Chapter 16 Calder
Calder
The drive to the main house feels like driving toward an execution.
Saint sits rigid in the passenger seat, the whiskey Levi fed her wearing off fast, replaced by the sharp edge of fear. I can see it in the way her hands twist in the fabric of that fucking sundress, in the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she tries to control her breathing.
“Calder.” Her voice cracks on my name. “What’s he going to do?”
“I don’t know.” The lie comes swiftly. Because I do know. Or at least I can guess. Roman doesn’t summon people to the main house unless he’s planning something. Unless he wants an audience for whatever lesson he’s about to teach.
“Will he hurt me?”
I want to lie again, to tell her everything is going to be fine, but lying to her won’t protect her. It’s going to make her ill-prepared, and she deserves to know what she’s walking into.
“He might.” I keep my eyes on the road, on the familiar turn that leads from town toward the Bishop ranch. “But I won’t let him kill you. You’re mine now, and even he needs to understand that.”
She makes a sound that might be a laugh or a sob. “That’s not very comforting.”
“It’s not meant to be. It’s just the truth.”
The main house looms ahead, a sprawling structure of log and stone that’s been in the Bishop family for four generations. But I know what happens inside those walls. Know the kind of lessons Roman teaches behind closed doors.
I park beside Sawyer’s sleek SUV. Kade’s mud-splattered truck is already here too. And Levi’s Jeep. All the brothers have been summoned like I was. Whatever Roman has planned, he wants the whole family to witness it.
That’s never a good sign.
“Stay close to me,” I tell Saint as I kill the engine. “Don’t speak unless he asks you a direct question. And whatever happens, don’t cry. Tears make him worse.”
She nods, face pale, and lets me help her out of the truck. Her hand in mine is ice cold despite the heat I kept pumped in the truck.
I face her and tilt her chin up. “It’ll be okay.” Then I kiss her gently, softly, sweetly, until she melts a little against me. Perfect. She’s so fucking perfect.
I lace our fingers together, keeping her anchored to my side as we walk up the stone path to the front door.
It opens before we reach it.
Sawyer stands in the doorway, laptop under one arm, expression carefully neutral. But I can read the warning in his eyes. Whatever’s waiting inside, it’s bad.
“He’s in the dining room,” Sawyer says quietly. “Everyone’s here.”
“How angry is he?”
“Scale of one to ten?” Sawyer’s jaw tightens. “Fifteen.”
Fuck.
I guide Saint through the door, through the grand entryway with its vaulted ceilings and mounted elk heads. The house smells like leather and cedar, a scent that used to mean home but now just means danger.
The dining room sits at the back of the house, a massive space dominated by a table that could seat twenty. Right now, it seats four.
Roman sits at the head of the table like a king on his throne.
He’s removed his Stetson, and in the harsh overhead lighting, I can see every line of fury etched into his face.
His silver belt buckle catches the light as he leans back in his chair, beer in hand, watching us enter with eyes like chips of flint.
Kade sits to his left, arms crossed, expression dark and eager. He’s been waiting for this, for me to fuck up badly enough that Roman’s attention turns my way instead of his. Or at least a moment where he can spit an “I told you so” in my face.
Levi’s on the right, still in his riding gear, jaw clenched tight. He won’t meet my eyes. I’m not sure what that’s about. He’s probably pissed that his competition got cut short. At the far end of the table, Sawyer takes a seat, opening his laptop like he’s here to take notes.
“Sit.” Roman’s voice cuts through the silence like a knife.
Two empty chairs are left, the rest who the fuck knows where, one beside Levi and one beside Kade. I know this charade and have experienced it myself. They want to split us apart, and that’s not going to fucking happen.
I snag the chair beside Kade and drag it beside Levi, then I guide Saint to the one beside Levi, figuring he’s the safer option than leaving her back unprotected. Then I take the empty chair and brace myself.
Roman takes a long pull from his beer, eyes never leaving us. The silence stretches, taut and dangerous. This is his favorite tactic—to draw out the suspense, to make us wait, make us sweat, and make us understand that even if he hasn’t spoken yet, he’s the one in control.
Finally, he sets down his beer with deliberate care.
“I suppose I should congratulate you?” His voice is deceptively calm. “It’s just, I thought I raised you better, to show more respect. With enough decency to tell your mother and I before you decided to get married. Instead, we had to learn about it from the goddamn newspaper.”
“Dad—”
“Did I ask you to speak?” Roman’s gaze pins me in place. “No. I didn’t. So shut your fucking mouth and let me finish.”
I close my mouth. Beside me, Saint trembles, but she manages to keep her features clear and calm. Good girl.
“If that’s not enough, the icing on the cake of dis-fucking-respect,” Roman continues, “is that you two show up at the rodeo and I’m forced to watch you two play house.
Watch you parade her around like some prize you won.
Kissing her in public, holding her hand, acting like some lovesick fool. ” His lip curls. “It was pathetic.”
Kade smirks. Levi’s knuckles go white where his hands grip the armrests of his chair.
“You want to explain to me,” Roman says, voice dropping to something more dangerous, “why you thought you could marry this girl without my permission? Without even the courtesy of a conversation?”
This is the moment. The moment where I either sell the lie completely or everything falls apart.
“Because I knew you’d say no,” I say, meeting his gaze steadily. “And I wasn’t willing to lose her.”
Something flickers in Roman’s eyes, surprise, maybe, that I’m admitting it so plainly.
“Lose her.” He repeats the words like they taste foul. “You weren’t willing to lose the preacher’s daughter. Who I’ve never even seen you speak a word to.”
Saint makes a small sound, beside me. Fuck. The last thing I need is for more attention to be put on her. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Levi briefly closes his eyes, like he’s in pain.
“That’s right,” Roman says, his attention shifting to Saint. “Did my son tell you that? That he was supposed to kill you? That the only reason you’re sitting here breathing is because he defied me?”
“I know,” Saint says, and her voice is steadier than I expected. “He told me.”
“Did he also tell you that defying me in this family comes with consequences?” Roman stands, and the air in the room shifts, becomes charged with violence barely contained. “Did he explain what happens to people who think they can make their own decisions?”
“Dad.” My voice comes out harder than I intend. “This isn’t her fault. If you’re angry, be angry with me.”
“Oh, I am angry with you, son.” Roman starts walking around the table, slow and deliberate, like a predator circling prey. “I’m furious with you. I’m also curious about this girl who’s made you so stupid you’d risk everything for her.”
He stops behind Saint’s chair. She goes absolutely still.
“Stand up,” Roman orders.
Saint doesn’t move. It’s probably because she can’t move because she’s too afraid to.
“I said stand up.” Roman clamps down on her shoulder and yanks her to her feet. The chair scrapes across the hardwood floor, a sound reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard.
“Don’t touch her.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Roman’s smile is cruel, and I already know I’ve made a huge mistake.
“You get married, and suddenly, you think you’re the man of the house?
That you can give me orders and run the show?
” He grabs me by the hair, and my scalp screams as he pulls my head back.
I grit my teeth, trying to swallow down the pain.
“Answer me!” he snarls in my face.
“No, sir.” I press the words out through my teeth.
I can barely make out Saint’s face from the position I’m in, but there’s no mistaking the fear that’s etched into her features. “Good, then you’ll keep your mouth shut while I do whatever the hell I want to your little wife.”
I hate it. Hate that I can’t fight back. That Saint has to witness me like this, weak and powerless. He releases me with a shove, and I adjust myself in my chair. No matter what happens, I won’t let him hurt her.
Done with me at least for right now, he moves on to survey Saint in a slow circle, inspecting her like livestock. “I’m not sure what all the fuss is about.” His gaze narrows with interest. “She’s mighty sweet and innocent-looking. Far from your type, if you ask me.”
I’m tempted to pipe up and tell him he doesn’t know what my type is, or even what matters to me, but I don’t want to instigate him any more than I already have.
“You don’t care about our opinions, though. Do you?”
It’s a trick question. No matter what answer I give him, I’m wrong. “I do.”
“Wrong,” he murmurs and reaches out to stroke Saint’s arm. “But is she worth risking the family for? Worth risking everything we’ve built?”
“Yes,” I say, and there’s too much truth in that single word for this situation.
Roman stops in front of Saint, tilting her chin up with one finger to force her to look at him. “You must be something special to make my son so stupid. So tell me, girl—what is it about you that’s worth all this trouble? You got a magic cunt or something?”
Saint’s breathing is shallow, rapid. But when she speaks, her voice doesn’t shake. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask your son.”
The defiance in her tone makes my heart stutter, even as pride wells up to pump it with heat. All for her.
Roman’s eyes narrow. “You’ve got a mouth on you. I don’t like mouthy women. Especially not women who marry into my family without permission.”