𝐒𝐂𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄

23.𝑴𝒖𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒓

Our plan was pretty simple. First, convince Grandma to go to work so that the house would be unoccupied. She was surprised at first that I wanted her to leave the house because she had never been asked so directly to leave. Then she suddenly remembered she had to go to work and was glad I reminded her of it. Her leaving for work meant we had time until eight o'clock until she came back. I had no idea what we were about to do once we caught my father red-handed, but I trusted Rowan's, and Azra's plan.

Secondly, to get friendly with my 'father'. For him to see, I'm not hiding anything. It was easier to say than to do because I hated to see even for a mere second. I began to loathe him once I knew why he left my mother. My poor, foolish mother loved the guy without a soul. If I knew it was him the first time I saw him, I would spit into his face.

I don't care what happens to men like him. If the demons want to kill him, then so be it. I was done being good. I was done being weak. I'd kill him myself if I had to.

The demons stayed in the house, going through the attack plan. Rowan decided to come to work with me. He said he couldn't leave me alone with a monster, and I was glad for that. I needed a stable pillar to hold my back.

When the most important time came, I began to worry for Grandma. Her coming back home, seeing demons, Rowan as an angel, and my father trying to take my life. I had to focus on something else. I searched the crowd of strange people and their drinks when my eyes stopped on the honey-blond hair and wide smile. I only needed to see that for my nerves to calm down. For my pulse to slow down. It was like magic. I returned a smile to Rowan, who was calmly drinking his red wine. There was not a single worry on his face.

We had no reassurance that my father would come to the bar, but I felt it in my bones that he'd show up. And I was right. It was late evening when I caught sight of the entirely tattooed man, who wore a sleeveless black T-shirt and worn-out dark blue jeans.

He took a seat on the bar stool, staring at me. I met his gaze; his eyes were sharp and deep. Gray. I hated the fact that I had to call him my father because I didn't know his real name. The word father creates acid on my tongue.

"Beer?" I asked, my voice still.

"Bourbon." He replied instantly.

I wanted him to start the conversation first. To tell me by himself why he visited my house last night. I wanted him to confess.

"You know," I started, "when I lost my mother, I crumbled. I thought my life was over because I saw no positive reason to live. She was a strong woman once, and one inconvenience crashed her to the ground." I placed the Bourbon in front of him, meeting his eyes. "I will not get crushed by anything that comes my way. With one or two inconveniences, I will still stand straight."

His mouth curled into a half-smile. "That's truly inspiring; I just hope this great strength of yours will last till your last breath." He said, and his eyes narrowed.

"It will. I have amazing support from my Grandma and boyfriend." I said, smiling. It was the best lie I could come up with. He saw Keliah's hand wrapped around my waist last night.

"That was your boyfriend that I saw? A little too old for you, don't you think?" He chuckled and took a swallow of the bourbon.

"Well, he's a bit older than me. I choose wisely when it comes to men. He's a doctor, you know." I informed him. I tried to be less suspicious when it came to the things I said to him. So it wouldn't seem forged.

"He must be pretty busy then, isn't he?" He asked, pressing the glass against the bottom of his lip.

My lips went into a straight, tight line. That was pretty easy to do.