Chapter 17 Isolde #2
I laugh, bitter. “So, what? I stay here and wait for Rhett to chain me up and fuck a dynasty into me?”
Charlie doesn’t laugh. “It’s not that simple. I told you, they want an heir. But you have power. More than you think. If you leave, you lose it all, your life is your greatest weapon. Here, you can make them pay for every minute you’re alive.”
It’s supposed to be a comfort, but it isn’t. I look at her, and she looks back, and for a second I wonder if she’s here to stop me or just to witness it.
“Thanks,” I say, voice small. “I’m really feeling the hope right now.”
Charlie nudges the suitcase with her foot. “If you’re gonna run, at least pack a bit lighter.”
I snort, then surprise myself by crying. It starts with a whimper, a hitch in my chest, then the flood. I bury my face in my hands, sitting on my bed, and sob until I can barely breathe.
Charlie says nothing. She just stands there, silent, until I’m done.
When the tears slow, she puts a hand on my back. “It’s okay to hate him,” she says, meaning Rhett. “You don’t have to forgive him.”
I nod, snotty and raw. “But I’m stuck with him anyway.”
She shrugs. “Maybe. But he’s stuck with you too.”
I laugh, a wet sound, and wipe my nose. “What do I even do?”
Charlie looks at me, and for once there’s something like compassion in her eyes. “You fight. Any way you can. Just don’t let them win.”
The door rattles, startling us, then opens.
Rhett.
He stands in the doorway, black suit immaculate, hair combed and gelled like he’s at a funeral—his own, maybe. His eyes are stone, but there’s something wild underneath.
I jump up, fury back in an instant as Charlie slowly slips out and shuts the door behind him.
“How did you—” I start, but he holds up a key, twirls it on his finger.
“Always had one,” he says. “Did you really think I just lock-picked my way in every time?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl, and I mean it.
He steps in, closes the door. “You can’t run from this, Issy.”
I reach for something to throw. The nearest thing is a textbook, so I hurl it at his head. He ducks, and it smashes into the door.
“You think you own me now?” I grab a pen, a hairbrush, a glass of water—anything. I launch them one by one. The pen bounces off his shoulder, the hairbrush hits him in the chest, the water soaks his face and shirt, but he doesn’t flinch. The glass shatters against the wall, shards everywhere.
“You’re such a fucking narcissist,” I scream. My voice is ragged. “You’d sell out your own kid just to get your name on a plaque.”
Rhett stands there, letting it hit him, letting me scream. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches as I tear my room apart.
It’s only when I run out of things to throw that Rhett finally moves, wiping the water from his face. He sits on the bed, right in front of me, and says, “Done?”
I want to claw his face off. I want to bite and scratch and rip and tear until there’s nothing left. But I’m tired, so tired.
I collapse on the far side of the bed, sobbing into the sheets.
He waits.
After a minute, I lift my head. “Why are you here?” I whisper.
He sits on the edge of the mattress and leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands knotted. “Because you’re too important to lose.”
I laugh, ugly and mean. “To you? Or to them?”
He looks me in the eye. “Both. But mostly to me.”
The anger comes back, sharper this time. “Then why did you sign it? The contract. Why did you let them take—” I can’t even say the word. “Why did you give them everything?”
He sighs, a sound so old it hurts to hear. “Because it doesn’t matter.”
I sit up, wiped out but curious. “What?”
He looks at me like I’m an idiot. “The contract. The rules. The Hunt. It’s all a fucking joke. You think I don’t know how to break a promise?”
It takes a minute to sink in. “You’re lying.”
He shakes his head. “I signed what they wanted. I let them believe they won. But I’m going to rip it all down. From the inside.”
My mouth goes dry. “You’re just going to… what, kill the Board?”
He smiles, small and savage. “If I have to.”
I don’t believe him. Not really. But a small, stupid part of me wants to.
He stands, wipes his hands on his pants. “You’re not a breeder, Isolde. You never were. You’re the fucking Queen, and if you want to run, I’ll burn the whole world down to find you.”
He turns and walks to the door, pausing in the threshold. “But if you want to stay—” He looks back, eyes soft, almost pleading. “If you stay, we win. Together.”
He stands, paces the room. Maybe waiting for me to beg him to leave or to fight him again. I don’t do either.
“You have terrible aim,” he leans against the wall, simply watching me.
I ignore him.
He pushes off the wall and paces the length of the room again. The way he moves, you’d think he was back in the Boardroom, running the show. But here, it’s just us, and I know that every step is a way to keep from exploding.
He stops at the window, stares into the night. His back is straight, hands behind his back. Military stance. It makes me want to punch him.
“We can go… run like Caius.”
He turns then, and for once, he’s not hiding behind a mask. His face is open, every muscle raw. “I’m not them. I don’t run.”
I can’t look away. “What do you want, Rhett?”
He takes a step closer, then another. “I want to take control and get rid of the rot from the inside. All of it. Not for the Board, not for me. For us. For the future we can have, for the one we can’t if I don’t.”
I want to call bullshit. I want to mock the way he says “us” like it’s always been a team effort.
But I can’t. There’s something in his voice, in the way his hands tremble at his sides.
He’s scared. Maybe for the first time in his life.
He sits on the edge of the desk, arms crossed. “The Hunt, the breeding clause, all of it. It only works if we play by their rules.”
I snort. “You’re not exactly known for playing nice, so it’s funny how amenable you’ve been.”
He actually smiles. It’s faint, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but it’s real. “No. But you are.”
That lands like a slap. “I’m not—”
He cuts me off. “You’re the only person here who gives a shit about the truth. The only one who would sacrifice anything for it. That’s why they want you. That’s why I want you.”
My mouth is dry. “So what, I’m supposed to be your partner in crime now?”
He nods. “Exactly. I don’t want to own you, Isolde. I want to fight with you, as partners, lovers. Maybe if I’m so lucky, as my wife.”
I stare at him. He’s not lying. Not this time.
It’s almost worse than if he were.
He keeps talking. “I have a plan. Caius is in hiding, but he has contacts. We’re going to use my position—Chairman, now—to rip the Board apart. Piece by piece. Once the rest of the Boys go through their rituals and take their places, we can move, but I need you with me, or none of this works.”
I stand up, fists balled. “Why me? Why can’t you let me leave and pick someone else?”
He walks over, stands so close I can feel the heat rolling off him. “Because you hate them as much as I do. Because you’re smarter than me, and braver, and because if I fail, you’re the only one who will make sure the story gets out. And because…”
I shake my head, but I don’t back away. “Because?”
“I love you, Isolde.”
My mouth drops open. He WHAT?
He steps closer, now inches from my face. “I swear, on whatever’s left of my soul, I will never let them touch you. Or our future child.”
My throat goes tight. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He looks down at my hands, then up at my face. “Let me prove it.”
I want to laugh, to spit in his eye, but instead I go to the drawer and pull out the knife. The one I kept for emergencies. It’s not big, but it’s sharp.
I hand it to him, handle first. “Swear it in blood.”
He takes it, no hesitation. He slices his palm, deep and fast. Blood wells, drips to the floor.
He flips the knife, offers it to me.
My hand shakes, but I cut my own palm. It hurts like hell, but I don’t flinch.
He grabs my hand, presses his bleeding palm to mine. The blood mixes, hot and wet. It runs down our wrists, stains the floor.
“Just like the Hunt, but this time, it is our choice,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss the top of my head.
I look at our hands, locked tight. I should feel trapped, but instead I feel lighter. Like maybe I can breathe again.
He holds my hand, not letting go. “You’re not alone, wildcat. Not anymore.”
For a long time, neither of us moves. We just stand there, bleeding onto the floor, breathing the same air.
I think of Casey. Of her smile, the way she sang when she thought no one was listening. I think of all the promises I never kept.
I look at Rhett, at the feral hope in his eyes. Maybe he’s still a monster. Maybe I am now too, too.
But I’d rather burn with him than freeze alone.
He squeezes my hand. “We’re going to win, Isolde. I swear.”
I squeeze back, so hard it hurts.
“If you’re lying, I’ll kill you myself.”
He grins, blood on his teeth. “I’d expect nothing less.”
We stand there, hand in hand, until the bleeding stops.
When it does, I realize: I’m not just fighting for revenge anymore. I’m fighting for something better.
For a future.
For us.