MY TABOO STEP DADDY
The ship is enormous—a cargo vessel that's probably fifty years old and worth nothing to anyone except criminals who need a place to hide bodies and conduct business that the government doesn't want to know about.
The deck is slick with something that might be blood or might be seawater, and the smell hits me like a physical blow.
And there, at the edge of the ship, Yosef stands with a knife pressed against Carlton's throat.
My Bunny's eyes meet mine, and they're swimming with tears.
His body is shaking, and I can see the bruises on his wrists where someone has tied him, the redness around his eyes that suggests he's been crying for a very long time. But he's alive. He's here. He's real.