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“So if I’m your daughter, why didn’t you come and get me then?” I ask, because, surely, a parent would at least want to see their child.

“I didn’t need you then.”

“But you need me now?” I ask, having no idea what he’s talking about, my splitting headache not helping as I take all of this in.

“Here. Drink up so I can tell you more about your family and your history. I hate to see you parched. I’ve scolded Joseph here for hitting you. He was just trying to bring you home for me.” When he stretches out his hand, offering the cup again, this time, I take it. My mouth is too dry and my head a mess. I take a sip, immediately glad I did, as I feel the tea soothe my dryness, and I try to think back to my life as a child. Trying to think of anything that I missed about my father that may have indicated that he’s not my biological parent.

With my mind swirling, I continue to sip. This chamomile tea is really good.

“That’s it, my child. Drink up. Then the two of you can consummate,” he says simply, and I choke, coughing as the tea falls from my lips and dribbles down my chin.

“Consummate?” Spluttering, I look from him to the other guy, who appears younger, although just as weathered by the elements and natural living.

“Consummate your union.” He stands, smiling down at me, where I remain on the floor, my hips sore from lying on the timber floorboards for so long.

“Our union?” I ask, then instantly pause.Is my speech slurring?My vision blurs at the edges, and I look down at the cup before I look back at him, knowing that he drugged me with something.

“Our numbers are not what they used to be.”

The terror I felt earlier is back in full throttle as my hands start to shake.

“Probably because you’re forcing people here against their will,” I tell him, my fiery nature coming out as I try to stand. But my legs feel like Jell-O, and I fail miserably.

“So we need more children, born into this life.” He ignores my comment, now looking at me like he cares very little.

“And what do I have to do with that?” I ask, my words tripping over each other as I try to stand again. Joseph waits patiently next to him, remaining silent, yet looking me over.

“As my daughter, your womb is what will bring new life. Mother Nature has blessed us with you, and now she’ll help you birth our babies.”

This can’t be happening. Why did I drink this tea? Why is my dad not my dad? Why does this man have eyes that look like my own?

“There was no blessing, only kidnapping, which I’m pretty sure is a federal offense.” I’m trying to keep the vomit down as the room starts to spin. I can’t take a full breath.

“We don’t live life by other man's law. We have our own law,” he grits out, clearly not happy with all my questions.

“Kidnapping is kidnapping,” I tell him, because even though my body doesn’t seem to have strength, my mouth is still semi-functional, and she isn’t going down without a fight.

“You are my daughter. You're my only blood. Your role is here. You are to breed babies with Joseph. Joseph has been here since birth. He’s our favorite son here at Forest Falls.”

“No…” I stutter out, shocked at what I’m hearing. The fear that I can’t move my body starts to consume me. I think of Connor. Of what my life was about to become. How happy I was that we were going to bring our lives together.

“Hmmmm, good child. The tea is working. You will be blessed by the mother of fertility…” the man who says he is my father hums.

“No,” I say, but it’s weak, my voice barely audible now.

“It’s okay, my child. You’re home now. We take care of our own.”

My eyes close, yet the last thing I see is his smile, and I know it will haunt me forever.

43

CONNOR

“Tell me you know who it is?” I ask the minute Daisy’s parents step out of the jet. I need to ensure my pilot gets a raise, because he flew here faster than I knew was possible, knowing how urgent it was. Dad, our security team, the sheriff and his men, and I have all been here for half an hour, waiting for them to land. Our small airstrip has been overrun with cars, choppers nearby at the ready. I’ve even spoken to Harrison, the president, and he’s waiting for my call, should he need to help get more feet on the ground.

It’s early afternoon. The sheriff has called in support from nearby counties, and my father has called in our security firm. We’re all ready to find her but have absolutely nothing to go on.

“It’s a man from the commune I left over twenty-five years ago,” Daisy’s mother, Rainbow, says, almost breathless as they walk quickly to meet us. She looks remorseful, and her husband puts his arm around her. Their eyes are red and swollen, clearly shaken up.