Chapter 3

3

I watched them like a hawk all night. The next morning, as soon as the sun rose, they headed straight for the underground casino.

They lived at those tables. They only came home when they were broke and looking for someone to kick. I wondered why people like them were allowed to have children at all.

I had no leads, so I followed them. I hoped to hear something in the smoke-filled den of losers and addicts.

The place was a nightmare of flashing lights and desperation. Everyone looked like they were one bad hand away from jumping off a bridge. None of these lowlifes looked like they had thirty thousand dollars to spend on a ritual.

I started asking questions, trying to be subtle. Just as I thought I was getting somewhere, a hand gripped the back of my neck. I was hoisted into the air.

"What the hell are you doing here?" My father's face was red with fury. "No wonder I'm losing. You brought your bad luck into this place!"

I struggled, but he was too strong. A few regulars started laughing and egging him on.

"Hey Artie, this kid's been asking everyone what happened to Sunny. You better handle your business," one man shouted.

My father's grip tightened. I could barely breathe as he dragged me toward the exit.

"I told you she fell!" he hissed into my ear. "Are you trying to make me look bad? Are you trying to ruin me?"

I managed to choke out the words. "You sold her... you sold Sunny!"

He dropped me like I was made of hot lead. His eyes darted around the room, full of panic. "Shut your mouth! You don't know what you're talking about!"

He turned to the crowd, trying to act tough. "Get lost, all of you! Mind your own damn business!"

He kicked me twice in the ribs, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "If I hear another word about this, I'll make sure you never speak again."

Someone called his name from the blackjack table. He checked his watch and pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his pocket. He tossed it to a greasy-looking security guard.

"My daughter's being a brat. Do me a favor and teach her a lesson. I'm in a hurry."

"You got it, boss," the guard grinned.

I was dragged out into the alley. Three men surrounded me, kicking and punching while throwing insults. They didn't even care about my father―they just wanted to hurt someone.

"Look at this prick," one guard spat. "Giving us a hundred bucks like we're beggars. Selling his own kid to the forest cult... I'm a scumbag, but even I wouldn't do that."

The words hit me harder than their boots. The forest cult. The Back Hill.

I lay in the dirt, my vision swimming. My father had paid strangers to beat his own child. He was less than a dog. But now, I had a destination.