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“Oh,” I say with a humorless laugh. “Nah, I think I do, Pops. I know everything you’ve been up to. Trying to protect Mom, huh? It sure didn’t look that way when you had that chick face-first in your lap.”

The pain in my face surprises me, but not more than the fact my father just punched me in the mouth.

“Storm,” he grates out, taking a step away from me and putting his hands to his head. He looks bewildered and distressed and dismayed at what he just did, but at this point, I couldn’t give a fuck.

I lick my lip in a slow move, letting the tang of blood set my mood.

“Storm, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. For everything.”

He shakes his head, and for once, the strong, unstoppable man I’ve known my whole life seems…broken.

“Fuck you.” My voice is near a whisper, choked off with my rage.

This man is my father. I will not harm him. I don’t want to harm him.

Even if he’s fucking hurting me.

He takes a step closer with caution, as if approaching a wild lion.

“There will be a time when I won’t be here to protect you, Storm. There may not even be time for me to right all the wrongs.”

Right the wrongs? How does one make participating in human trafficking right?

My father winces, and I realize I’ve said the last part out loud.

His next words turn my anger into mist.

“They will kill everything you love to keep you in line.”

Silence, thick and deadly, spans the space between us. It’s almost hard to breathe.

“They?”

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he straightens his cuffs, composes himself like he didn’t just pop me in the mouth or we haven’t been yelling at each other for the last five minutes.

“Now you’re going to go back in there and keep your head down. Pretend that you’re open to the idea of a merger with the De Luca family.”

I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “A merger? Fuck, Dad.”

“Storm,” he says, his tone a slice in the air. “Do you understand?”

I don’t answer.

Not right away.

But eventually, I nod…deciding then and there that this shit ends now.

Before it’s too late.

Shae curlsup in my arms as we lay sideways on the sofa withSelenaplaying in the background. An empty pizza box and two cans of Coke cover part of the coffee table, and I’m as content as I can reasonably expect, I think.

The film was her choice, despite her having seen it a hundred times, and I have to admit it’s cute when she shouts out lines and tries to sing along to the songs. The way she rocked her hips whenComo la Florcame on was both cute and hot.

But now as the film takes a shift when Selena and Chris elope, I find myself sinking into my feelings.

Specifically, I find myself sinking into thoughts of my dad and the bullshit he spewed at the club today.