Prologue

M y long raven black hair is tangled while I stare out from under the table wide-eyed as I hide. My father is angry as he talks to his most trusted men, and I'm not supposed to be here. He's always been someone who is larger than life to me, imposing and important. Little girls are meant to be seen, not heard, unless you're me that is.

Then you're meant to simply disappear until you're needed.

"Seán, we really need to find a way to unite the families, they're a fucking menace," Cormac grumbles, leaning against the wall.

They've been discussing this for the last hour, and I'm stuck here. I was drawing on my sketch pad under the table in my father's office because it was quiet. I didn't know he had a meeting with some of the scariest men in his organization planned today.

Daddy is silent, and I struggle not to shift uncomfortably. I can't see him from here, and as scary as the men in this room are, my father is the worst. I try to hide from him as much as possible, but it's been harder since my mother died.

I once overheard him say he killed her.

At twelve years old though, that's not something I'm supposed to know.

Brendan's father, Duncan, sighs heavily as he leans forward. His son is my best friend and my cousin in some very obscure fashion. If you look hard enough, I'm practically related to everyone in this room, though not by blood.

"Have you thought about just marrying off your brat, Seán? It's asinine to believe she'll be able to be your heir," Duncan Ryan grunts. "Líadan is scrawny now, but I'm sure she'll grow into it. Her mother was a beauty, after all."

"Or you could remarry and try for a boy?" Cormac muses.

My eyes roll at the idea that a boy is better than I am. Brendan and I spar regularly, though he's careful. He's two years older than me, has already killed someone, and is being inducted into the family in a few years. He would never hurt me.

It's so messed up that sixteen is when these men bring people into the family. I don't really understand the rush.

"Bah," my father mutters. "The only thing a woman is good for is to provide a warm hole. I never want to remarry."

Daddy was once completely head over heels for my mother. I remember the way he would look at her, but his mood swings led to violence. She was dead inside long before he killed her.

No one will ever be able to convince me otherwise.

"How are we going to get out of this mess, then?" my uncle Doyle asks. He is my mother's brother, believe it or not, and has never questioned her death. I think he's a blathering idiot.

"The families want to continue to sell their human inventory, and the government is tightening up their laws. Others want to run guns to protect their wealth in the interim. We need to make some decisions."

"We're going to create a Boogeyman," Daddy says softly. "All good things take time, though, and this may mean exactly that. Let's give the savages a bone and give them a place to enjoy themselves, while making a profit. We'll open a club here in Chicago that's members only."

"How will a club help things?" Cormac asks, sounding as if he thinks my father is crazy.

As paranoid as he's become, Daddy is very smart and calculating. I don't believe he hasn't begun planning this all out already. I just hope I'm able to stay as far away as possible from him.

"You'll see," Daddy says. "Líadan, would you like to join us?"

Flinching, it takes me too long to get my limbs untangled. I'm growing so fast, I often over balance and fall over. It's easier to stay out of sight while I get used to my height, with only Brendan to laugh at me.

A large hand wraps around my almost jet black hair, pulling me out of my hiding place. Tears prick my eyes for a variety of reasons. I'm going to be punished for eavesdropping, and I'm angry at myself for getting caught. I have no idea how my father figured out I was here.

My head hits the edge of the table, making me gasp as I struggle to keep up with Cormac. Yanking me to stand, he shakes me for good measure, my colored pencils spilling from my hiding place.

"You were as quiet as a mouse," Daddy says softly, standing from his office chair. "It would have been fine, daughter, but your hair conditioner has a distinct floral scent. When the AC turned on, it blew it right in my face. Why are you spying?"

"I'm not," I begin, but am met with the back of Daddy's hand as he hits me. Breathing hard, he shakes his head. Trying again, I fight to ignore the hot tear trailing down my cheek. "I mean… I came in here to draw, and didn't realize you'd be back. I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be in here."

"I don't believe her," Cormac grunts. "School is out, no one will notice if you happen to break something, boss. She's old enough to know better."

Daddy punches me in the stomach as hard as he would a grown man, and I can't even scream. It hurts so much.

"Don't fucking puke, or we'll make it worse," Cormac growls in my ear as I gag.

Duncan stands, cracking his knuckles. "Your father should have drowned you at birth, girlie," he rumbles as he ambles over to us. He's a hulking beast of a man, not an ounce of fat anywhere on him. I don't understand how he manages it since he likes his sweets as much as he does.

Brendan's father is cruel to everyone around him. My best friend has suffered from unexplained broken bones for years, but Daddy told him to knock that shit off because if he continued, there would be no reason to train him to enter the mafia as a made man. Too many injuries eventually make the body sluggish, though Brendan has bounced back well from them all.

"Eh, there's still time," Daddy says, though there's no heat to his words. He doesn't even seem upset that I'm here. I think he's only punishing me because there are other people here. "If you can get through this without shedding another tear, Líadan, that'll be the end of it. Understood?"

I see the escape for what it is, and force myself to answer despite the pain I feel. "Yes. May I scream?" I ask.

Daddy gazes at me, a cruel smirk curling his thick lips. I don't know how bad this is going to get, and even at twelve, I know how to negotiate. While most kids my age are asking for phones or new clothes, I'm asking for an outlet for pain. I'm not an idiot, everything has a loophole, especially with my father.

"Don't be dramatic, but yes, that'll be fine," he says as if I asked for ice cream for dinner. His dark-green eyes gaze at me as if wondering if I'll actually be able to go through with it.

"Brendan will be gone in Ireland visiting his uncles," Duncan says conversationally. "This means he won't be able to see any of the aftermath. We can do whatever we want to the chit."

Daddy barks out a laugh, as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. My protector is gone, which I suppose is ironic for this situation.

"I bet he's learning a lot from those psychopaths," Daddy says. "You won't have to listen to his indignation because you hurt my precious daughter. Keep it below the face, Duncan, would ya? I may still change my mind and just marry the chit off. It won't do for her to be ugly and stupid."

There's too much happening as I try to focus my wheezing into better breathing and what they're saying at the same time. My brain is on overload, my mind reeling over the fact that I'm being beaten by grown men.

Not for the first time, I wonder if I'll survive Daddy's special brand of parenting. Needless to say, I'm not prepared when Cormac yanks my head back and tightly pulls my wrists behind my spine. Duncan hits my throat, robbing me of my breath before punching my torso several times.

I can't make a sound as I continue to struggle to breathe, and my legs sag underneath me as they give up the ghost.

"I don't know why you have to make things so difficult," Doyle says, leaning against the desk next to Daddy as Duncan pinches my cheeks as he gazes down at me cruelly. "I will say this, I haven't seen a single tear. Let's see if we can change that."

My uncle leaves his position by my father's side and proceeds to break three of my fingers, laughing at my screams, but never once do I cry. They don't deserve those tears. I'll lock them up tight where no one can find them.