Bound by Honour [Part I & II]

17

My fourth-grade teacher, Miss Thompson, once asked us to draw a monster. We did. I remember I painted a ginormous black, snarling beast with claws to shred me to pieces and pointed teeth to drain my blood.

The next day, Miss Thompson asked us what made them monsters. The question stumped me. I had no idea. I thought the beast resembled a monster because it was big and nasty in appearance. She told us that we can't judge someone by their appearance, that we must get to know someone for who they are, and I started to see what she meant.

I knew one person that, at first glance, seemed charming and a family man, but in truth, he was a cruel and wicked beast on the inside. My father.

I remember that in public, he would open the door for my mom, hold her hand tightly and possessively, and then flirt with other women. At home, he would tell my mom she didn't deserve to be with anyone else because who would love her like him?

My mother would try to diffuse and calm him down, making him more angry and defensive. She demanded Cameron and Jaime take us younger ones upstairs. At the same time, my father began screaming insults, his fists imprinting on the walls and my mom's skin.

Sometimes, Jaime or Cameron would try to stand up to him, but he would threaten them, and mom would get between them. He would tell my siblings and me not to cry, whine, or disappoint him. A child should be seen and not heard, he said. We grew up walking on eggshells, learning not to poke the beast. We learned to move around the house without making a sound, recognize his footsteps on the stairs, and be calm in the midst of chaos.

Royce Monroe stood in front of me, smirking, his

eyes gleaming with danger. He had no compassion or capacity to love his wife and children. A monster, through and through.

His appearance changed over the last two years, with greying hair and beard, but his eyes were cold as ice, just as I remembered them. His lips curled in a sinister sneer. "What, haven't you missed me?" he asked, licking his lips with hunger.

"Maisie, let's go." Noel pressed, wrapping his hand around mine.

I ignored him, staring at Royce and the woman standing beside him, her arm wrapped around his waist. "What do you want?" I snarled, anger and fear soaring through my bones. "Are you following me?"

He chuckled. "Believe it or not, this is a coincidence. I meant to catch up. It has been two years, after all."

"I don't want anything to do with you."

"That's too bad."

"Royce, honey," the woman spoke, "we should go." The woman looked to be in her early-mid forties. She glanced between Noel and me, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Who was this woman, and why did she stand at my father's side?

"Yes, of course. To start the car, I'll be there in a minute," He said, looking down at her, flashing a charming smile. She nodded, giving me one last glance before walking away.

"You killed her. You killed Micaela. You are wanted for her murder and half a dozen other innocent people." I wanted to punch him, to kill him with my bare hands.

He laughed. "Those people were far from innocent," he said, shaking his head. "You have caused a lot of trouble for me, Maisie. I can't let you walk away. Giovanni won't let you walk away."

Giovanni.

That name sent chills down my spine.

Royce grinned. "We really do have to catch up, Maisie."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ashton dashing around the street, searching for us. When his eyes landed on us, he relaxed his shoulders and marched over. He didn't realize who stood before us.