Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Chemistry.
Now, behind the walls of our compound, we live in this castle with priceless artwork and abundant food. With Katya and me, our father is still the man we knew, loving, nurturing, smart and kind. But outside of this house, his heart is black and his ambition and ruthlessness know no limits.
A shiver shakes my shoulders as Katya stares at the chessboard, her bright blue dress in contrast to my dark jeans, tactical boots, thermal shirt, and the knife on my hip. The parts of the country the government deemed ‘recoverable’ go on almost as though nothing happened, while here, in the occupied land—and worse, where we live in the badlands—it feels like we’ve been transported back to medieval times.
Law is scarce and corrupt in a way I never understood as a child. The Judicial Enforcement, the law enforcement in the occupied territory, is more a bunch of sanctioned mafiosi with badges and blue military uniforms. My father’s operation functions under their unspoken governance. They provide little protection from orcs and invaders but are sure to take their slice of the profits at every opportunity.
I hate them, but in this indifferent, detached sort of way. The orcs are another story. They are the reason we are motherless, and the reason I barely sleep.
When things calmed down after the first battles and chaos, I thought life would go back to some semblance of normalcy. Wrong.
Division and hate from both sides sent the country into a turmoil that was tensely resolved by sectioning off the United States into areas where orcs would occupy most of the designated territory. They do not like heat and sunshine. So, the upper northwest has been cordoned off as sort of an ‘every-man-for-himself’ area since it was less populated and less powerful than the states in the northeast. And, much to our surprise, it is where my father turned drug king pin dug in and established himself as a new dictator in our compound just south of Glenrose.
In this new normal, I learned what true strength is. How to leave fear behind. I learned to fight and that I was good at it. The archery lessons my mother insisted I take at the age of twelve paid off. I practice three hours a day now and can shoot a grape off a fence post at thirty paces.
“Check,” Katya says, smiling. Her left cheek dents with a deep dimple. She turned thirteen last week, a teenager, and we had a party here at the mansion with just Dad, Katya, me and her bodyguards, Dimi and Roger, as well as her tutors and the nannies she insists she no longer needs. “You walked right into that. You’re not paying attention.”
I saw her move coming, but I need to get things done today and I’m so tired. Sleep is a challenge but last night, the nightmares were relentless. After the second one, I gave up and went to my desk, organizing and reading so I’ve had an hour or so of sleep and I’m dragging. We have a huge shipment of smikkaan being picked up tomorrow by a new clan from the east and it’s making me edgy.
“Yes, just didn’t sleep well.” I catch sight of a blue jay settling on a branch outside the window as a knock on the bedroom door draws our attention.
“Girls.” My father pokes his head through the opening. His deep blue eyes are tired, like mine I’m sure. “Everyone okay in here? The battle rages on the board still, I see.”
“Hi, Papa.” Katya’s face brightens.
She doesn’t know the truth or details of the person my father has become, nor what it is we do here that allows us to live in luxury behind our stone walls while much of the occupied territory is in ruin. She believes my father manufactures specialized, and top secret, fertilizers for the government. It’s flimsy, but so far, she hasn’t questioned his cover story.
“I have Aleena in check,” she quips, poking her tongue out at me.
“Ah, very good.” He approaches, wearing his signature khakis and blue button-down Oxford shirt. “You can finish her off later.” He winks at me then rubs Katya’s head, messing her smooth blonde hair. “I need your sister for some work.”
Katya twists her lips on a pout as Marjory, her Latin and Philosophy tutor, follows my father into the room. “I want to go to work,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Latin sucks.”
“You do your lessons. That’s your job,” Father says, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
She makes a hrumphing sound as I push back from the table, looking around at her bedroom. It’s as neat as a pin thanks to the five maids we employ. Between them, they keep this mini-Versailles immaculately clean, according to my father’s detailed and merciless instructions.
A year or so ago, there was one maid, Rebecca, that left a toilet brush laying on the floor next to the commode in Katya’s bathroom. A few days later, I found her bloody uniform, name tag still in place, in the dumpster behind the warehouse.