My Sister Broke a Bottle on Me at Her Wedding

me hard enough to bruise my ribs.

She knew I was alive.

Or she’d known once.

“Get her to the side room,” Peter said. “Now.”

My father stepped between us.

“Peter, you don’t understand what you’re looking at.”

“No,” Peter said. “I understand exactly what I’m looking at.”

His hand closed around the tag.

“Where is the rest of her team?”

I couldn’t answer. My mouth continue reading …