SSA
Copyright© 2024 by TabooTalesIn
Chapter 4: The Tale of Three Sisters
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 4: The Tale of Three Sisters - President Alfred Walker did the unthinkable, he legalised incest.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa mt ft Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Romantic Fiction Cheating Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter Rough Group Sex Harem Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Lactation Pregnancy Safe Sex Big Breasts Public Sex
The marble floor was cold as ice under Grace’s bare feet. She’d been pacing for hours, the empty wine glass on the coffee table leaving a perfect, wet ring on the black marble. In her hand, her phone felt like a lead weight, its screen dark. She swiped it awake for what felt like the hundredth time.
1:00 AM.
“Damn it,” she whispered, the sound swallowed by the high ceilings of the penthouse. “Come on, Maya. Anything.”
Still nothing from her sister. And her dad’s phone went straight to voicemail.
Her mind kept playing the same terrible scene on a loop. The crunch of gravel as a black government van pulled up to her father’s quiet suburban house. The harsh slash of a flashlight beam cutting through the dark. The splintering crack of the front door being kicked in. She could see the faces of the Zealous Officers, blank and fanatical, their eyes empty as they dragged Maya out, sobbing, her nightgown torn. She saw her dad, yelling, trying to shield her, only to be thrown against the wall like a ragdoll, the sickening, dull thud of his head hitting the drywall.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the images away. “Get a grip, Grace,” she told herself, her voice a harsh whisper. “Think.”
The logical part of her brain knew that probably wasn’t what was happening. For all their brutality, the Officers were still a bureaucracy. Arrests were public record within minutes. As immediate family, she’d get an official notification. It was their own special brand of cruelty a formal notice designed to make sure the fear spread as wide as possible.
“So if they’re not arrested,” she said to the empty room, “where the hell are they?”
A car crash? An accident? The thought felt childish, a fear from the old world. This wasn’t the old world. Here, the real dangers weren’t random. They were planned.
Grace finally stopped pacing and pressed her forehead against the cold glass of the floor-to-ceiling window. The city lights glittered below, a million tiny, indifferent diamonds.
“Did she do it?” she murmured, her breath fogging the pane.
Did Maya just go through with “Dad’s way out”? The cold, clinical “proof” the regime demanded the pill, the dildo, performing that humiliating act to fake compliance, and then simply falling asleep with her phone on silent? It was possible. A cold, sad possibility.
Or ... was it something else?
Her stomach twisted into a painful knot. Dad had been so lonely since Mom died, a ghost haunting his own house. And Maya was so young, so full of life. The thought was poison, but it slithered into her mind anyway. Had the whole sick charade finally just ... broken? Had her grieving father turned to his own daughter for the comfort he couldn’t find anywhere else?
“Don’t you dare,” she hissed at her faint reflection in the glass.
She wanted Maya to be safe. God, she wanted her to be free. But the dark, quiet part of her that lay awake every night couldn’t help but wonder ... what if she had been the one to refuse this life, to refuse Todd, to fulfill the promise she’d made to her mother and become her father’s wife?
“Stop it,” she whispered again, pushing away from the glass. “You’re going crazy.”
The worry was a physical knot in her stomach. She needed something. A human voice. A touch that wasn’t the start of a transaction. A fight. A distraction. Anything to feel something other than this suffocating dread.
She knew she wouldn’t find comfort in her own bedroom, but the silence was becoming unbearable. Exhausted, she finally gave up. With a heavy sigh, she turned and walked down the long, empty hallway toward the master bedroom.
And there he was. Todd. Propped against a mountain of pillows, his face lit by the ghoulish blue light of his phone. His thumb was moving in that quick, practiced swipe she knew so well. A smug little smirk played on his lips.
She didn’t have to ask. She knew that app. Rendezvous. The encrypted hookup site for their “community.”
He’s shopping, she thought. While I’m losing my mind with worry, he’s scrolling through profiles, lining up our next ‘playdate.’ That knot of ice in her stomach didn’t just harden it shattered into a million tiny shards of white-hot rage.
“Todd,” she said, her voice sharp and cold.
He jumped, fumbling the phone. With a panicked flick of his thumb, he locked the screen and tossed it on the nightstand like it was a hot coal. He sat up straighter, the sheet pooling at his waist. His body was lean and toned, but to her, he just looked weak.
“What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, his voice a smooth, practiced lie.
“‘Us,’ Todd,” Grace said, the frustration she’d swallowed for years finally boiling over. “Let’s talk about the fact that there is no us.”
Oh, shit, he thought, his mind racing. This is it. The talk. He’d always known it was coming, but he figured he could charm his way out of it. He loved the lifestyle, and Grace was his golden ticket. Her classic beauty and untouchable air made them the ultimate prize. The thought of losing that sent a wave of pure panic through him.
“Babe, what are you so upset about?” he asked, his voice dripping with fake concern. He slid to the edge of the bed and reached for her.
Grace recoiled as if she’d been burned. “Upset?” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “You’re asking me why I’m upset? My sister could be in a re-education camp, my father could be arrested, and you’re in here, swiping through profiles to see which whore you get to fuck next!”
She took a step closer, her voice rising. “I’m upset because there is no us, Todd! There is only you, and me the shiny bait you dangle to get what you want! This isn’t a marriage! It isn’t a life! It’s a goddamn business transaction!”
Todd was stunned into silence. Okay, plan B, he thought, scrambling. He shifted into his most condescending voice. “Come on, Grace, let’s not be dramatic,” he said, running a hand through his perfect hair. “You’re just stressed about your sister. I get it. But this is just an experience. It’s what enlightened couples do. We’re exploring before we settle down and have kids.” He gave her a self-satisfied smile, as if he were giving her a gift. “And don’t pretend you haven’t enjoyed parts of it. You have freedom. You have pleasure. You have me.”
Grace just stared at him. The fire didn’t just die; it was snuffed out, leaving behind a cold, desolate clarity. Oh my God, she thought. He actually believes that. He thought the hollow, anonymous nights were a gift. He thought the feel of a stranger’s sweaty hands on her skin, the performative moans she faked just to get it over with ... he thought that was liberation.
The fight just drained out of her. She was too tired to argue with a man who lived in another reality. She pushed past him, her shoulder brushing his with a coldness that said everything, and walked to her side of the bed. She didn’t get under the covers. She just collapsed on top of them, curling onto her side, facing away from him.
This broken marriage wasn’t the cause of her misery; it was the result of a choice she’d made years ago. To take the easy way out. The safe way. She had traded her soul for security.
Her mind flashed to her parents’ kitchen, the afternoon sun streaming in. Her dad coming up behind her mom as she did dishes, wrapping his arms around her waist just to breathe her in. The private smile on her mother’s face as she leaned back into him, her hands still soapy. Their love had been a real thing, a warmth that filled their entire house.
And I settled for this, she thought, the silk sheets cold against her skin. This empty penthouse and a man who thinks love is a commodity.
She remembered the banker, Richard. Soft, damp hands and breath that smelled of scotch. Lying right here, in this bed, feeling his weight, hearing his grunts ... and feeling nothing. A terrifying, hollow void. Todd had loved it, watching from the armchair, his excitement not for her pleasure, but for the power of owning something beautiful that other men wanted.
I let him do this, she thought, the self blame sharp and merciless. I signed up for this.
A quiet, absolute vow formed in her mind.
No more.
The first hint of gray was just beginning to lighten the sky when Grace slipped out of bed, she pulled on a pair of soft jeans and a simple sweater armor for the day ahead. She didn’t look at Todd. She didn’t even glance at her own reflection. She just grabbed her keys and her purse and left. The city was still waking up as she drove, the streets populated by delivery trucks, sanitation workers, and lone joggers a world operating on a normal rhythm, blissfully unaware that Grace’s own world had fractured. She turned onto her dad’s quiet, tree lined street, a wave of nostalgia so sharp and painful it almost made her gasp. This was her sanctuary, the one place on earth she had always felt completely and totally safe.
She parked at the curb and walked up the familiar flagstone path. The morning air was cool and smelled of damp earth and the blooming jasmine from the neighbor’s yard. It smelled like home. she raised her hand rang the doorbell.
A long moment passed, long enough for her to almost turn and leave. Finally, the door creaked open. It was, William, and the sight of him made Grace’s heart ache. He looked like he’d been through a war his face was pale and puffy, with dark, bruised looking circles under his eyes. He wore a rumpled gray t-shirt and pajama pants, and his hair was sticking up at odd angles.
Their eyes met for a split second. In that single moment, Grace saw a guilt, shame, he looked away, his gaze dropping to the welcome mat like he couldn’t bear to face her.
“Gracie,” he said, his voice a dry, hoarse croak.
“Dad,” she replied, her own voice tight, strained. “I’ve been calling all night. Is everyone okay? I was sick with worry.”
“Sorry,” he stammered, still not meeting her eyes as he stepped back to let her in. “We were ... tired. We must have slept through the calls. It was a long night.”
Grace walked into the house, the familiar scent of old books and her father’s sandalwood soap wrapping around her. But underneath it, there was another scent. Faint, but unmistakable. Musky, primal, and deeply intimate. The scent of sex. It hit her like a physical blow, confirming her worst fears and her darkest, most secret curiosities. The knot in her stomach pulled tighter, threatening to cut off her breath.
“Where’s Maya?” she asked, her voice carefully neutral, fighting to keep it from shaking.
“In her room,” he mumbled, turning away, busying himself with straightening an already neat stack of mail on the hall table. “Still sleeping, I think.”
The door to Maya’s bedroom, her old childhood bedroom was slightly ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside. The scent was stronger in here, thick and cloying in the warm, still air. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the drawn curtains, the breath left her lungs in a silent whoosh.
The room was a battlefield of passion. Clothes were strewn on the floor like casualties Maya’s pink sundress from the restaurant, a pair of her father’s gray boxers, her delicate lace panties. The sheets on the bed were a tangled, chaotic mess. And in the middle of it all, lay Maya.
She was fast asleep, lying on her stomach, completely naked, the white sheet pooled around her waist. Her dark hair was fanned out on the pillow, a wild, tangled halo. A dark, purplish hickey, the size of a quarter, bloomed on the delicate curve of her neck. Another marked her shoulder blade. Faint, reddish lines, down her back. It was the undeniable, irrefutable evidence of a wild, passionate, and anything but gentle night of sex.
Oh, my God. She did it.
She really did it, the thought repeated, no longer a question but a statement of fact. She did what I couldn’t do. What Kate couldn’t do. My brave, reckless, baby sister ... she went through with it. The knot of fear in her stomach dissolved, replaced by a bewildering storm of other feelings. A sharp, ugly pang of jealousy that tasted like metal. A wave of awe at her sister’s audacity.
Maya stirred. She rolled over onto her back, her naked body moving with a slow, languid grace. Her eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, and they locked with Grace’s.
For a moment, there was just silence. Then, a slow, deep blush crept up Maya’s neck, suffusing her face. She looked down at her own nakedness, at the tangled sheets, and a sudden shyness, a post coital modesty, overcame her. She scrambled to pull the sheet up to her chin, her movements clumsy, her eyes wide.
Grace walked slowly into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Maya, what happened?” she asked, her voice soft but firm. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
Maya bit her lip, her blush deepening. She looked away, then took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. When she looked back at Grace, the shyness was gone, replaced by a strange, new confidence. A womanly confidence.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” she began, her voice a little hoarse. “Things ... things got intense.”
And then, it all came tumbling out. Maya recounted the events of the previous night, her voice a mixture of breathless excitement and triumphant pride. She told Grace about the confrontation, about how she had threatened William with the SSA act, cornering him, leaving him with no choice. She described his defeated resignation, the look in his eyes when he’d finally agreed.
Grace’s eyes went wide. She sat there on the edge of the bed, listening, her mind struggling to process the information. My God, she thought, the words a silent scream in her head. My sweet, innocent baby sister ... she cornered him. She threatened him, threatened to expose their secret. A part of her was appalled, horrified at the cold, calculated manipulation. But another, darker part that she was ashamed of was utterly floored by her audacity. Where did she even learn to be so ruthless?
“ ... and after the first time, we just ... collapsed,” Maya continued, her voice dropping to a dreamy, breathless whisper. Her eyes were unfocused, looking right past Grace, replaying the movie in her head. “We fell asleep all tangled up. I don’t even remember him pulling the covers over us. I was just ... so exhausted.” She looked at Grace then, and her eyes were clear and deep. “So ... complete.” She said the word like it was a sacred prayer, the answer to a question she hadn’t even known she was asking. “I slept like the dead. But then...”
“I woke up,” Maya said, her voice dropping even lower, becoming almost conspiratorial, as if she were letting Grace in on the most wonderful secret in the world. “It must have been around two in the morning. I felt a ... warm, wet, flickering sensation.” Maya murmured. “For a second, I didn’t know what was happening. It was just this ... this incredible pleasure, pulling me out of a dream. It felt so good, I almost wanted to stay asleep and just let it happen.” Her blush returned for a moment, a faint pink against her cheeks. “But I had to know. I opened my eyes ... and he was there.”
“Daddy was kneeling between my legs, his head buried between my thighs,” she whispered, her voice full of a kind of triumphant reverence. “And he was ... he was licking me. Waking me up with his tongue.”
[Flashback]
Soft moonlight spilled through the window, tracing the shape of Maya’s body under the thin sheet. William lay on his side, just watching her breathe. Her face, so peaceful in sleep, was a perfect, heartbreaking mix of the little girl he’d raised and the woman she was fast becoming.
Sleep was impossible for him. His mind was a wreck a storm of guilt, shock, and a deep, aching need that felt like it was settling into his bones. He’d crossed a line he never thought existed. He had taken his daughter’s virginity. And, God help him, it had been the most incredible, earth-shattering moment of his life.
The memory was burned into him. He could still feel it how tight she was, stretching to take him for the first time. He could still hear her small cries, a raw sound of pain melting into pure bliss. He could feel her body clenching around him as he’d lost control and poured himself into her. He’d told himself it was just a one-time thing. A twisted ceremony to keep her happy, to protect his other daughters from her manipulations. But lying here, watching the moonlight on her skin, he knew that was a lie. He was completely, hopelessly lost.
His eyes fell on the faint marks his passion had left on her skin, the dark love bite on the curve of her neck. A fierce, primal wave of possession washed over him. Mine.
He couldn’t stop himself. The urge to touch her again, to taste her, wasn’t just a thought—it was a physical compulsion. Moving slowly, silently, he tried not to wake her. He slid down the bed, his eyes locked on the soft, dark curls between her thighs. The air was thick with the scent of them, a musky, sweet perfume that was intoxicating.
Gently, he parted her legs. In the pale light, he could see she was still swollen and rosy from before, the delicate lips glistening. He leaned in, his breath warm on her sensitive skin. He started with a soft kiss on her inner thigh, then another, slowly working his way up. She stirred in her sleep, a soft sigh escaping her lips as her hips gave a small, unconscious tilt toward him.
That was all the encouragement he needed. He moved to her center, pressing his face into her curls, breathing her in like a man who was drowning. Then, his tongue flicked out.
He found the small, perfect pearl of her clit and began to lick—not with the frantic energy of before, but with a slow, deliberate, almost worshipful rhythm. He licked and lapped, his tongue circling and tasting the salty-sweet flavor of his daughter. He was mapping her, learning every inch, committing her to memory.
She began to wake up, not with a jolt, but like a flower unfurling. Her back arched, her hips lifting off the mattress to press herself more firmly against his mouth. A low, sleepy, impossibly sexy moan rumbled in her throat.
“Daddy...?” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and new arousal.
“Shh, baby,” he murmured against her slick folds. “Go back to sleep. Daddy’s just ... hungry.”
His deep voice, combined with the magic his tongue was working, sent a jolt of pure pleasure through her. Her eyes fluttered open, dark and dazed. She looked down and saw his head between her legs, his dark hair a stark contrast to her pale thighs. A wave of power and pleasure so intense it made her dizzy washed over her.
He felt the moment she became fully aware, the subtle shift in her body as she gave in to the feeling. He increased the pressure, his tongue becoming more insistent. He slid two fingers inside her, finding her slick and hot, her inner walls clenching tightly. He found her G-spot, that sensitive ridge of flesh, and began stroking it in time with the flicks of his tongue.
Maya cried out, her hands flying to his head. Her fingers tangled in his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, to guide him. “Oh, God, Daddy ... fuck ... that feels so good...”
The combination was devastating. He was attacking her from two sides, a relentless assault of pleasure that was pushing her right to the edge. Her hips began to buck, her movements no longer sleepy but urgent and desperate.
“I’m going to come, Daddy,” she panted, her voice raw and ragged. “I’m so close...”
“I know you are, baby,” he whispered. He focused all his attention on her clit, sucking the hard little nub into his mouth, his tongue working a merciless rhythm.
Her orgasm hit her like a lightning strike. Her body went rigid, her back bowing off the bed as a long, shuddering convulsion seized her. He held her hips firmly, keeping his mouth on her, tasting her release as she flooded his mouth.
When the last tremor faded, she lay limp and panting. He slid up her body, his face still wet with her, and kissed her deeply. She tasted herself on his lips, the ultimate act of possession.
“Did you like that, baby?” he whispered, his own voice thick with arousal.
“I loved it, Daddy,” she breathed. “Now ... now I want you inside me. Please.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. He moved between her thighs, his cock already painfully hard and slick. He looked down at his beautiful, debauched daughter, her legs spread wide, her pussy swollen and waiting for him. In that moment, he felt no guilt. Only a fierce, all-consuming love and a lust so powerful it felt like a force of nature.
He entered her slowly, savoring the feeling of her hot, tight sheath closing around him. She moaned, a sound of pure, welcoming pleasure.
“Oh, Daddy ... you feel so good inside me...”
He began to move, his thrusts deep and steady. This wasn’t like the first time, which had been a frantic, messy discovery. This was a claiming. A confirmation. Every push was a statement: You’re mine. You belong to me.
Propping himself on his elbows, he watched her face as he fucked her. Her eyes were half-closed, her lips parted. He reached down and cupped her breasts, stroking her hardened nipples with his thumbs. She cried out, her insides clenching around him.
“Oh, fuck, Daddy, yes!” she screamed, her hips rising to meet his every thrust in a perfect, primal rhythm. “Fuck me! Fuck your daughter! Make me yours!”
Her filthy words shattered the last of his control. His thrusts became punishing, slamming into her with a force that made the bed frame knock against the wall. He was a man possessed, driven by years of repressed desire and a shocking, profound love for the woman beneath him.
He felt his own orgasm building, a roaring fire in his gut. He drove into her, faster, deeper. “I’m coming, Maya!” he roared, his voice raw. “I’m going to fill you up!”
“Yes, Daddy, please!” she sobbed, her own climax building again. “Give me your cum! Fill my pussy with your babies!”
The word babies was the final trigger. With a guttural, animalistic cry, he came apart inside her, his hot seed flooding her womb in a torrent. Her own orgasm crashed over her at the same moment, her body convulsing violently around his, milking every last drop from him.
He collapsed on top of her, completely spent, his heart hammering against hers. They lay like that for a long time, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths mingling in the quiet, moonlit room. He was truly, completely damned. And he had never felt so alive.
[End Flashback]
Grace sat frozen on the edge of the bed, her own body a complete traitor. As Maya’s breathless story unfolded, a hot flush crawled up Grace’s neck and spread down through her chest. A heavy, wet heat pooled low in her belly, and she shifted uncomfortably, horrified to realize her panties were suddenly damp. The images Maya’s words painted were so vivid it was like being a ghost in the room, watching the whole thing happen in the moonlight.
The jealousy was a sharp, bitter clawing in her chest. It wasn’t just about the sex. It was about the passion. The raw, untamed need. The way their father had looked at her, touched her, claimed her. It was a language of desire her own husband, Todd, had never learned to speak, a depth of connection she’d only ever dreamed about. Maya hadn’t just gotten what she wanted; she had taken what Grace had been too afraid to even ask for.
“ ... and he just made love to me until the sun came up,” Maya finished, her voice a soft, contented whisper. She looked like a woman who had finally found her place in the world. “He said he’s accepted it. That I’m the only woman for him now.”
She paused, her green eyes now full of a strange, new wisdom locking onto Grace’s. The look was steady, assessing, and full of a confidence that was deeply unsettling.
“But I told him I’m willing to make an exception,” Maya said, her voice calm and even. “For you. And for Kate.” She reached out and took Grace’s hand, her grip surprisingly firm. “I meant it, Grace. I’m willing to share.”
A shaky, almost hysterical smile touched Grace’s lips. It was the most tempting, terrifying thing she had ever heard. She couldn’t find the words to respond. Instead, she just surged forward and hugged her sister, pulling Maya’s warm, naked body tight against her own. She could feel the faint, rapid beat of Maya’s heart and smell the lingering scent of their father on her skin.
“I’m ... I’m happy for you, Maya,” Grace whispered into her sister’s tangled hair, and she was horrified to realize that on some deep, twisted level, she meant it. She was happy that someone in their broken family had found the courage to smash the cage and just take what they needed.
Grace found him in the kitchen. He was standing at the counter with his back to her, staring out the window into the overgrown backyard. A white coffee mug was cradled in his hands. He didn’t turn when she came in, but the air around him was thick with the same musky scent from the bedroom.
She walked up and stood beside him, her reflection appearing next to his in the glass. “I’m not here to judge you, Dad,” she said softly. “You did what you thought was best for Maya.” The lie felt thick and strange on her tongue.
He finally turned to look at her, and his eyes were full of a raw, unbearable sadness that went far beyond last night. “Was it, Gracie? Or did I just finally let the monster out of its cage?”
He reached out, his large, warm hands cupping her face, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. It was such a familiar, fatherly gesture that it almost broke her. “What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, his voice full of a genuine, heartbreaking concern. “There’s a sadness in your eyes I haven’t seen since your mother passed.”
His perception, his care it was everything she’d been starving for. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back, forcing a bright, brittle smile. “It’s nothing, Daddy. Really. I’m fine. Just tired.”
He knew it was a lie. He looked right through her, into the hollow space in her soul. “Stay,” he said, his voice a quiet plea. “Please. Let me make you some coffee. We can talk.”
The offer was so tempting it hurt. To stay here, in this house that now pulsed with a forbidden, electric energy but was still, somehow, home. To let him take care of her. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She had to go back to her own life, to the cage she had built for herself, and figure out how to take it apart, stone by stone.
“I can’t,” she said, gently pulling away from his touch, a touch she already missed. “I have to go.”
A moment after the front door clicked shut, Maya padded into the kitchen. She was wearing one of her father’s old university t-shirts that came down to her mid-thighs, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. She looked young and soft, but her eyes held that new, knowing light. She came up behind William and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing a soft kiss to his back.
“She knows,” Maya said. It wasn’t a question.
“I know,” William replied, his voice heavy.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, sensing the tension in his shoulders.
He turned in her arms to face her, his brow furrowed. “It’s Gracie,” he said. “There’s such a deep sadness in her. Something is terribly wrong.”
Maya’s expression hardened, her soft features turning to stone. “She’s unhappy in her marriage,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “Todd ... he’s into swinging.”
William just stared at her, confused. The word didn’t even register. “Swinging? What are you talking about? Like ... keys in a bowl?”
“It’s worse than that,” Maya said, her voice taking on a hard, angry edge. “He takes her to parties, to clubs. He uses her. Her beauty attracts other couples, and he ... he trades her.” She saw the lack of understanding in his eyes and made it brutally clear. “He gets off on watching other men have sex with her, Dad.”
The color drained from William’s face, replaced by a dark, mottled red of pure rage. His hands, still holding the coffee mug, clenched so tightly the porcelain groaned under the pressure. The image of his Grace, his beautiful, elegant daughter, being passed around by strangers while her husband watched ... it was a violation so profound it made him feel sick. A primal, protective fury surged through him.
“I’m going to kill that bastard,” he growled, the voice that came out of him low and dangerous, a sound Maya had never heard before. He put the mug down on the counter with a sharp crack and started for the door. “I am going to beat that son of a bitch to within an inch of his life.”
But Maya grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “No, Dad, stop!” she said, her voice sharp. “Violence won’t help her!”
“He’s hurting her, Maya!” he roared, his face twisted with pain.
“I know!” she shot back, not flinching. “But you can’t just go over there and beat him up. She’s a grown woman. She chose this life, on some level. Beating up Todd won’t fix the real problem. It won’t fix the hole in her heart.”