Arranged: An Array Series (Book #1)(2)

“May I give Ava her gift now?” Sam interjected, standing from the table.

Mrs. Reynolds studied him for a moment. “Right this minute, Samuel?” Sam nodded. “Very well.”

Before following Sam, I promised the children I’d be back shortly to tuck them into bed and tell them a story. When we were by ourselves and back on the rooftop, Sam pulled a small box out of his back pocket.

“You didn’t have to do this,” I told him.

Sam gave me a weak smile. “I wanted to.”

Taking the box from him, I opened it, finding a beautiful wooden “A” attached to a gold chain. Around the initial were four carved stars attached to the letter. “Each star is for each of my brothers and I.”

“Oh, Sam! I love it!” I exclaimed, reaching under my auburn hair to put it on.

He held up a finger. “One more thing.” Reaching over his shoulder, he pulled out a carved sword made entirely of pine. “I’ll get you a real one when you aren’t in danger of killing yourself,” he said, winking.

I threw my arms around him and squeezed. “How did you convince Micah to make me a sword my size?”

Sam shrugged his lanky shoulders and squeezed me back. “I didn’t. I just made it.”

I let out a small laugh. “Oh, he is going to kill you, Sam.”

Sam didn’t look worried. “He’ll get over it.”

“Ready to show me some more swings?” I asked.

Sam raised a brow. “Now?”

“Absolutely!”

He chuckled. “That’s why I gave it to you in the evening; so that you’d be too tired.”

A smile tugged at my lips. “I’m never tired.”

“Don’t know how you do it,” Sam said. “You make me tired just listening to you chastise me all the time.”

“You deserve it all the time. Please, Sam. Come on,” I pleaded.

Sam sighed. “We could practice some footing. That’s one of the most important things.”

“Charlie already showed me that,” I grumbled.

“He only showed you the basics. Now, if someone comes charging at you, then—”

“Isn’t it my birthday? Don’t I get to choose what I want to do today?”

He rolled his eyes. “All right, princess. Whatever you’d like to do.”

“Don’t call me that,” I hissed.

Sam rolled his eyes and stepped back, giving us some space. “Hold up the weapon and place a foot behind you, to give you balance.”

I did as he said, as he instructed me to start circling and to “watch your opponent’s eyes.” We practiced a few fictitious scenarios, and as I watched his gaze, it dropped to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, lowering my sword.

He shook his head and looked up at me. “Nothing.”

“Since when do we keep secrets?”

He glanced at me and scratched the back of his head. “Ben got a message yesterday…”

“And?” I asked, wielding my sword like the amateur I was.

“It was from your father.”

I froze, almost dropping my wooden weapon. “What did you say?”

Hope surged through me. He was going to tell me that I could come home; that I could leave here and go back to my friends. And just as fast as hope surged through me, a hint of fear set in. I hadn’t heard from Papa in over four years. Maybe something was wrong.

Sam approached, placing both his hands on my forearms. “It’s okay, A. He is safe,” he reassured, as if he could read my mind.

“What did he say?” I breathed. My heart pounded; this message could be the key to my fate.

“’Happy birthday, my sweet Ava.’” The tension left my body, tears of blended emotions beginning to fall.

“Don’t cry,” Sam murmured, bringing me into his arms, gently rubbing my back. “You aren’t allowed to cry on your birthday. This won’t last forever.” He rested his chin on my head. “You have me and my shitty brothers.”

I buried my face into his chest and wrapped my arms around him. “I guess that’ll have to do.”

Sam’s chuckle hummed throughout his body. “We’ve become very accustomed to your outlandish requests. Teaching you how to wield a sword, learning how to chew tobacco.”

I peered up from his shoulder. “That was just the one time. I wanted to know what the fuss was all about.”

Sam raised a brow. ”You just about gave Micah a stroke.”

“Micah needs to be more open-minded,” I countered.

“Sam!” Charles shouted in the darkness. Sam and I jolted, turning toward the stairs that led up to the roof. Charles met us in three steps, the moonlight striking his pudgy face, sweat beading on his forehead. “Get her out of here.”

“What happened?” Sam questioned.

“Someone got into the kitchen and killed two of the servants. They got one of the men,” he said grimly. “The sons of bitches. We got one of them, but we don’t know if there are any more lurking around. She needs to go.” Charlie grabbed my arm, and Sam followed suit. “Take her to the safe house. Do you remember where it is?”

Sam nodded. “How do we get her out?”