His eyes become a little glossy as his expression falls flat. “You want the truth, fine. I told them to memorize your face, if you ever showed up, to make sure no one messed with you and if you had any problems ever, to call the club. I paid them well for the favor, but I also threatened to rip their fuckin’ guts out if they didn’t comply. Like it or not, Princess, you’re my kid, and I protect my family.”
His words hit my heart like an arrow finding its target. I want to scream and cry, lash out at him with ‘why’ questions: Why wasn’t he there? Why didn’t he want us? Why did he hurt everyone? Why weren’t we good enough? Why didn’t he ever come for us, or actually fucking stay and love us?
I’ve wondered those things my entire life, but he doesn’t deserve my questions, and he hasn’t earned my respect to listen to his answers. So, I revert to the only thing that’s ever guarded my heart against being completely shattered by him—my words.
Standing a little straighter, I stare down the man standing in front of me. In so many ways we resemble each other. If he had a female version of himself, it would be me; only I don’t abandon people that I love.
Many men in this area fear him, never being able to figure out what digs deep, they call him the ‘rational’ President. He’s supposedly the one who thinks everything through and never lets a thing get to him. Well, newsflash, I’ve had years to perfect just what to say, so it hits home for him. He doesn’t get off scot-free ripping our family apart with no repercussions.
I guess I really am like him in one way; I’m the strong one. But I’ve had to be.
Mimicking him, I shutter any trace of emotion from my face, and then I let the words fly. “I’m with Viking; he’s the one who actually protects me. I don’t need you; in fact, I’ve never needed you. My mother stuck around and did everything so you could be a piece of shit sperm donor and go off with your buddies, so please, don’t stop now. And while you’re gone, do us all a favor and stop breathing.”
Brently steps beside us, placing his hand on my arm. “Princess, stop it. You don’t know everything.”
My father glances sadly at my brother and shakes his head. “No son, don’t. Just let it go.”
Brently huffs, sending me an irritated glance before letting his hand fall off my arm and moving toward the door.
Glaring spitefully at my father, I practically spit, “I see you’ve turned him into a good little puppet; nice job, Daddy.” I can’t help myself; my brother’s not the man he used to be, and my father does nothing to steer him from the path he’s on. He’s going to get Brently fucking killed.
Brently spins suddenly, striding toward me in a rush, bellowing, “Will you just shut the fuck up for once?”
Viking jumps in front of him, stopping Brently mid-stride in his pursuit of me, “Snake, not trying to disrespect you or get involved in your family business and all, but that’s my Ol’ Lady you’re talking crazy to. I won’t allow it.”
My brother turns toward my father like a good little soldier, waiting for his orders.
“He’s right son; she belongs to him. He deals with her, not you.”
“She’s my fucking sister,” Brently argues, and my dad raises his eyebrows. Irritated, my brother meets my hurt gaze. “Fine, you know what? Fuck it. Princess, you wanna act like a spoiled fucking brat? Well, stay the hell away from me.”
Viking growls, ready to lay into Brently in my defense, but my brother raises his hands and backs up a few steps, then spins around, storming outside.
Stay away from him?But we’ve always been there for each other. He was just as screwed up inside as I was growing up. How did I suddenly become the bad guy in all of this? His words slash me inside like razors carving up my flesh. It takes every ounce of pride to stand tall and not start bawling like I want to. Nothing I said was meant to upset my brother.
My father clears his throat, his gaze peering down at my feet as he mumbles, “Sug’, when you’re ready, we’ll talk.” He takes a deep breath and turns away.
Passing Viking, my dad pauses long enough to rest his hand on Vike’s bicep. I watch intently as he thanks him, expecting my dad to give Viking shit for what just went down, but he doesn’t. They shake hands; a mutual respect exchanged and then my father’s swiftly out the same door as my brother.
He’s gone again.The same as every other time I’ve seen him in my life. He always takes off, never staying and fighting with me like I wish he would.
“Princess.” A raspy grumble comes from the other side of me as Ares angrily follows suit, leaving now that my father’s obviously ready and waiting.
I keep quiet as Viking watches the exchange like a hawk.
After a few moments the bar’s finally empty, minus the nosey bartender who’s stuck cleaning up the huge mess that we’ve made. Viking strides toward me, pulling me into his embrace. His warmth cocoons me, and I break.
I fucking crumble.
The tears come at me with such a powerful force that my legs give out. I could fall to the floor, and at this moment, I don’t care. Everything that just happened with Viking’s dad, all the new information and secrets he was hiding from me, from his brothers. After that huge revelation, there was so much hate and violence; I’ve never seen so much blood before.
The argument with my brother and my father…Brently’s words—I can’t believe he told me to stay away. I love him; I was protecting us. How can he not see that I’m angry to keep my family from hurting?
Sucking in a sob, my heart and body ache so badly, the only comfort I feel is the heat from this man holding me so desperately, his strength promising me that he’ll never let me go. With one arm across my back, keeping me up and against him, he bends a little, tucking his free arm under my butt so he can lift me fully into his embrace.
Complying, I run my hands over his solid chest, wrapping them around his neck and tuck my face against his throat. I’m able to find a sense of peace, being pressed against his heated skin, feeling the pulse beat strongly, reassuring me that he’s safe and not leaving me as well.
“Shhh, Cinderella; I’ve got you, baby,” he rumbles quietly, and I feel him start to walk, carrying me to his hotel room.