"You will not be a soft, weak girl!" Her father hissed at her, dragging her by the hair to a room she hadn't seen in months.

"Let me show you what happens to little girls who accept gifts. What happens when you show your emotions."

"Michael! Please!" Her mother sobbed and pleaded. “It was me! I gave it to her, take it out on me!"

"Oh, don't you worry." Her father growled menacingly, releasing her hair to address his wife. “I will be doing that."

Sam tried desperately to halt the tears running down her face because crying always made it so much worse. She didn't speak, didn't make a sound. She'd learned by now that asking, begging, pleading, saying you were sorry, were all the things that made her father's already cruel punishments ratchet up a notch.

Her father turned back to her and said in a clipped tone, "Samantha. Come with me."

She followed quickly and quietly into the room and stood, eyes forward, waiting for his command. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she reminded herself that she could endure anything he could dish out. A week was seven days, a day was twenty-four hours, an hour was sixty minutes, and a minute was sixty seconds. She could get through anything if she just remembered the second would end, the minute would end, the hour would end, the day would end, and the week would end. At one of those end-points, her punishment would end as well. She was more than capable of making it to the end.

"Samantha." Michael's voice was low, laced with venom. "What did you say about this puppy?"

Michael held the puppy her mother had given her only hours before, stroking its head, scratching its ears. She kept her eyes straight forward, fixed on the wall in front of her.

“I said I lu... I loved it sir.” She didn't make a sound as the back of his hand connected with her cheek.

"What have I told you about saying that word?"

"Love is for the weak and vulnerable.” She recited. “Love is an unnecessary and avoidable risk. Love brings down giants. I have no room for love. I do not love anything or anyone."

"That's right." He sneered. "Just to make sure you fully understand the error of your thoughts. You will be the one to destroy this thing you claimed to love."

Her eyes flew to his.

No.

"Mr. Covington..." because he was never dad, daddy, or father, he was always Mr. Covington to her.

"Either you will do it without argument, Samantha. Or I will do it and you will watch. If I do it," he added with a sinister look. “It will not be quick and you will want to beg for this poor soul, but, there are no second chances. This is my first and last offer. Your last chance to decide the fate of this poor, cute little animal."

"I'll do it.” She said quickly. She was sick at the thought, but what her father would do would be so much worse. At least she could make it quick and painless. She took the pistol he held out to her and, for a moment, had the thought that she should turn it on him.

“I know what you're thinking, Samantha. I’m inclined to reward you for such a thought. That's good. You're learning something after all. Because you want to kill me, instead of this little flea bag, I'll let his death be the only punishment you receive today. It's not loaded yet, so it won't do you any good."

He set the puppy on the floor and it blinked up at her as Michael loaded the pistol and handed it to her.

"Now," He said with perverse excitement lacing his voice. "You will say, Love has no place with me, and pull the trigger. Aim true, Samantha. You wouldn't want the little guy to suffer."

Sam lifted the pistol, aimed straight between those trusting, soft brown eyes that she would never forget, said, "Love has no place with me.” and pulled the trigger.

Sam didn't hear the gunshot, or register her father's glee at how well she'd done it. All she saw was that puppy, the life she'd taken. All she felt was numb. She vowed then, at the old age of nine, that she would never love again, and that someday, she would destroy her father.

That was the night her mother killed herself.

Sam blinked awake, disoriented, fighting the dark heaviness that settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She looked to the side, saw Stone there, sleeping deeply, arm slung over his eyes, looking so peaceful. She looked at the bedside clock, two a.m. She needed to get out of this bed.

Over the last couple of days, since they'd returned from their camp-out at the lake. She’d let herself start to feel something for this man who claimed to love her. It was scary, hearing him say it, seeing that it didn’t change the way he treated her. She couldn't say it back, wasn't even sure if she was capable of such an emotion towards a man. Didn't know what it would mean if she was.

She learned to love Carla, but she'd known Carla for more than ten years. Carla had been the one to challenge Sam every step of the way. Carla taught her how to have a relationship with another person, but Carla was a woman. Loving Carla and her family was a universe away from loving a man. Sam just didn't think she had it in her. Maybe, once she was no longer preoccupied with the Carnelian deal and all her plans, maybe then she could try to love him. She wanted to try. He made her want to try.

She tiptoed to the living room where Jasper lay curled on his big, sheepskin bed. Hearing her enter the room, the dog raised his head, following her with his eyes as she made her way to the large sofa. “Hey Jas.” She whispered to him.

As soon as she was seated, Jasper moved to her, pressing into her legs, resting his head on top of her thighs. Sam stroked the dog’s soft fur, not trying to stop the tears streaming down her cheeks.