Page 127 of The Cruelest Chaos
I’m still in a chair, and my wrists are still free, and there’s still a sigil.
And Ella is still in the room.
But so is someone else.
Two other people, actually.
My father, and…Ria.
Ella is still in the black skirt, the white shirt, and so is Ria. Like schoolgirls. My father is all in black as he stands in front of the sigil.
I go to stand to my feet, my throat so fucking dry I can’t speak anymore, not like I was when Ella was freeing me.
I glance at her as I’m halfway up, my hands supporting my weight against the arms of the chair.
She doesn’t have a knife.Was she freeing me?
She has tears in her eyes. Tracking down her beautiful face.
And Ria…Ria ishere.
“Don’t,” my father warns me, his eyes hard on mine. “Sit back down, Maverick, or this won’t end well for you.”
And then I see it. What I didn’t want to see. What I don’t want to be real.
This isn’t real.
My father has a gun in his hand and he’s holding it to Ria’s temple. She’s on her knees, her lip trembling, eyes closed.
Ella is…Ella is free. But she’s standing between us. My father could shoot any of us so, so easily.
My jaw clenches. I want to speak, I want to scream, I want to rip my fucking hair out but…
My father’s blue eyes are focused on mine, a smile playing on his lips. His hair is trimmed, as if he got it cut just for this.
“You have a choice to make, Maverick.”
My eyes shoot from Ria to Ella, then back to my father. I stay sitting, even though it’s killing me. Even though my fists are clenched so hard my nails are digging into my skin.
“Polygamy is, unfortunately, not sanctioned by the 6.” He sighs, as if that’s a thing that upsets him. He rolls his eyes toward the ceiling, shrugging, the gun held steady to Ria’s head.
She still has her eyes closed, her face screwed up tight.
Where has she been all this time? Why didn’t she run?Stupid, stupid girl.
But maybe she did run. Maybe they got her as soon as she left my house.
Stupid, violent boy.
“And as you’ve told both of these girls far, far too much, I’m going to need you to tell me which one to shoot.”
I look at Ella. Her eyes are wide, her hands fisted in the hem of her skirt, like she wants to come to me. Like it’s taking all of her willpower to stay where she is.
“Ella,” I ask her, my throat like sandpaper with every word, “is this real?”
She smiles at me, but it’s sad. I watch her throat bob as she swallows, sucking in her bottom lip and nodding. “Yes, baby.”
Baby.
