Chapter 16 Calder #2
“I didn’t have much choice in the matter. You don’t really say no to a Bishop,” Saint says, and fuck, she needs to stop talking. Needs to shut her mouth before Roman—
The slap comes so fast I barely see it.
The crack of palm against skin echoes through the dining room like a gunshot. Saint’s head snaps to the side, and she staggers, would’ve fallen if Levi hadn’t caught her arm.
Everything goes white.
I’m on my feet before I realize I’m moving, chair clattering backward. My hands are fists, my vision tunneling down to my father’s face, to the hand he just used to strike her.
“You piece of shit—”
Kade’s on me in an instant, pinning my arms back. “Don’t,” he hisses in my ear. “You’ll make it worse.”
“Get your fucking hands off me.”
“Calder,” Sawyer’s says, sharp and commanding, “stand down.”
I can’t. Can’t stand down, can’t breathe, can’t think past the rage burning through my veins. Because he hit her. My father hit Saint, and every instinct I have is screaming at me to retaliate.
Roman watches my struggle with cold satisfaction. “There it is. The real reason you married her. Not to protect her from me. Not even because you wanted her.” He steps closer, and I can smell the beer on his breath. “You married her because you’re in love with her. She’s your weakness.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t lie to me, boy. I’ve been watching you watch her. Seen the way you look at her when you think no one’s paying attention.” His smile is vicious. “You’re soft for this girl. And soft men don’t survive in this family.”
Behind him, Levi’s helping Saint back into her chair. Her cheek is already swelling, an angry red handprint stark against her pale skin. She’s not crying, though. Not giving Roman the satisfaction.
“This is my fault,” I say, forcing my voice to steady. “Not hers. If you’re going to punish someone, punish me.”
“Oh, I intend to.” Roman nods at Kade. “Let him go.”
Kade releases me, and I stumble forward, catching myself on the edge of the table. Roman’s fist catches me in the gut before I can straighten, driving the air from my lungs. I double over, gasping.
“That’s for getting married without permission,” Roman says.
The second blow catches me across the jaw, snapping my head to the side. Pain explodes through my skull, bright and sharp.
“That’s for making me look like a fool in front of the whole town.”
The third hit lands on my ribs, and I hear something crack. I drop down to one knee, and the coppery tang of blood fills my mouth.
“And that’s for thinking you could keep secrets from me.”
Through the ringing in my ears, I hear Saint’s voice. “Stop! Please, stop. He didn’t—”
“Sit down, girl, before I give you the same punishment.” Roman’s boot connects with my shoulder, and I hit the floor. “Your husband needs to learn his place, and clearly, words aren’t enough to penetrate his skull.”
Another kick, this time to my stomach. I curl into myself, trying to protect my vital organs, trying to breathe through the pain.
“Dad.” Levi’s voice, strained. “That’s enough.”
“I’ll decide when it’s enough.” Roman crouches beside me, grabbing a fistful of my hair to force my head up. “You listening, Calder?”
I manage a nod.
“Good. Because here’s how this is going to work.
You want to keep this girl? Fine. But she becomes a Bishop properly.
Full ceremony. Branding, the works.” He releases my hair and lets my head drop back to the floor.
“And you’re going to watch every second of it.
Going to remember what it costs to defy me. ”
Saint makes a sound like a wounded animal. “Branding? What does that—”
“It means,” Roman says, standing and brushing off his jeans like he didn’t just beat his son half to death, “that you get marked as Bishop property. Hot iron, right here.” He touches his hip.
“Same as every woman who marries into this family. My wife has one. My mother had one. And you’ll have one too. ”
“No.” Saint’s voice is small but defiant. “I won’t. You can’t—”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want, girl. This is my family. My rules.” Roman walks back to the head of the table and picks up his beer like nothing happened.
“The ceremony happens on Monday. I’ll give you a couple of days to prepare and give the mark time to heal before we deal with the next part. ”
“What’s the next part?” Saint asks, and I want to tell her to stop talking, to stop asking questions she doesn’t want the answers to.
Roman’s smile is pure evil. “The wedding ceremony, of course. Can’t have a proper Bishop marriage without that. We’ll save that discussion for after the branding.”
The room spins. I try to push myself up, but my ribs scream in protest. Hands grab my arms, Levi on one side, Sawyer on the other, hauling me to my feet.
“Get him out of here,” Roman says dismissively. “And take his wife with him. I’m done looking at them both for tonight.”
Levi helps me toward the door while Sawyer goes to Saint. Through the haze of pain, I watch him help her stand, watch the way she moves like she’s made of glass, like she might shatter at any moment.
“Calder.” Roman’s voice stops us at the doorway. “One more thing.”
I turn, or try to. Everything hurts.
“You bring me that marriage license by morning. I want to see the proof that this is legal. And if I find out you forged it, if I find out any of this is bullshit, I won’t just brand her. I’ll kill her. Slowly. Painfully, and I’ll make you watch.” He takes a long pull from his beer. “We clear?”
“Crystal,” I manage.
“Good. Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Levi practically drags me out of the dining room, through the entryway, out into the cool night air. Behind us, Sawyer’s guiding Saint, her face pale as death, that handprint livid on her cheek.
We make it to my truck before Saint breaks.
She tears away from Sawyer and doubles over, retching into the bushes. Nothing comes up but the whiskey Levi gave her, no doubt burning twice on the way back out. Her whole body shakes with the force of it.
I want to go to her. Want to hold her hair back, want to comfort her, want to do something other than stand here useless while Levi keeps me upright.
But I can barely stand. Can barely breathe. And the look on her face when she finally straightens tells me she doesn’t want my comfort anyway.
“You knew,” she says, and her voice is hollow. “You knew what he would do, and you brought me here anyway. Was it another kind of punishment to have me watch you beaten?”
“Saint—” I expected her anger at Roman’s treatment of her, but she’s upset because of his treatment of me? My mind can’t wrap around that through the pain.
“Don’t.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Just don’t. Not right now.”
Sawyer steps forward, ever the mediator. “Let’s get you both home. We can deal with the rest tomorrow.”
“The rest,” Saint repeats bitterly. “You mean the branding. The ceremony where your father burns his mark into my skin like I’m cattle.”
None of us has an answer for that.
Levi helps me into the passenger seat of my own truck because there’s no way I can drive like this. Saint climbs in the back without being asked, as far from me as she can get in the confined space.
“I’ll drive you back to your place,” Levi says quietly. “Sawyer, follow us? We need to make sure Calder gets inside okay.”
“Yeah.” Sawyer’s already moving toward his SUV. “I’ll grab the marriage license from their house and bring it to Dad first thing in the morning. Might cool him down a bit if he sees we’re complying.”
“Nothing’s going to cool him down,” Kade says, lingering nearby and watching us all. He’s been doing nothing but watch this whole time, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“Thanks for the reassurance,” Levi snaps.
“Just stating facts.” Kade’s gaze finds mine through the truck window. “You made your choice, Calder. Now you get to live with the consequences.”
He disappears back into the house, probably to help Roman celebrate his victory.
Levi starts the truck, and we pull away from the main house. In the side mirror, I can see Saint’s reflection, her hand pressed to her cheek, tears finally spilling down her face now that we’re out of sight.
She’s not making a sound. Just crying silently, staring out the window at the darkness rushing past.
And I can’t do a goddamn thing to help her.
Because in one week, my father’s going to burn his mark into her skin. Going to make her scream. Going to break whatever small amount of trust I’ve managed to build with her.
And there’s not a fucking thing I can do to stop it.