Chapter 7

  "Who hired you, girl? Talk."

  Her voice shook as she replied,

  "I… I don’t know."

  Tears dripped from Vivi’s eyes as Dad held her two feet above the ground by her neck. Impressively, she didn’t seem to be suffocating—but that could change in a heartbeat with how angry my father was.

  He responded to Vivi’s unhelpful answer.

  "Listen, I don’t give a damn about you or how you make a living. But you messed with my boy, hooker. Either you start giving names and locations, or I make you a modern-day Christ and crucify you for their sins. Right here. Right now. And I don’t think they paid you for that—remember, you charge per hour."

  Thomas visibly tightened his grip, slowly depriving Vivi of oxygen. I was worried. Sure, she had dragged me into this with her false accusations, but I didn’t want to see my dad become a murderer because of me.

  "Dad, you might really kill her! Loosen your grip before it’s too late!"

  Dad, seemingly unfazed by my warning, maintained his pressure on her windpipe while staring directly at her gasping face—calm, collected, as if he’d played these games before. He continued staring at Vivi, signaling that if she wanted to die, she would—but he wasn’t letting go. Her squeals seemed to decrease, and then I heard:

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "Okay, fine. Sebastian hired me, but since he was busy, Matthew is the one in charge. I only know his location."

  Thomas dropped Vivi, and her body collapsed onto the pavement. She gasped desperately, drawing as much air as she could into her lungs. Her face was a mess, tears and snot covering most of it. Knocking on heaven’s door wasn’t pretty.

  He turned to me, still curled up in the corner of the back seat. Tears and snot covered most of my face too—I guess my cheeks were as red as roses, though I couldn’t be sure.

  "Elijah, listen. Sorry you got involved in this, but I don’t think it’ll get dangerous tonight. You’re going to take a taxi home, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Understood?"

  "No… what do you mean tomorrow?"

  "I have to take care of this, okay? I’ll be back home before you get back from school, I promise."

  My dad—who had never broken a promise in all the time I had known him—was about to make his first and last.

  "Okay, I’ll take a taxi. But please be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt, old man."

  Noticing my genuine concern, Dad reached out and embraced me. Warm and reassuring, he smelled of whiskey and his expensive cologne—surprisingly nostalgic. It calmed me down.

  "Elijah, like I said, I’ll be back by noon. All I’m gonna do is have a long talk with your uncle Sebastian, okay?"

  I wanted to believe that was the truth, but not while he wore that murderer’s face—calm, calculated rage. As I got into the taxi, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wasn’t over, and life would never be the same again.

  Moments after the taxi left:

  "Hooker, get in and show me where Matthew is."

  Vivi, regaining a bit of stubbornness now that she could breathe, shot back,

  "My name is Vivi, and I’m not a hooker, okay?"

  Thomas rolled his eyes and let out a loud, deep sigh.

  "Right, sure. I don’t care what you identify as—hooker, entertainer, independent woman—it’s all the same. Everything has a price. So if you don’t want to feel what anaerobic respiration is like again, shut up and point the way."

  Still reminded of the lingering pain in her neck, Vivi entered the car, and they drove off toward Matthew.