Their Warrior Soulmate: Finding A New Family

Chapter 1

Riley's POV~

To say my life was a mess would be an understatement. A mess was getting a flat tire on the way to school. A mess was forgetting about an assignment until the night before it was due. A mess was finding out your boyfriend—the person you thought actually cared about you—wasn't anything like the person he'd pretended to be when you first started dating.

My life? My life was something else entirely.

I stared down at the cutting board, watching the knife move through another potato. Slice. Move my fingers. Slice. Move. I'd learned a long time ago that keeping my hands busy helped when I needed to stop myself from thinking. And lately, there were a lot of things I didn't want to think about.

My now ex-boyfriend was one of them. The fading bruise around my wrist was another.

I tugged the sleeve of my sweater farther down. Don't. Not tonight. I had enough to worry about at home without thinking about him too.

I dropped the potatoes into the pot and glanced at the clock above the stove. Mom should have been home almost an hour ago. Dad was upstairs. Drinking. Of course.

Charles Montgomery was almost always drinking.

I stopped calling him Dad in my head a long time ago. I couldn't remember exactly when it happened. Somewhere between the first beating and everything that came afterward, I supposed. Out loud, though? Dad. Father. Whatever he wanted. Whatever kept him calm.

That was one of the first rules I'd learned in this house. Keep Charles happy. Don't talk back. Don't ask questions. Don't make too much noise. Don't make too little noise, because apparently that could piss him off too. Don't eat anything he'd decided was his. Don't touch his liquor. Don't look at him the wrong way. Don't—

The front door slammed.

I froze.

Mom.

A few seconds later, I heard her footsteps crossing the living room. Fast. Too fast. Then the stairs.

I set the knife down. Something was wrong.

Mom usually came into the kitchen first. Even when she was exhausted, she'd find me, kiss my forehead, and ask about school. Sometimes she'd smile. Sometimes she couldn't. But she always came to me first.

Tonight she went straight upstairs.

Then I heard her voice.

"I hate you, Charles!"

My entire body went still.

Mom didn't yell at him. Not like that. Not ever.

"You don't do anything for this family!" she shouted. "You sit here and drink away the money I work for, and then you punish us because you're miserable with yourself!"

A heavy thud sounded from upstairs. I flinched automatically, my fingers curling around the edge of the counter.

Go upstairs. Don't go upstairs. Help her. You'll make it worse.

I'd learned that lesson too. Sometimes trying to protect Mom only meant he hurt both of us.

"You think you're better than me because you have some little job?" Charles shouted.

"I think I'm done!"

Silence.

Even from downstairs, I felt those words. My heart slammed against my ribs.

What?

"I'm done, Charles. I'm leaving."

I forgot how to breathe.