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Chapters (41)
  1. Title Page
  2. Table of Contents
  3. Acknowledgements
  4. Dedication
  5. Prologue
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Part Two
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. Chapter Fifteen
  22. Chapter Sixteen
  23. Chapter Seventeen
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Epilogue
  40. Trigger Warnings
  41. Other Books

His eyes come to mine and I follow the mustache that curls around the corners of his lips. “You’re not going to prison, son.” He stands to his feet. “Get up, get your sister, and pack some bags. You’re coming with me.”

“What?” I look up at him again but follow his command. Anything he wants, I do. There’s an air of authority that hangs over him, and I know I have to take him seriously.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, son. Go get your sister, and I’ll meet you both outside.”

Poppy doesn’t pack much even though I tell her to. I break the news to her and hold her as she cries all of her tears into my chest. It’s an hour later that I finally manage to drag her downstairs.

He’s already waiting outside a black SUV, that same cigar burning bright orange in the dark night.

“In the car.”

“How do I know you’re not going to hurt us?”

The man turns over his shoulder and the dimple on his cheek sinks in. “You don’t, but I’m all you’ve got.” He has a point. Opening the back door, I push Poppy in gently, shutting the door once we are inside. He pulls us away from the curb and every now and then, our eyes meet in the rearview mirror.

“Where are you taking us?” I ask when I notice he drives us onto the highway, the one that heads out of town.

“To my house.”

“What? What about my parents?” I could have just directed Poppy into a bad situation. Why haven’t I called the cops? Wait… the cops are here.

“They’re gone, son. I’m not here to be your friend. I’m here to help you both because, well, shit, I don’t know why.”

“You do,” I say, studying the way the corner of his eyes crinkle as if reliving a memory. “You do know why you saved us.”

His hazel eyes meet mine. “Yes. I guess I do.”

After a few minutes, when I know he’s not going to elaborate further, I add, “So do you usually take in strays?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, he pulls us into a long cobblestone driveway. The entry is lit with two lanterns sitting on high posts, and at the end of the drive is a little tower where a man is parked inside, pushing the button to let his car through.