21-year-old Florence Ivelle struggles through college to claim freedom but gets trapped into a deal with her brother, Alastor, leaving her at his mercy until she graduates. She doesn't expect to be kidnapped into breaking it.
Three masked men take h...
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I was five years old when my mother died.
With red-rimmed eyes and a bouquet of namesakes for her, I trembled as she was lowered into the ground.
Paisley Ivelle; my beautiful, kind mother who would never live again.
My older brother Alastor elbowed me when I cried, whispering harshly, "You're being selfish."
I didn't mean to be selfish; I just missed my mother's laugh terribly. I missed everything about her, but I tried to stop crying. I didn't want to take the attention away from her final moments above ground.
Wherever she was, I hoped she wouldn't be lonely, and I hoped when I died, I would join her. We would have pancakes with berries and whipped cream like we used to.
Alastor gripped my elbow, applying pressure to it. "Stop crying," he warned.
He'd always been so much bigger than me; so much crueler.
"I can't," I whispered brokenly.
"You will," he said sharply. "Or Dad will give you something to cry about at home."
I stiffened, my eyes flying to my brother's with intense worry and fear. "Please don't! I'll be good, Als, I swear."
His eyes narrowed. "Then stop crying."
"I will," I agreed tearfully. "Promise, Als."
Alastor had always scared me. He was mean, taking my toys and breaking them just to watch me cry. My mother would intervene, but my father, Killian, would watch with a gleam in his eye and a curve to his mouth.
Without my mother to intervene anymore, I was sure Alastor would break all of my toys, and when they'd all been broken, I was afraid he would break me next.
