Page 44

Welcome To Paradise

“ W hat the hell is going on? How are you alive? Where are we? Where are my friends?” I demand, question after question pouring out of me as I eye my father.

He holds up his hand to stop my rapid-fire questions and walks towards me, I instinctively move back into a fighting position.

Pain flashes through his bright blue eyes and he stops with an awkward smile, obviously unsure how to approach me.

I bet I look like a wild animal compared to him; where he is put together and calm, my blood is racing with the need to fight.

My body only highlights our differences, the scars and brands standing out against my skin in this pale room where his hair is perfect and styled, I can’t even remember the last time I brushed mine.

I wonder what he sees when he looks at me.

Does he see his little girl or a stranger?

“I know you have questions, kiddo. I promise I will answer them. For now, know that you are safe and your...erm friends are fine. Please, just calm down.” His voice is soft, the one he used to use on me when I was a scared child.

Calm down? That makes me want to stab him. The only thing stopping me is that I need his help. Is that bad? That I would be willing to kill my own father, even if he did abandon me? Shouldn’t I be happier to see him?

“I want to see them,” I grit out, straightening from my crouch but still watching him intently in case he moves towards me. He nods and holds his hand out. When I don’t take it, he frowns, the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth pulling taut.

“Okay, why don’t you get dressed and I’ll take you to see them.” His voice is smooth, his words slow like he’s trying to corner a wild animal. Well, that’s what I am after all.

Thorn falling to the ground flashes in my mind, as do Jax’s eyes as he watched me hopelessly.

If they are hurt––or worse, dead––I will burn this fucking place to the ground and kill everyone.

There would be no holding back the monster inside me, I would succumb and be nothing more than a bloodthirsty Berserker.

I should have told them how I feel, I just hope it’s not too late.

Blowing out a breath, I let the death grip on my blade go, and look towards the chair where a god awful dress sits. I cringe at the thought of wearing it, but if it will get me to my men sooner...groaning, I nod. He smiles brilliantly at me like I offered him the world.

“Good, I’ll wait outside while you get dressed.

You can keep the knife, the grey-eyed man said you wouldn’t feel safe without it.

Just please don’t hurt anyone.” The last words are hesitant, as if he’s unsure whether I would or not.

It only hits home how much I have changed and how he is nothing more than a stranger to me.

Wait, grey-eyed man? Only one man I know has grey eyes, Jax. My silent demon. Even his name has my heart speeding up and joy running through me. I would endure a lot more than that dress to see him again, to touch him, kiss him.

I rush to the dress as my father leaves the room and yank it on.

I grunt and growl as I wiggle into the tight material.

It’s silky but constrictive. Nowhere to hide any weapons at all.

Why do people wear these things? If those motherfucking men of mine helped pick out this dress I’m going to put them in it, wounds or not.

Then I might kiss them better. My knife glints at me from the chair and an evil smile reaches my lips.

Grabbing it, I start hacking at the material, cutting the length until it’s short in the front and a normalish level at the back, making it easier to move.

Material goes flying everywhere as I slice through it.

When I’m satisfied, I look down at the red material.

It looks too much like blood for my liking, but I grin at the rough-edged dress.

It looks like it’s been through the wringer and back, just like me.

I’m betting Dray would love it. If I added a few swords he would die.

Laughing, I freeze when I try to figure out how long we have been here.

My brain trying to catch up with everything.

The Summit was only days away when I left The Worshippers. ..

Swearing, I rush to the door. As I approach it, it opens with a whoosh, the air releasing from the room.

If possible, the lights out here are brighter and guess what?

More white. My father––that feels weird to say––smiles at me from the other side, but it soon turns into a frown when he gets a look at my face.

He pulls his hands from his trouser pockets, and steps towards me as if to touch me.

He hesitates at the last second and lets them drop, the space between us filled with tension and memories, but I have far more important things to worry about right now .

“What’s wrong, princess?” His eyes search mine, obviously seeing my panic.

My heart clenches at the familiar endearment, but I have no time for a trip down memory lane. “How long have I been out?” I ask quickly.

He rubs his chin in thought, his eyes calculating and intelligent.

He always was a smart man, relying on logic.

I remember how he used to say my mum was the heart and he was the brain.

That despite all his logic, she convinced him that love does exist. He used to come into my room and read me books on everything and anything.

From science to history, I loved it all.

I absorbed it all, it was just us, our time.

My mum said I had his drive and thirst for knowledge, and her big heart.

I grit my teeth against the memories, it’s obvious seeing him again has brought up everything I have repressed.

“About a day, why?” He steps closer, but I’m too busy trying to figure out the timeline.

It took us three days to get there. We spent a day at the cult.

Say a half a day travelling, and a day here.

Six days to be sure. That means The Summit is happening in six days.

Four days until Dray starts looking for me.

I have no doubt he will too. He will start with the Worshippers, burning any treaty that might be possible for the future.

There will be nothing but a bloodbath in his wake.

Then he will go to The Reeves. It will be a massacre, with my crazy ‘soulmate’ in the centre like some fallen angel.

There will be nothing and no one left to help us stop Ivar.

I look at my father, someone I’m supposed to trust above anyone else, and hesitate. How much do I tell him?

“Nothing, just wondered,” I finish lamely, I’ve come too far to trust someone just because of blood.

He hasn’t been in my life for years. I thought he was dead for god’s sake!

I’m trying to ignore that thought, my whole being demanding I see my men before I question my father.

Everything else can wait now that I know we still have time to get back to The Ring.

He nods, but his face tells me he doesn’t believe me, his eyes imploring me to trust him.

When the silence stretches and it becomes obvious I won’t say anything else, he deflates, his shoulders slumping and that twinkle in his eyes dimming.

I refuse to feel guilty. How can he expect me to trust him when I don't even know him? I’ve seen too much, learnt lessons the hard way about trust.

“Come on, let’s get you to your friends before they burn this place down.

Or kill someone looking for you,” he mutters the last, and it makes me smile.

Those are my guys. Blinking, he looks at my torn up dress, obviously just seeing it, then back to my face.

Wisely, he stays silent, his eyes asking what he daren’t.

My father offers me his arm, the distance between us begging me to take it. But I can’t, he’s still a stranger to me. I start walking, and he sighs before falling in next to me.

“We have a lot to talk about, after you check on your friends, of course,” he says after the silence starts to get awkward.

I nod mutely, my eyes wide as they take in wherever we are. We turn a corner and I freeze in shock, my eyes glued to one of the walls in the wide corridor. Like in the room I woke up in, there is glass from floor to ceiling. But it’s the people outside that makes me freeze.

Women and children are laughing and playing in what looks like a garden.

So many children, more than I can ever remember seeing.

No worries, no weapons, hell there aren’t even men out there.

They seem genuinely happy, and their clothes!

It’s like before the world died. Dresses, loose pants, shirts.

You name it, it looks like an advert for the early 2000’s.

Or a dream. A young girl runs past the window, her pigtails streaming in the wind behind her as her blue dress and white socks shine in the sunlight.

Another young girl with blonde ringlets chases after her, laughing hysterically, her bright pink dress trailing behind her like a cape.

Two older women, plump and clean, watch and laugh from the closest table, their smiles genuine, and their happiness almost palpable.

The glass dividing us only reinforces our differences.

Where they are light, I am dark. I can be happy, but I will never be that carefree. Not when I know what waits out there.