As if I care if they sue.
"Let me go," I growl, still unsure who even has me.
I lose my opportunity to do any damage when shuffling feet and shouting voices draw my attention. Damn. Several flashlights, harsh warnings, and numerous badges appear, making me drop my head back in defeat.
Ripping free from the loosened grip of my human restraints, I turn around to search for Raya, but she's gone.
"Where the hell did she go?" I ask Jacob.
He motions over his shoulder now, not even bothering to look back. Does no one give a damn that she might die?
"She's fine," he says casually, apparently reading my murderous glare. "They're taking her to the hospital for observation. She could have a concussion, but that's all."
That's all?
Apparently, Jacob feels a concussion isn't too damn serious. I look over just in time to see the ambulance doors closing, and then I rush to grab the first one of my cars that I can maneuver out. Unfortunately, there's no way to get any of them out of the garage.
Her family will probably be there. I'd rather not show up anyhow. They'd want to know the details, and I'd end up getting my ass reamed for simply being the party's host. Not what I need.
I'll just call the hospital. That's the safest.
Fuck it. I'll call a cab.
"She's going to be fine. No serious injuries," Dad says over the phone just as the taxi drops me off in front of my house.
I've called the damn hospital a hundred times, but no one would tell me anything. I went down there, and no one would even let me back to see her. It infuriates me that he calls with information ten minutes after he found out about what happened.
But his words bring an exhale of relief from me. It's almost painful to try to take the next breath. That scared the hell out of me. I've never witnessed anyone getting knocked out and loaded into the back of an ambulance before tonight. I don't particularly want to see it ever again, either.
"They said they couldn't release any information to people outside of her family. How did you-"
"You need to learn how to ask questions. You could try not barking at people the way you are me right now."
Maybe I'm a little worked up right now, but fuck. He would be, too, if he had just watched a house collapse on his neighbor. I cringe a little as I look out the window. How did she get out of there unscathed?
"You need to make this right," Dad says, using his most condescending tone.
"I need to make this right?" I ask in disbelief. "I didn't do a damn thing. I rushed out there to check on her. I yelled for someone to call 911. I-"
"Had the party that you let get of control," he interrupts, not finishing the sentence the way I had intended. Dick. "You're a spoiled, privileged boy with no real understanding of what you do and how it influences the world around you. Not to mention the consequences you have no fear of. Why your grandfather thinks you can run the damn vineyard, I don't know. You can't even run your own life."
Twenty-one, and he still has the gall to call me a boy. It takes a conscious effort not to throw my fist through the wall. It's always the same. If I know so
meone who screws up, I'm just as guilty as they are. How the hell am I responsible for everyone?
"I'm not spoiled, and I didn't-"
"I've got another call. My lawyer. I'll call you back."
He hangs up, not letting me even defend myself. I bet the four frat douchebags that demolished the damn thing will have their fathers explaining the "boys will be boys" bit to anyone who questions them. Unbelievable.
At least my house is now empty. Well, it doesn't have people in it. This party jacked my place up worse than usual. But it'll all be worth it in the end. Right now I'm laying the foundation for future contacts that will be priceless, and Granddad's wines will become global instead of in-state.
Grabbing a fresh glass and a bottle of whiskey, I head back to my room. I never got drunk at the party, but after the night I've had, I might need to remedy that.
My phone rings just as I pour my glass, and I answer quickly when I see my dad's number. We're going to finish this conversation. I can't believe it. Just to be safe, I decide to bypass a hello, and go straight back to what I was saying.
"I didn't-"