hello,” I say.
