Chapter 14
I awaken to the sound of banging, bolting upright, instantly alert. I scan the room. Light streams in from the windows. What time is it? It takes me several seconds to remember where I am, and a few more to calm my galloping heart. Domino’s room. She offered me their extra bed last night.
“Where is she?” I hear someone’s muffled demand through the walls. Knox.
I sit up, and the clock tells me it’s almost noon. I rub a hand down my face, feeling like I’ve been hit by a brick wall. Domino and her roommates left, probably hours ago, to head for class, and I slept through the entire thing.
Knox is still shouting, and I haul myself out of bed, gathering the clothes I tossed on the floor last night and throwing open the door.
“Knox,” I yell. “What are you doing?”
He whirls on me. “Where have you been?”
“I slept in here last night.”
“Why?”
I brush past him and punch the keypad outside my door.
“Why aren’t you in your bed, and why weren’t you in class this morning?”
We both enter my dorm room and come to a halt. The damage is even worse in the stark light of day. The angry red letters seem to hover off the wall like they’ve been hammered in place with rusty nails.
Traitor.
I’m a traitor to everything my House represents.
I rejected their test and effectively spat in the face of our duty.
The weight of my choice seeps through my skin like poison.
I am the House scion’s daughter, and it is my responsibility to uphold its values.
I didn’t just betray my father; I betrayed everyone in Fiama.
“What the fuck?” Knox asks, his expression a mixture of astonishment and anger. “Who did this?”
“How should I know?” I answer, dumping my clothes into the hamper and fumbling through my ruined things for something salvageable to wear.
It seems they didn’t touch most of my dressier outfits.
Instead, my school stuff seems to have been the target.
My pants are all stained with paint splatters, but they’ll have to do.
I rescue a clean sweater from the drawer where I’ve been keeping Teddy.
I return him to the pile, not bothering to hide him. Knox knows all about my attachment to my old toy, and I don’t think even he’s a big enough dick to give me a hard time about it right now.
I head for the bathroom to change. Looking down at myself, I uselessly wipe away a splash of red. I throw some water on my face and run a brush through my hair before tying it up in a loose ponytail.
When I return to the room, Knox is pacing back and forth on his phone. “Get someone to clean this up,” he’s demanding with authority and barely contained rage. “This is a mess. She needs new uniforms, too. I’ll kill whoever did this.”
He seems genuinely pissed, and I can’t decide if it’s on my behalf or if this is about something else. I’ll never understand this strange need to “protect” me while also disrespecting me at every turn. But I suppose it’s no different than my parents.
While Knox rages on the line, I hunt down my phone, finding it at the bottom of my bag where I tossed it last night. I need to head back to the med wing. Hopefully, Trin’s awake and feeling better.
“Where are you going?” Knox asks as he disconnects from the line. “Someone is coming to clean this up.”
He waves a hand, and I nod. “Thank you for taking care of that,” I say, truly meaning it. I don’t know how I’d deal with this otherwise. “I’m going to see Trinity now.”
I head for the door. He sidesteps in front of me, blocking my exit.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Poet, you can’t be seen with her anymore. They had to rescue her from that fight—it’s embarrassing. Your image is tarnished enough, and you need to cut her off.”
I inhale a fortifying breath. “My image? Trinity almost died. I’m not worried about my image.”
Knox backs up and leans against the door, effectively barricading me in the room. “What did your father want yesterday?”
“The same thing you do,” I say wryly. “But I’ve promised to fix this.”
“Why did you do it?” he asks.
“I told you. I couldn’t kill that man.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and his arms tense where they’re folded over his chest.
“Trinity is my best friend,” I say in a low voice. “You cannot stop me from seeing her. I’ve put up with a lot of your shit, Knox, but this is where I draw the line. If you keep me from her, any chance we have for happiness is over. I’ll never forgive you for this.”
His mouth presses together, but he must understand how serious I am because he says, “Fine. Go. But you’re having dinner with me and my boys tonight.”
When I open my mouth to argue, he shakes his head.
“I know things have been . . . distant between us this past year, but you’re my fiancée.
We need to present a united front. Your best friend is about to be kicked out of Society, and your position protects you from some of the fallout, but you’re also on thin ice. People need to see that we’re solid.”
I stare at him for several silent seconds. It’s the most articulate thing I’ve heard him say, possibly ever. He almost sounds like the leader he’s intended to be.
“Understood,” I say. “But I’m not waiting for you after every class. I can find my way around school without a babysitter.”
“Then you’re eating all your meals with me,” he counters.
“Fine,” I say. “I can live with that.”
We’ve never engaged in this type of negotiation before.
It’s the first time in a long while that I feel like maybe I could make this work.
Skies, I must need more sleep because that’s preposterous.
I will find a way to escape him without blowing up my family, but at least for now, I can find peace in this arrangement.
“Then say hi to Trinity,” he answers, his lip curling in derision. The bitterness in his words crashes me back to reality, reminding me of every invisible scar he’s scored under my skin.
“Sure,” I bite out. “I’ll do that.”
I wait for him to move. Slowly, he steps aside, and I glare at him before wrenching open the door and stopping. “I have no idea why you’re like this,” I say. “Sometimes I think you could be so much better, but then you have to go and become the worst version of yourself.”
Something flashes over his expression. Maybe a tiny moment of comprehension. Or maybe I’m just seeing what I want.
Before he can reply, I slam the door behind me.
A real partner would have asked to join me—not to watch over me but to offer support.
A caring fiancé would make sure my best friend is okay.
One moment of possessive reasonableness doesn’t wipe away the years of hurt Knox Arden has caused.
What was I just thinking? We could never make it work.
And yet, unless I can find a way out of my engagement, someday I’ll have no choice but to live with it.