“Have fun with Lisbeth today. I’m sure she’ll be so happy to see you.”
He rolled his eyes. It only caused me to laugh.
“What should I tell her the debt is from? You and I both know she’ll demand answers.”
My thoughts went to my childhood, the years of torment, her cruel voice slicing into my skin over and over. I could see Lisbeth clearly, the beauty of her face at odds with the hatred in her heart. My muscles bunched painfully tight over my shoulders, memory beating me down as easily as she had. It didn’t matter that she’d been a child when committing the crimes. It couldn’t matter that ten years had passed since the last time she’d treated me like an abused dog.
All that mattered was how my mother still remained dead while Lisbeth’s body ran warm.
There was a price for that, and I planned to extract it. Even if it meant I would suffer in the process.
Stepping up to Franklin, I caught his stare.
“She recognized me when I confronted her.”
“Your point?”
The corner of my mouth curled, violence painting my veins.
“That means she’ll know the answers. The second you tell her who runs this house, she’ll understand exactly why she’s been knocked down from being the precious daughter of the family. If she tries to demand we let her go, tell her she had the chance to run. It’s not my fault she chose to return.”
Nodding his head, Franklin shoved away from the wall and stalked in the direction of the servant’s hall.
“Good luck,” I joked, just the thought of what he was about to encounter making me laugh.
His feet stopped in place as he tossed a glare over his shoulder.
“What was it you used to say to me years ago? Ah, I remember. Fuck off.”
I was still laughing as he disappeared around a corner.
Lisbeth was difficult enough to deal with when she had nothing to worry about, but when that woman was pissed off, she was as dangerous as sucking on a live electrical wire.
Lisbeth
A puddle of blood had formed at my feet by the time Franklin walked through the door. I was still crumpled against the wall where Callan had left me, my dignity stripped by the way I’d been dragged through halls and tossed in here like a second thought.
Franklin’s expensive shoes clicked quietly into the room, the doors closing behind him with barely a sound before he turned his grey eyes on me. His expression was unreadable, and I almost laughed at the hesitant way he approached me.
“You appear to be injured.”
I crossed my ankles where my legs were stretched out in front of me, not caring that the soles of my feet were shredded and exposed to his view. I wanted him to see what that bastard had done to me.
Blinking once at the calm tone of his voice, I curled my fingers into my palm to keep from jumping up to strangle him.
It had only been a few hours that I sat here, but every thought ran through my head, my mother’s voice whispering in warning that Franklin would only finish what my father had started, that I would be served up as an expensive dish to the man that killed everybody that night.
It didn’t make sense that I’d been dragged to this room first.
Regardless, all warmth I’d held for my uncle was now buried beneath a mountain of distrust.
“I hear you’re the person who demanded I be dragged here. If you don’t like the blood then get out.”
He didn’t react to the venom in my voice. Instead, he crossed the room to open a cabinet and pull out a small box. Crossing the room, he dropped it to the floor beside me.
“A first aid kit. You should bandage those before Gretchen returns. She won’t care that you’re injured. She’ll simply drag you around to show you what to do, then demand you clean up the bloody footprints when you’re done.”
My gaze locked to his, eyes narrowed. “Why am I in here?”
“Because Mr. Rose demanded it.”
My brows tugged together, anger and confusion blending in my veins until it was pure poison.
“You are Mr. Rose,” I screamed, not that it mattered to him.
“I am,” he answered. “But I didn’t take your father’s place as head of the family. As such, I don’t make the decisions. I’m only here now because you asked to see me.”