Wild Card by Ashley Munoz

Prologue

Taylor

Thirteen Years Old

“I knowthis won’t make sense right now.” My father’s confident timbre was a shudder down my spine. I had squeezed my eyes shut after I’d stumbled upon the lifeless body on my way to the garden.

“This man tried to steal from me. From us. This was his penance.” My father stood, staring down at me, “do you know what that word means?”

Of course, I knew what penance meant. He’d been explaining his murders to me in the same way since I was seven and first witnessed him blowing another man’s brains out.

My stomach tilted and my throat grew tight like I might throw up. I was on the verge of tears, but I had learned at young age that my father didn’t appreciate them. So, I nodded, slowly cracking my eyes.

“Good. What happens to people who steal from us.” He glared at me, wiping the blood that coated his hand. The white rag came away red and ruined.

I swallowed the thick saliva that had coated my mouth. “We remind them.”

“Yes, my értékes.” My precious.

I tried to take comfort in my father’s use of the Hungarian pet name for me, but over the years it was getting hard to summon the emotion.

“No matter how much time has passed, even if it is sent to the following generation.”

I gave him a firm nod, learning long ago that a wobbly chin, or a waffled stance on why he had to kill people got me in trouble. Usually the kind where I had to be alone, in my room, or worse…shoot something.

So far, I’d been forced to shoot three sheep, and one pig during my father’s lessons. The heavy feeling of the gun in my hand and the kick back of the trigger, still crept along my veins sometimes when I closed my eyes at night. So did the look in the helpless animals’ eyes. I was never allowed to close mine.

My father had started those lessons with his strong arm around me, holding me in place, then his hand covered mine, his strong finger ghosting over mine so I would feel the power to end a life.

“This is a lesson.” He’d always mutter before leaving me alone in the room with the bleeding animal and still loaded gun. I suppose a lesson was better than penance.

“Jakob, take this.” My fathers voice pulled me from those darker memories. The silver gun was taken out of my father’s hand and holstered into Jack’s inner vest. Jack was a good guy, as far as I could tell. His official name was Jakob, but since I was little, he’d smile, hand me a stick of gum and tell me to call him Jack. He was always around when there was blood, or a dead body but never when I was forced to shoot animals.

“Are you ready to spend time with Markos.” My father pushed my shoulder, until my feet were moving around the edge of the landscaped yard and cobble stone walkway. I looked back in time to see Jack grab a shovel before I was forced forward.

“I don’t like him.” I explained, belatedly realizing how foolish I sounded. My father had been forcing what used to be play dates with Markos on me since I was seven, now they were getting closer and closer to real dates and I was still in the dark as to why he kept insisting on them. He didn’t care that Markos was mean, or that the angry, spoiled boy had killed a helpless bird that had fallen and broke its wing, or that he pulled my hair when I didn’t do what he wanted.

My fathers laugh made me feel small, and helpless.

“You might want to get used to him, értékes. You’ve two have been matched since birth.”

I stopped so fast that my father had to pause and look over his shoulder to track where I’d gone.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Don’t play stupid. This is a family business. Everything we do, we do for each other.” Red dots still splattered the back of his hand as it ran along the strands of my longer hair, and there were even a few spots on his white shirt.

“I’m only thirteen…” I licked my lips, trying to get my tongue to unstick from the roof of my mouth.

His laugh was another shudder, a roll of thunder along my frail bones. “You won’t marry until you’re older értékes.” He tossed his black eyes up to Sloan, one of my father’s men, who’d walked close enough to overhear.

“Twenty-one, little one. That’s plenty of time to hate little Markos, see if you can drown him before then.” Sloan ruffled my hair, letting out a heavy laugh. My father smirked, but it didn’t last.

“Markos is imperative to the continuation of this business. You will marry him when the time comes, and you will not fight me on it.” His glare was like being trapped in a vault with no way out. It was like being stared down by the devil himself.

I silently accepted this fate, even though a riot of rage and fire burned behind my chest. I slowly trailed after them as the knowledge that I had to get out of this family settled around me like armor. I just needed time to figure a way out of the future my father had doomed me to.

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