were in and grabbed hold of both my upper arms. He gave me a little shake. Not too roughly, but enough to get my attention.
"Don't you get it, Sarah. He owns you. Fuck it! He owns me, so he owns you too. Roan McLaren is not like normal men. He values his possessions only so much as to ensure they remain his. To lose either of us would be a hit to his pride, one he wouldn't suffer lightly. To lose you..." he trailed off there, a look of disgust crossing his face. I knew it wasn't disgust at me. My father had never looked at me like that, but seeing it on his face, when so close to mine, left me chilled to the bone.
"Dad," I pleaded. "I don't know if I can do this." I really didn't. Not just the scary part of it all, but the constant looking over your shoulder. The idea that I could never trust anyone ever again. It was a lot to ask an eighteen year old.
"Sarah," he said, his voice cracking as he wrapped me up in his arms and gave me a gentle squeeze. He pulled back and looked down at me. Sad blue eyes staring out of a tired and worn face, laced with fear. "The only way I will be able to go on, is if I know you are doing everything in your power to prevent Roan finding you. If I doubt your ability to do that, then I might as well hand Roan a loaded gun right now and tell him to shoot me in the heart with it."
I stared up at my father and felt fury wash through my veins.
"Don't put this on me," I begged. "I'm not strong enough to bear the burden of your life as well."
I watched as my father's face hardened into something I had never thought I'd see directed at me. I knew he needed to be tough when called on to do Roan's dirty work, but he'd shielded that side of himself from me over the years. He let me see it now.
"You are stronger than you think. You are a Monaghan, raised in the shadow of a drug lord's world. Your playground growing up was the Compound Roan McLaren ruled from. You have steel in your bones and sweet honey in your veins. Learn to use both well. Or you are no daughter of mine."
I wrenched my arms out of his grip and stumbled back from him.
"What the hell, Dad?" I demanded, probably showing a little of that steel and none of the sweet honey he'd just mentioned.
"Do you love me, baby girl?" he asked, a complete 180 from the hardened man I'd just met for the first time.
"Of course," I said immediately. My need to reassure him part of my heart and soul.
"Then make me believe this isn't all in vain. Give me a reason to go on living, to breathe the same air that man does, in order to keep you safe."
"Dad," I said on a whisper.
"I need to believe it, Sarah. Otherwise, why go on?"
I think I hated him a little in that moment. Forcing me to commit to a promise that would mean so much. Didn’t he understand what he was asking of me? Didn't he care that my life would never be free and easy ever again? If he gave me hope that I could just see the next few years out and it would all be over, I knew I could manage it then. But indefinitely? To forever look over my shoulder, to never lower my guard?
It was too much and I couldn't make that promise. So I turned on my heel and ran from the rooms we shared. Already moving in the shadows of the Compound. Already blending in, being seen but not perceived. For three days I avoided my father, then on the fourth, reality came crashing back in.
I was sitting in my favourite hiding spot. On top of the roof at the rear building, overlooking fields that backed onto the perimeter fence. It was night out, so lights bathed the carpark on the far side, and in the stillness I could hear the electricity humming in the fence several metres away. The odd security guard with his leashed Doberman dog walked past, doing the perimeter check. But none thought to look up here.
I spent many hours sitting under the stars hoping to spot a falling one on which I could wish. None came that night. But Roan McLaren did. Into the back field, the other side of the electrified fence. He had four
"Don't you get it, Sarah. He owns you. Fuck it! He owns me, so he owns you too. Roan McLaren is not like normal men. He values his possessions only so much as to ensure they remain his. To lose either of us would be a hit to his pride, one he wouldn't suffer lightly. To lose you..." he trailed off there, a look of disgust crossing his face. I knew it wasn't disgust at me. My father had never looked at me like that, but seeing it on his face, when so close to mine, left me chilled to the bone.
"Dad," I pleaded. "I don't know if I can do this." I really didn't. Not just the scary part of it all, but the constant looking over your shoulder. The idea that I could never trust anyone ever again. It was a lot to ask an eighteen year old.
"Sarah," he said, his voice cracking as he wrapped me up in his arms and gave me a gentle squeeze. He pulled back and looked down at me. Sad blue eyes staring out of a tired and worn face, laced with fear. "The only way I will be able to go on, is if I know you are doing everything in your power to prevent Roan finding you. If I doubt your ability to do that, then I might as well hand Roan a loaded gun right now and tell him to shoot me in the heart with it."
I stared up at my father and felt fury wash through my veins.
"Don't put this on me," I begged. "I'm not strong enough to bear the burden of your life as well."
I watched as my father's face hardened into something I had never thought I'd see directed at me. I knew he needed to be tough when called on to do Roan's dirty work, but he'd shielded that side of himself from me over the years. He let me see it now.
"You are stronger than you think. You are a Monaghan, raised in the shadow of a drug lord's world. Your playground growing up was the Compound Roan McLaren ruled from. You have steel in your bones and sweet honey in your veins. Learn to use both well. Or you are no daughter of mine."
I wrenched my arms out of his grip and stumbled back from him.
"What the hell, Dad?" I demanded, probably showing a little of that steel and none of the sweet honey he'd just mentioned.
"Do you love me, baby girl?" he asked, a complete 180 from the hardened man I'd just met for the first time.
"Of course," I said immediately. My need to reassure him part of my heart and soul.
"Then make me believe this isn't all in vain. Give me a reason to go on living, to breathe the same air that man does, in order to keep you safe."
"Dad," I said on a whisper.
"I need to believe it, Sarah. Otherwise, why go on?"
I think I hated him a little in that moment. Forcing me to commit to a promise that would mean so much. Didn’t he understand what he was asking of me? Didn't he care that my life would never be free and easy ever again? If he gave me hope that I could just see the next few years out and it would all be over, I knew I could manage it then. But indefinitely? To forever look over my shoulder, to never lower my guard?
It was too much and I couldn't make that promise. So I turned on my heel and ran from the rooms we shared. Already moving in the shadows of the Compound. Already blending in, being seen but not perceived. For three days I avoided my father, then on the fourth, reality came crashing back in.
I was sitting in my favourite hiding spot. On top of the roof at the rear building, overlooking fields that backed onto the perimeter fence. It was night out, so lights bathed the carpark on the far side, and in the stillness I could hear the electricity humming in the fence several metres away. The odd security guard with his leashed Doberman dog walked past, doing the perimeter check. But none thought to look up here.
I spent many hours sitting under the stars hoping to spot a falling one on which I could wish. None came that night. But Roan McLaren did. Into the back field, the other side of the electrified fence. He had four
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