Chapter 40
Istared at the dark wood of the office desk, my eyes tracing the grain patterns without really seeing them.
My body was numb, hollowed out, as if someone had scraped away everything inside me with a dull blade.
Two days. Two fucking days since we had destroyed everything.
The memory of Cade's screams echoed in my head, a constant, merciless soundtrack that allowed no rest, no peace.
I could still smell the sickening stench of burning flesh when I closed my eyes.
Could still feel the weight of the whip in my hands, the resistance as the leather bit into her skin.
"Are you even listening to me, Mr Bowers?
" Killingham's sharp voice cut through my thoughts, dragging me back to the suffocating confines of the Covenant House office.
He stood before us, impeccably dressed as always, but the usual controlled demeanour had fractured, revealing something close to genuine rage beneath.
"Yes, sir," I replied mechanically, forcing myself to look up.
Logan sat beside me, his face a rigid mask.
The only sign of his inner turmoil was the white-knuckled grip he maintained on the arms of his chair.
He hadn't slept, none of us had, but the dark circles under his eyes and the gaunt hollows of his cheeks made him look like a man twice his age.
"As I was saying," Killingham continued, his voice dripping with contempt, "this catastrophic failure of judgement has implications far beyond your little power games.
The Trivium does not authorise punishments on a whim, Mr Bale.
" His gaze cut to Logan, who flinched visibly.
"Especially not the Second Offence Punishment Protocol.
Especially not without thorough investigation.
Christ, that Protocol has only ever been carried out four times in the history of the Trivium. "
"Williams said-" Logan began, but Killingham slammed his palm against the desk.
"Williams said," he mimicked savagely. "And you, what?
Lost all capacity for independent thought?
Decided a man desperate to prove his worth to the Inner Circle was the perfect arbiter of justice?
" I watched Logan shrink further into himself, and despite my anger toward him, I felt a flicker of sympathy.
We had all failed. We had all broken our promise to protect her.
"How is she?" I asked, my voice rough from disuse. We hadn’t seen Cade since she was rushed away that night, and we had been forbidden to follow. Killingham's eyes narrowed as he turned to me.
“How do you think she is, Mr Bowers?” he snarled.
Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before opening them again and looking directly at me.
I didn’t see a man going through formalities; I saw someone who seemed genuinely horrified at what was going on.
Of course, a lot of that was to do with the fact that we found out that Williams hadn’t got the approval for the Second Offence Punishment Protocol in the first place.
“Miss Turner remains at Harrowdon Hospital. She was under sedation for the first twenty-four hours while they treated her wounds. She is now conscious and in significant pain, but stable.”
"And still refusing to see any of us," I finished, the words like ash in my mouth.
"Can you blame her?" Killingham's question hung in the air, impossible to answer.
"You three were meant to protect her. Instead, you carved your failure into her flesh.
" I flinched, remembering the raised welts, the blood beading along each lash mark, the sickening smell as the brand seared her skin.
My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat.
"Mr Purcell is out trying to see her again, I assume?" Killingham asked, glancing at the empty chair where the third Regent should have been. Logan nodded stiffly.
"Third time today."
"He needs to stop," Killingham said flatly. "She has made it clear she wants nothing to do with any of you right now, and her wishes will be respected. The medical staff have strict instructions."
"But if we could just explain-" Logan started.
"Explain what?" Killingham cut him off. "That you believed a doctored video over her?
That you didn't bother to verify the evidence?
That you dragged her into the woods and tortured her in front of half the student body?
" His voice rose with each question until he was nearly shouting.
"What exactly do you think you can explain that will undo what you've done?
" The silence that followed was deafening.
I stared at my hands, the same hands that had wielded the whip against her.
I could still feel the resistance as it cut through the air, the sickening impact, the way her body had jerked with each strike.
I had thrown up afterward, but what good was that?
What good was remorse when her back would forever bear the scars of our betrayal?
"Williams' position as Headmaster is currently under review," Killingham continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous quiet. "His enthusiasm for tradition over justice has not gone unnoticed by the Inner Circle."
"And us?" I asked, finally looking up to meet his gaze. "What happens to us?" Something flickered across Killingham's face, pity, perhaps, or disgust.
"That remains to be seen. The investigation is ongoing. And I won't lie in telling you that Miss Turner’s statement and wishes won’t be a deciding factor in your judgement." He sat down behind the desk and looked over at me.
“The poor girl has been through enough trauma in the last six weeks since becoming your responsibility,” he said. “We are still investigating the incident at the Alumni Dinner with Mrs Knotty.” I noticed with interest that he practically spat out Alyssa’s name.
"What has happened with her mother?" I asked suddenly, the words escaping before I could stop them. I didn’t expect a reply, so was surprised to not only get one, but such an emotion led one.
“That vile, wretched woman is trying to garner favour right now, but enough people heard her at the dinner. I doubt she will be welcome in polite circles, and Blake, Harrison, and I are looking into whether the Knotty’s remain within the Trivium family.
” I quirked an eyebrow at the distaste. I knew they were treating the incident seriously, but I didn’t expect such a passionate take. Killingham shook his head.
“Apologies, I am afraid I have a tainted history with Mrs Knotty,” he stopped and looked at me with something less than anger for a moment, “As do you, I come to understand it.” Yeah, tainted history, that was quite the understatement.
"Needless to say, I am not unsympathetic to Miss Turner's situation," Killingham carried on, and for the first time, I caught a glimpse of genuine concern beneath his cold exterior.
"Which is why I have personally overseen her care these past two days.
The Trivium protects its own, Mr Bowers.
Even when its own fail spectacularly at protecting each other. "
The door slammed open with enough force to rattle the windows, and Ryder stormed in, his face flushed with rage and something close to madness. His hair was wild, his clothes rumpled, as if he'd been running his hands through his hair and tugging at his clothes in frustration.
"She still won't see me," he said, his voice cracking. "I begged them. I fucking begged them to just let me apologise, and they wouldn't even take a message to her. Luce even came out of the room and told me to go fuck myself."
"As I was just explaining to your fellow Regents," Killingham said calmly, "Miss Turner has requested no contact with any of you. Her wishes will be respected."
"Fuck that!" Ryder shouted, slamming his fist against the wall. "I need to see her! I need to explain that I had no choice, that I-"
"You will control yourself, Mr Purcell," Killingham's voice cut through Ryder's outburst like a whip. "Or you will find yourself removed from this university entirely." Ryder's chest heaved, his eyes wild as they darted between us.
"This is your fault," he hissed at Logan. "You saw that fucking video and ran straight with Williams' plan without even questioning it. Without even giving her a chance to explain."
"Ryder-" Logan began, but was cut off by the sharp trill of Killingham's phone.
Killingham glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing.
"I need to take this," he said, answering the call. "Killingham here." A pause, then:
"Put it on video. Now." He moved to the laptop on the desk, opening it and tapping a few keys.
"I'm putting you on screen. The Regents are with me.
" The screen flickered to life, revealing a face I didn't recognise, a man in his thirties, with close-cropped dark hair and the efficient, analytical expression of someone who spent more time with computers than people.
"Mr Killingham, Regents," the man nodded. "I'm Jonas Whitston, Trivium security analysis. I've been reviewing the evidence that led to the Second Protocol against Miss Turner."
My heart stuttered in my chest. Beside me, Logan leant forward, his expression tense.
"And?" Killingham prompted.
"The clip was fake," Whitston said flatly. "Sophisticated work, but definitely manipulated. We've recovered the original footage from the security server, which was used as the base for the doctored version."