The Sinner's Club [18+] Complete

chapter forty-six.

THE PHONE RINGS for so long that I am sure there is not going to be an answer.

Perhaps the phone I am trying to reach is no longer in service...perhaps it hasn't been for years.

Then, "Who is this?" Anthony's voice, biting and suspicious.

"It's me," I breathe, clutching Nathaniel's cell tightly in my hand. "Is she with you?"

There is some mild shuffling on the other end. "She's my daughter. Where else would she be?"

I think I hear a soft cry from Elodie, and my eyes squeeze shut tightly. "Don't hurt her," I beg quietly. "Please, Anthony."

"I told you: she's my daughter! I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want with her!"

My hand tightens around the phone. "Listen to me, I'm going to come and see you, and we can work this out–"

"No. No, I don't trust you. How did you even know I was here? How did you get this number?"

Viktor made a call, got the number for me.

"It doesn't matter, Anthony. I know where you are now–"

"If you come here with that bodyguard of yours—or anyone for that matter—I'll slit her throat. Do you hear me? It'll be your fault. Do you hear me?" He is manic and frenzied.

"I hear you," a note of panic slips into my voice. "Tell me what I can do to make this right, and to get El back safely. Just tell me, and I'll do it."

"Do you think I wanted this? I didn't. I didn't."

It takes everything in me not to scream at him. Maintain your composure, I remind myself. Your sister's life is at stake. "If it's money you want, Anthony, then I'll give it to you. Just...Please don't hurt her."

"Bring me the money." He jumps on this idea quickly, with little hesitation. "If I see anyone other than you, I'll kill her. And I can see everything from here, the whole world. She'll be dead, where she belongs. I swear it, Amelia."

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The taste of salt on the breeze mingles with the smell of the ocean. Below, waves crash against a jagged, rocky shore. Rising toward the sky is a weathered, old white lighthouse that overlooks the surrounding area. It can see everything, supervising the world like a lone, forgotten soldier of the sea.

High above, a seagull cries into the thick air, and a light drizzle starts, wetting my shirt.

Each step that brings me closer makes nausea roil in my stomach in time with the swell of the ocean.

I remember a few years ago, Anthony brought Elodie home from a rare day out. She described to me the lighthouse he took her to, where she could see all the way to the edge of the world. It had been her favorite place on earth for a long time; she would draw nothing else except waves, boats and lighthouses, with a father and little girl holding hands on the balcony.

I wonder now if a part of me had been jealous of the positive attention she received from Anthony. My own father has never been in the picture—I have never known him, and my mother's death ensured I never will. Perhaps I wanted a connection like that for myself.

Well, if I did harbor any envy, it has long since disappeared. Now, all I feel is empathy for my sister. No matter the outcome of today, she will be scarred for life.

If she's still alive. I try to quiet that insidious voice in my head.

At the very top of the lighthouse, I think I can see some slight movement, but I can't be sure. If they're up there, then he has surely seen me coming.