Colton’s lips pull back from his teeth, and for a second I think he might actually do it… break his father’s neck right here, right now, and leave his body for the crows.
“You come near her again and I’ll kill you,” Colton says. “I’ll gut you, I’ll bury you, I’ll—”
Harrison laughs, deep and genuine. “That’s the spirit. But let’s be realistic, son. You’re not a killer. That’s Bams department.”
He takes a step forward. Colton doesn’t back down, but his grip on me tightens, and I feel his whole body tense. He’s ready to fight.
Harrison stops three feet away. He tilts his head, and for a second, he looks almost sad. “If she survives, it’ll be the right match for you.”
He glances at me, just once, then back to Colton.
“I’m doing this for you,” he says. “For our family. If you want to play with your toys, fine. But when they start getting in the way of the business, I take them apart. That’s how it’s always been.”
Colton says nothing. His jaw is clenched so tight I’m surprised his teeth don’t shatter.
Harrison sighs, like a man disappointed in his own son. “You want to be the head of Ellis Global? You want to run Westpoint? You have to show them you can control yourself. You have to prove you’re stronger than the weak shit they’re shoving down your throat.”
Colton’s face goes white, then red. “You’re the only weak thing here,” he says, and there’s a crack in the words, a break that scares me.
Harrison smiles. “If that’s true, you know what to do.”
There’s a gunshot in the distance, muffled, and then a man in a black suit steps out from behind a tree, pistol raised. Colton pulls me close, shields my body with his, but Harrison just waves the guard away.
“Put it down,” he says, bored. “We’re done.”
The guard obeys, lowering the gun to his side, eyes never leaving Colton.
“See you soon, Son.”
He turns on his heel, walks away. The guard follows, leaving us alone in the middle of the field, the sky churning overhead.
Colton stands very still. He doesn’t let go of me.
“Are you okay?” I rasp, and it sounds so stupid I want to die.
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Am I okay?” he says, echoing me. “You’re the one who—”
He breaks off, shakes his head. “Never mind.”
We stand like that for a long time, until the wind picks up and I start to shiver.
He looks at me, finally. There’s blood on his face, and a smear of it on his teeth from where he must have bit the inside of his cheek. I reach up to touch it, but he flinches away.
“I’m fine.”
He walks us back to campus in silence. No one stops us. No one even looks. It’s like the field is its own country, and everything that happens there stays there.
When we reach my dorm, Colton stops at the door.
“Go inside,” he says. “Lock it behind you. Don’t open it for anyone.”
I do what he says, because I can’t do anything else.
Inside, I peel off the ruined shirt, throw it in the trash. The blood on my mouth is dry now, caked and bitter. I scrub my hands, over and over, until the skin is red and raw.
I sit on the bed, wrapped in his jacket, and stare at the wall.
Something is happening here.
