Chapter 6
SIX
LAUREL
I woke up in a cold sweat, my breaths coming fast and my heart racing.
Fucking nightmares.
I breathed, trying to ease the panic that had flared up in my veins. Muppet started purring, climbing onto my chest and smashing his face into mine to demand pets. I sank my hands into his soft fur as I slowly calmed down.
Control.
Steady breathing.
I glanced at my phone to see if Soren’s assistant had rearranged our meeting, and was instead faced with a summons to my father’s office. From half an hour ago.
Usually, that would have sent me running, but that spark that I’d reignited last night made me dig in my heels. I was already late.
What were a couple more minutes?
I dressed and took my time with my hair and makeup.
This time felt different from all the other times that I’d been summoned.
I was still afraid—my stomach wouldn’t settle, and my hands were trembling as I exited my villa—but this time, I clung tight to that fire in my chest and held my head high as I walked.
Prince had deserved that slap, and I didn’t regret finding that part of myself I thought I’d lost.
I stood outside the heavy oak doors, calming my mind before I entered. One of his security guards knocked for me, and we heard his voice call out for me to enter. The security guard opened the door, and I stepped inside.
The smell of his office—leather, and my father’s thick, bitter cocoa—made my heart rate spike and my hands go clammy. He was leaning against his fancy desk, face set in stone, arms folded. His suit was dark grey, and his black hair was thinning at the top of his head.
Although he was clean, the darkness of his stubble and the deep shadows of his wrinkles made him appear as though he had grime permanently embedded in his skin. He’d started to develop jowls in the past few years, and parts of his face were softening, giving it the texture of congealing oatmeal.
“Leave us,” he said to the security guard. “No disturbances.”
The guard nodded.
Scrraape.
Click.
The door closed with the sounds that still haunted my nightmares.
I was left alone with him, sealed inside. The security guards wouldn’t open the door until they heard my father order it. No matter what. I’d even been in here when my father had shot his gun, and still, that door stayed closed.
He regarded me for a moment, a familiar sneer coming to his face. I felt pinned by his cold gaze, trying to avoid squirming like a beetle on a stick.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice light. That was a very bad sign.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, the words automatic. I could feel my body shutting down. My face felt blank as I stared at my father, not really seeing him.
He stood, and I stared ahead as he moved to stand in front of me, his gaze raking over my face and lingering on my hair. His hands were clasped behind his back, but I knew what he would be holding.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he said.
“Because I hit Prince,” I responded, my voice only wavering a little.
“You struck an alpha in the middle of your suite. In front of everyone!” His voice was getting louder, his face reddening as he worked himself up.
“You’ve damaged your image, your reputation—everything we’ve worked so hard to build!
I can’t believe it. You have one job, Laurel, and I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to treat alphas with basic fucking respect! ”
I didn’t speak, because he hadn’t asked a question.
Be still.
Be silent.
Be small.
“One job!” he roared, stepping toward me. “Tell me, Laurel, is it really that hard?”
“No—”
The sound of the wooden switch was a hungry inhale of promised pain as it parted the air faster than my eyes could track.
Crack.
He’d struck the side of my head, the force enough to send me staggering into a chair.
I caught myself on the back of it, breaths heaving through the faint ringing in my ears and the searing line of pain now prickling my skin.
“And you still can’t manage it,” my father barked.
I struggled to stand again, lacing my hands behind me and straightening my back. My face was red and my eyes and nose were watering, but I refused to sniff.
Control.
My scent hadn’t wavered.
I kept my head down, baring my neck in submission. Not that it ever did any good. Father grabbed the front of my blazer, dragging me toward him with his free hand. His face had developed angry red spots, and the veins around his eyes stood out.
“One job,” he hissed.
He shook me for emphasis before casting me to the floor.
I curled in on myself to protect my torso as he hit me over and over, only letting out short whimpers.
Each strike reverberated through my whole body, sending deep, sharp pains through me, and left burning welts across my skin.
But there was one thing that he couldn’t touch, and I clung to my stubborn spark as I lay there, determined not to let it go out again.
“Fucking useless,” he hissed, delivering one final kick to my knee before he sank down onto a chair. His face was fully red now, his comb-over sticking up off his head. “Your mother’s child through and through. Fucking bitch.”
I didn’t move.
Everything hurt.
I breathed in.
I breathed out.
My scent hadn’t changed.
But my spark had survived.
He sighed and took a sip from his whiskey glass, laying the switch down on his desk.
“Get up, for god’s sake,” he snapped, and I uncurled, my limbs stiff as I struggled to my feet. My left leg was trembling as it held my weight, but I ignored it and stood as normally as possible.
“I’m sorry I failed you, Father,” I said automatically.
“Come here.”
I went over to him until he was close enough to snatch my head and twist it side to side, checking to see if my face was damaged. The strike had connected with the side of my head, clipping the top of my ear, but I’d be able to cover that with my hair.
He let me go with a sigh, and I straightened as he rubbed his forehead.
“This is my fault,” he said. “I believed you’d be all right if I loosened your leash a bit, but I was clearly wrong.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to hide my dismay.
What was I about to lose? Would I be able to keep fencing my jewelry with Jade?
What about my surveillance gear? It was all in my villa, and the thought of having to get rid of it made my heart squeeze painfully.
And what about Muppet? What if someone found out about him?
“What are you still doing here? Dismissed,” he said, loud enough to alert the security outside.
The door opened, and the guard held it open for me.
“Thank you, Father,” I heard myself say, but he’d already turned his attention to something else.
I slipped out of his office and limped to the elevator. I took the staff corridors and the back garden path to my villa.
Once inside, I finally let the pain out. My scent unfurled, marred with deep, bitter notes, but no tears came. I wasn’t sure my body knew how to cry anymore.
My vision was blurry as I grabbed some ice packs and headed to the bathroom. I pulled off my clothes and stared at myself blankly in the full-length mirror.
My face was perfect, the tinge of red around my eyes the only indication of what had happened.
The bruises from the last time had almost completely faded, traces of yellow green in lines across my body. My hip’s bruise from where I’d hit the corner of his desk still had some purple in it.
The new welts were bright and stark in contrast. Two were blooming on my legs, two on my shins, and a bruise from where he’d kicked my left knee.
I had three on my arms and one on my right shoulder.
Lifting my hand, I delicately touched the tender spot behind my ear.
I winced and pulled away. No headbands or clips there for a while.
I let the Duchess take over as I pulled my clothes back on and started to wrap the ice packs into place. She was efficient and emotionless, and I felt as though I was watching someone else take care of me, like Jule used to.
When I was done, my scent was back under control. I sank down onto the couch. Muppet jumped into my lap, purring and curling up.
I stared blankly at the wall, then closed my eyes.
I could try and leave.
Did it make me a terrible person that I wanted so desperately to go? To leave and never look back?
To abandon Jule?
What if he is dead? What if you’re staying here for nothing?
The doubt nagged at my mind, and I couldn’t shake it. Part of me wondered if I had imagined someone else in that coffin. If Jule had been miserable enough to jump off the rooftop. But, as always, I pushed it away.
Fuck that. I couldn’t give up on him.
He’d protected me for years. My pain was a small price to pay for the chance of getting him back.
I repeated that to myself as my mantra as I petted Muppet’s soft fur.