Page 17 of Forgotten Sacrifice

“The guardianship will be over.” And by guardianship, I mean Vince paying off a judge to sign the papers.

“And?”

“I’m not going to be under your thumb any longer.” I point at him. “Don’t say ‘and’ again!”

A bemused expression washes over his face. “Andyou, my dear Luna, are what the kids calldelulu.”

I cringe. “Please do not ever say the worddeluluagain.”

“Where you gonna go?” he says in a patronizing tone. “You got no family.”

“Because you killed my family!”

“How you gonna survive?” he continues. “You got no money.”

“Because you take all my prize winnings!”

“AndI will continue to take all your prize winnings until your old man’s debt is paid off,andI will continue to take care of you in the meantime. You’re welcome.” He flashes his pearly whites.

“I hate you.” I grit between my teeth.

“AndI’m well aware.” He smirks, walking out.

Chapter

Nine

Luna

The obnoxious sound of pots and pans banging from the kitchen wakes me waaaaay too early. “No.” I smush my pillow over my head and try to go back to sleep, but now the television is competing in volume with the drum line.

Tossing my pillow across the room, I stomp to the bathroom. After using the toilet and washing up, I don’t bother with brushing my hair or my teeth. Vince chose violence this morning; back at him.

Cinching my robe around my waist, I pocket my phone before following the delicious smells to the kitchen. “There’s the birthday girl,” Vince says from behind the stove.

Ignoring him, I open the fridge, grabbing the milk. Walking over to the pantry, I select a box ofblandcereal. I open cabinets, in search of a bowl.

“What are you doing?” he asks, flipping a sizzling piece of bacon.

“Making myself at home, since you’ve ridiculously declared this to be my prison; I meanhome.”

“Put the cereal away. I’m making you breakfast.”

“No thanks,” I say coolly. Finding a bowl, I begin opening drawers in search of a spoon.

“Luna,” he chides. “Another battle of the wills on your birthday? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a fabulous idea.” I go to open another drawer, but Vince slams it shut.

“Sit down, or I’ll strap you to the chair and force-feed you a decent breakfast,” he threatens.

“I’ve taken care of myself since I learned how to walk; I don’t need you micromanaging my life,” I tell him dismissively.

“Stubbornness does not equal strength, Luna.”

“Are these pearls of wisdom my birthday gift? Because I prefer actual jewelry.”

He’s suddenly on me, wrapping his hand around my throat as he advances, and I backpedal until my legs hit the chair. I not so gracefully have a seat, with Vince looming over me with his hand wrapped around my throat.