CHAPTER 39 #3
Dad rubs his chin, suddenly sheepish. “I, uh, never told you this, honey, but I was friends with President Reeve back when we were students at Grandmaster.” He pauses, and a small, proud smile edges across his mouth. “Still am, in fact, even though Reeve and I sometimes butt heads over politics.”
I pretend to be surprised. “Was he your closest friend?”
“Yeah. He was. We had a whole group, though. Theodore. Winston. Your mom. Daisy…” Dad’s mouth tightens around his sister’s name.
“And a few others, too.” He rubs his neck and shifts on the bench, as though the weight of the memories is still too heavy to sit with.
“The point is, not all Blues are bad. If you’ve found one that’s good, I trust your judgment. ”
Relief stirs in my chest, but I press it down, knowing it’s too soon to celebrate.
“Which Blue is it, by the way?” Dad asks.
“I—uh…” My throat dries. “It’s Edmund.”
His eyebrow lifts, as if he senses I’m being evasive. “Edmund, who?”
“Edmund… Prew.”
Dad lets out a short, disbelieving breath that’s half laugh, half cough. “For fuck’s sake, Loredana. That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking, Dad.”
The laugh dies. His mouth goes slack. “Really?”
“Yes.”
I blink, and for a moment, the world on his side of the call seems to stop.
When it resumes, a frame is missing—the instant before he realizes.
Suddenly, Dad is on his feet, the bench crashing backward with a splintering crack.
A blue jay darts from the wall, wings flapping wildly, as he slams his fist against the table hard enough to send the phone skittering to the edge.
His face drains instantly, the color vanishing into a dead white mask so quickly it shocks me.
“Prew?” Dad’s roar shreds through the speakers. “How could you, Loredana? What did I tell you? What the fuck did I tell you?”
I flinch, stunned. “I—Dad, I don’t—”
“Who was the one Blue family I told you to stay away from?” He claws both hands through his hair, pacing as if he wants to rip his thoughts from his skull. “You used to listen. You used to be careful. How could you do this?”
“I didn’t—” My breath snags. “You said the parents were dangerous. You never said Edmund—”
“You think that matters?” Dad’s shout tears through the garden, its echo almost mournful. I’ve never seen or heard him like this. He’s unraveling right in front of me, cursing wildly as his body breaks into frantic, uncontrollable tremors.
“Edmund’s not like them,” I say, standing too, my voice trembling. “He’s not. You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t need to know him! I know his blood.
I know what family raised him. And you think you’re safe with that?
” Dad’s laugh is hollow, already broken.
“Hell, Loredana—you might even be right. Edmund Prew might be a flower in a field of grenades, but guess what? You’re still standing in a fucking minefield. ”
I reel back, suddenly dizzy. “Why? Why them? Why does it matter so much?”
Dad stops, turns, and when his eyes lock with mine, the look on his face guts me. It’s darker than fear and rage, and much more horrifyingly familiar. It’s the same look he gave me when I staggered out of the locker room, covered in blue blood.
“The reason I told you to stay away from the Prews,” Dad says, “wasn’t because they’re cruel, powerful, or corrupt. Most Blues are. I warned you because of Charles.”
“Charles Blackwell?”
He nods, a slow, solemn dip of the head.
“They weren’t—” My voice breaks. “Edmund and Charles weren’t friends, were they?”
“I fucking wish.” Dad’s eyes hold mine, each word a sharper knife. “Charles was Edmund’s cousin.”
One time, when Hillaire and I were training at the compound back home, I let my guard down.
She was small then, maybe eleven or twelve, but fast. She caught me square in the chest with a roundhouse kick, and I slammed into the wall, the wind ripped from my lungs.
For almost a full minute, I couldn’t breathe.
I clawed at my chest, gasping, wide-eyed and panicked, because no air would come.
That’s how it feels now, like I’ve been hit again, only this time it’s internally. And there’s no wall behind me… just the horrible, ugly truth, watching as I collapse to the floor.
“Loredana.” Dad fumbles on the table for his phone. When he grabs it, his hand stretches toward the screen as if he could reach through it. “Loredana. Are you okay?”
I blink, trying to see him through the camera, but tears blur everything.
I can’t breathe. I can hardly move. When my response finally breaks free, the words fracture into a low, broken moan scraped from deep inside my chest, a sound that doesn’t feel like mine. It feels like grief wearing my voice.
“Loredana,” Dad repeats my name, but his voice is drowned out by the rush of blood in my ears.
I hunch forward on the table beside the sofa with a strangled gasp, as if life is leaving my heart along with its break. I don’t believe it. What I feel for Edmund won’t let me. And yet the grief is changing now, twisting into the familiar, panicked instinct to run, to get out before it’s too late.
“I-I’ll leave Edmund’s entourage,” I say, barely able to work my throat.
“No.” The word rips out of Dad, before he reins it in, softening. “No. If you two are as close as you say, backing away now will only make him suspicious. He’ll ask questions. He’ll want to know why.”
“Then what do I do?”
“Stay put until the year ends. Just a few more weeks. After that, during summer break, you start pulling away. Make excuses if he invites you out. Don’t reply to his messages right away.
Bit by bit, you fade. By the time your second year begins, it won’t feel sudden.
He’ll already be getting used to life without you. ”
I shake my head, still dizzy, still taking short, shallow breaths as I try to steady myself. This plan will never work. With the way Edmund looks at me now, he’d follow. He’d follow me to the edge of the earth, never giving up until he knew why I gave up first.
But I can’t tell Dad this. And that’s when it occurs to me how senseless this is, how horribly avoidable all of it was. I whirl on Dad, my throat shredded raw by the scream.
“Why, Dad? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
He flinches, pained for me, but the one thing I’m searching for—regret—isn’t there.
“Because you’re obedient, Loredana. Or you used to be. I thought you’d stay clear of him. And I figured not knowing would make it easier for you to focus. To survive there.”
“Edmund still could’ve found out,” I say. “Even if I wasn’t his friend. What, then?”
“He could’ve, yeah. Any Blue could’ve. But I’ve been keeping an eye on that. Ted gave me—” Dad stops, frowning as he corrects himself. “President Reeve allowed me to put an alert on the file. If anyone ever unseals it, I’ll know before they do.”
He sets his phone back on the red brick wall with a white-knuckled grip.
Then he leans against the wall, almost as if he needs it to hold himself up, and watches me.
I know he’s waiting for more questions, but there’s nothing left to ask.
The truth has already done its damage, and the damage is complete.
I feel blindly for the sofa until my body folds onto it. My arms and legs go first, before the numbness seeps into my chest, burrowing deeper than skin and bone, until even my frantic, uneven heartbeat begins to quiet.
Edmund told me not to betray him. That was the one rule.
The only rule. And I promised I wouldn’t, never realizing I already had.
The worst part isn’t what I’ve done; it’s the timing.
If I’d known sooner, I could’ve survived it.
I could’ve left him, because back then he was nothing more than another spot of blue in the endless, shifting tide.
But now… now he’s everything.
Now I love him.