“Must I remind you every time to hand over your salary?”

After a twelve-hour shift, my legs were numb, my lower back throbbed, and I was in no mood to argue.

I dug out the cash from my threadbare purse and placed the envelope in my stepmother’s hand. She counted the money with a sneer.

“Not complete.”

I shifted my weight from one aching leg to the other. “It is.”

She grabbed my arm and twisted it until I screamed. “Don’t mess with me! Where are you hiding the tips?”

She reached for my shirt, and I twisted away.

I fought hard to keep her hands off me, exhaustion and hunger forgotten. I’d spent the past year saving to leave this dead town, only to watch my stepmother take most of my earnings while my father looked away like he was doing now.

“Wicked, wicked girl.” She wrenched a bulkier envelope from the shorts under my skirt. I grabbed her arm, but she shrugged me off, and I landed on my butt.

“Cut it out, we need to talk.” My father finally spoke up.

I scrambled on my hands and knees, and clutched her leg. “Give it back. I worked hard for those tips.”

I’d managed to keep the tips from her these past months. I couldn’t let her have this one now.

She reached down and slapped me hard enough to knock my head sideways.

“You own nothing. Do you know how much it cost us to raise you to adulthood? The least you can do is contribute towards the household expenses now.”

“I said cut it out,” my father barked. She jumped, and I turned to see he was not drunk today. “You women have managed to ruin my good mood.”

Silence settled in our shabby living room, and then he said, “I received a grant to reopen the warehouse. I settled our debts with the bank today.”

“What?” My stepmother’s voice echoed my surprise. I stared hard at my father. He looked sober. This was not a drunken boast.

Before my mother died, my father owned the biggest warehouses that served the ranchers and farmers in our town, and our house was in better shape.

By the time I turned fifteen, he’d drunk every last penny away.

No one in their right mind would award him a business grant now.

His smile widened as he enjoyed our surprise. “Yes. We got the house back.”

His gaze traveled across our living room with its worn couches and old electronics, and his smile faded.

I pushed away from the floor, wondering how to recover some of my money when his next word made me freeze.

“We have to fix this place up before Lana’s wedding. I found you a very good match with the Ramos family.”

His wife gasped beside him. “Why would the Ramos want a girl like Lana?” She looked genuinely confused as my father chuckled.

“She’s a lucky girl.”

“Lucky?” I croaked, finding my voice at last. “I’ll not marry that Devil Sheriff.”

The young sheriff, as Elian Ramos was often called, was an outright psychopath. He was the younger brother to the wealthiest rancher in our county, and incredibly good-looking.

But his merits ended there.

In the past few years, three women had broken off their engagements with him. The first two disappeared mysteriously, and the third barely made it out of town alive.

She spread the news of his cruelty, and women started to move away the moment he wooed them.

“Lana,” my father called, looking genuinely hurt. “I could never make you marry Elian. You’re getting married to Carlos Ramos.”

The room seemed to shrink around me and my defiance evaporated. I stumbled forward, my hands trembling as I clutched my father’s. “No.”

He frowned.

“Please no. I’ll marry the young Sheriff if you want me to. Don’t sell me out to that man.”

Carlos Ramos was the only man wealthy and devious enough to invest in an alcoholic’s business.

“Ungrateful wench.” My father shoved me away and cursed the whole way as he stomped out of the room. My stepmother followed closely behind, her mocking laughter echoing through the house.

My legs gave out finally, and I crumbled on our creaky couch. I cried silently till my head ached and my eyes burned.

When the sky turned dark outside, I wiped my face and sat up slowly. I’d get out of this town tonight or die trying. That evil old man was free to marry my corpse then.

I ran up to my room and waited till I heard the front door open and close again.

My stepmother had never been able to resist a shopping trip with her friends whenever I got paid, so she wouldn’t be back for a few hours.

I took some cash from my thin savings, bought a good bottle of scotch from the nearest store and went up to my father’s bedroom.

He accepted my peace offering.

I sat at his feet and served him glass after glass as he reassured me that age was just a number, and I’d enjoy my marriage to Carlos Ramos.

Once he passed out cold, I ransacked the room, gathering every last dollar I found. It was all mine. He and his vicious wife hadn’t worked in years.

An hour later, my bus passed the last buildings of our small town. I sank into my seat, taking my first real breath.

This wasn’t how I planned to leave. I’d made enough money to cover rent and groceries for one year while I pursued acting gigs in Hollywood.

Now, I’d have to spend an extra year or two waiting tables in LA before I could afford to chase that dream. Still, it was a fair price for freedom.

The bus stopped at a police checkpoint, and a cop approached our driver.

Minutes dragged by before he stepped onto our bus, and my skin prickled with unease.

He kept glancing at his phone as he walked down the aisle.

I’d just brought my bag close, eyeing the open window beside me, when his leather boots stopped in front of me.

He checked his phone one more time, then stared at me for a long minute.

“Svetlana Cosma. Come with me.”