Book three of the only series
They gave her one mission. They told her to find the Chicago mob Capo and get revenge. So they sent her away. She had a plan. A mindset. Goals she needed to reach.
Until she met his son.
He was supposed to be the en...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Two nights before Faye was taken...
"How many times are you going to start that over, Faye?" Sebastian asked me from his spot on the chair across from me.
I looked up at him, away from my painting that I had been working on. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked at me. Eyes that were almost electric right now, like if you touched him he'd burn you. I always wondered if my eyes looked like that. But my eyes were a different shade of blue than my brothers.
We still all looked alike though, me and Seb the most. He was my second oldest brother. The nicer one is what I prefer to say. He didn't talk to me much, but that was better than all the things Thomas said to me.
I'd rather sit in silence than hear what he had to say about me. Because it was never nice.
"I want it to be perfect," I said, assessing my painting again. It was sloppy everytime I looked at it and I didn't like that, I needed it to be perfect.
"Not everything needs to be perfect," he replied.
He was right. But if it wasn't perfect then it was nothing. Then I was nothing. I needed a purpose, I needed to be worthy of something. And if I couldn't possibly paint something so simple and have it be perfect then what was I here for?
My father needed something to be proud of. If I couldn't do this then he had a reason to send me away like he had been talking about.
"You shouldn't paint for anyone else but yourself," Seb said suddenly.
"But-"
"But father doesn't care either way."
My shoulders dropped. He was right. Seb wasn't trying to be mean, he was telling me the truth. The truth always hurts, is what our mom always told us.
My father didn't care for me either way. No matter if I was good at something. I shouldn't have cared that my father didn't love me like he loved my brothers. The love from my mother is what mattered to me the most, but the love from any father was different. A love from a father was crucial to everyone's lives.
Especially when you knew he could love. Just like when he celebrated things with my brothers but never me. I had found out what a birthday was at school and wondered why they never celebrated mine, or if I even had one.
"Don't let Thomas see that," Seb muttered quietly before he got up from his seat and walked back into the house, shutting the door behind him. I was grateful that Seb wasn't as controlling as Thomas or my father.
I knew I wasn't that important to him, but he never told me that I was useless or made me do things that I didn't want to do.
My father always told me that another man would come into my life and be ten times worse than he was. That him forcing me to dress the way he wants and ask permission for everything was nothing.
