“Will he!?” My voice grows shrill with urgency. “Because like I said…they’re going to kill me if he doesn’t! Can you at least promise me that he’ll respond? I mean…can’t you all just work it out between yourselves without dragging me into it!?”
“All you need to know is that your father has a plan,” he offers grimly, sparking more fear than reassurance. “Malcolm. That’s all for now.”
He steps toward me again, but I pull my arms back. I can’t believe I’m getting shuffled off again without knowing what this all means for me.
“Come on, Ophelia,” Malcolm says reassuringly. “I promise nothing’s going to happen. I’m just going to take you back to your car.”
My heart pounds as I follow along, convinced that at any step everything could change. He could turn on me. Someone could come after us. Liam was eluding to something. That much I’m certain of. But to go through all this trouble just to set me free again…something’s not right about it.
My anxiety keeps me quiet on the ride home, my senses on hyper alert as I note every last turn the car takes. I’m ready to bolt the moment it goes any direction that is not toward the McDonald’s I parked at.
But to my surprise, Malcolm keeps his word and drops me off at my car. Flashing me a sweet smile as I exit his vehicle.
“So, what now?” I turn back to ask him from the sidewalk, rubbing my arms as I look around cautiously.
“Go home,” Malcolm answers dryly, not looking away from his steering wheel. “Like my father said, your dad has a plan. You just have to wait.”
“What if there’s no time for waiting!?” I shriek back. “What if the Elites kill me before he carries out his little plan?”
Malcolm is unmoved. “Go home and get some rest, Ophelia.”
Without another word, his tires squeal and he’s flying off down the street. I stand and watch as the obnoxious buzz of his car engine drifts further and further away, eventually vanishing altogether.
Not knowing what else to do, I turn to walk back to my car. It’s easy for him to say. Wait. Rest. I can’t do any of these things. Not with all of this hanging over my head.
My dad has it out for the Elites, and not surprisingly they have plenty of skeletons in their closet for him to play with. I’ve seen the rage of their entitlement. No one questions them or fucks with them in any way.
I’d be glad my dad is giving them a run for their money if it weren’t for me getting dragged down into it all. And the fact that his motives are no different than theirs. He messed up, and he’s mad at them for putting him in his place.
I wrap my arms around my chest, shielding myself from the night air chill as I climb back into my car. Everything around me is quiet to the point of being unsettling.
My car engine starts, and I drive back to my house as fast as I can. I’m in desperate need of some place that feels safe. With so many people watching me and keeping tabs on me, I’m not sure such a place exists anymore. But my room is the closest thing I have, so I’ll take it.
All I want is to be curled up under my covers. Now I just have to hope that when I get there, dreams of Emmett don’t come back to haunt me.
17
Chapter Seventeen
My mind is on overdrive as I head home, but I’m relieved to finally understand what my father had to do with the Elites. And what all of it has to do with me now. But there is still a lingering fear that the Hendersons and my father aren’t through with me yet. I’m able to push that further and further away as I get closer to home. At least for now.
I think about how badly I want to be able to ask my mom everything. I know my dad’s side to the story, but I can’t help but wonder what all of that must have been like for her. And I still have no clue what actually caused them to split up. Though I guess a gambling habit that ruined their lives would be reason enough.
As my car pulls into my driveway, I see movement behind the blinds. I consider marching in and asking my mom everything right away, but I’m too tired. I’ve taken in enough for the evening, and I just want to crawl back into my bed.
So, instead, I sneak past my mom and Brendan who are talking in the kitchen, bolti
ng up the stairs into my room.
My heart plummets the moment I open my door. Emmett, Trey and Vincent are all standing right there in the middle of my bedroom, seething with anger.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I stammer nervously. “This is my house. How did you get in!? You can’t be here. My parents are right downstairs. I’ll scream.”
“Where the hell have you been!?” Emmett growls, his nostrils flaring in anger. “We know you met with someone, but we couldn’t track you after McDonalds.”
“I just went for a run,” I offered as innocently as possible. “It’s not my fault you stabbed a faulty tracking device into my body.”
“Bullshit,” he fumes back, racing up to skillfully push me to the wall hard enough to hurt, but without making too loud of a sound.