"Did you watch the videos?" I asked, my voice quiet, almost gentle. He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, but it was enough.
"Please," he begged, tears streaming down his face. "I didn't know, I didn't know what I was watching. Please don't hurt me. I have a kid, I have-"
"I'm sorry," I said, and I was surprised to find I meant it. "I made a promise to a girl. No one who saw those videos gets to see anything again." I moved quickly, pushing my thumbs into his eye sockets, applying pressure with clinical precision. There was resistance at first, then a sickening give as the delicate orbs collapsed under the force. His screams filled the room, raw and animal, but I didn't stop until I felt the visceral pop beneath my fingers, the wet warmth coating my hands.
When I finally pulled back, he was still screaming, hands clutched to his face as blood and fluid seeped between his fingers. I stood up, a strange calm settling over me. I'd kept my promise. It wouldn't undo what had been done to Cade, wouldn't heal her wounds or erase her trauma. But it was something. A small measure of justice in a world that had shown her none.
I turned to find several of the housemen standing in the doorway, their expressions a mix of horror and something else, respect, maybe, or understanding. And behind them, Nicholas Bale, watching with what looked almost like pride.
"Get him out of here," Nicholas ordered his men, nodding toward the blinded man. "Take him in for more questioning. Find out everything he knows about this 'college kid' and who else might have copies of those videos." Two men moved forward, dragging the still-screaming man to his feet and out the door. Nicholas looked at what remained of ViperChaos, then at his son, who was breathing heavily, knuckles split and bloody.
"Clean yourself up, son," Nicholas told Logan, his voice surprisingly gentle. "We need to move out. I told Lynch I would share what we found."
I didn't wait for further instructions. I turned and walked out of the room, down the stairs, through the filthy flat, and out into the night air. The rain had stopped, but the chill remained, cutting through my blood-soaked clothes to the bone beneath. I stood by the car, letting the cold clear my head. The rage that had driven me up those stairs had subsided, replaced by a strange, detached calm. I'd done what needed to be done. I'd protected Cade in the only way I could, by ensuring that one less person in this world could look at her and see her pain as entertainment. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough until we found Damien McIntyre and made him suffer for every second of agony he'd inflicted on Cade. But it was something.
Logan emerged from the building a few minutes later, his face washed clean of blood but his eyes still burning with that cold fire. He joined me by the car, neither of us speaking for a long moment.
"You okay?" he finally asked, his voice rough. I nodded, the calmness still flowing through me like a drug.
"You?" Logan exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He finally looked up at me and nodded.
“It’s a start,” he said and walked around the car getting into the other side, the door closing with a decisive bang. I nodded, more to myself than anyone else. He was right. It’s a start, but it sure as hell wasn’t over.
The bitter January wind cut through my jacket as I paced back and forth along the perimeter of Covenant House's grounds, phone pressed to my ear, each step crunching in the frost-covered grass. I'd deliberately moved as far from the house as possible while still maintaining a clear view of the living room windows. From here, I could see Luce and Cade curled up onthe couch, a tableau of normalcy that felt both precious and precarious.
"Are you even listening to me, Ryder?" My father's voice sliced through my thoughts, sharp and demanding. "Or are you too busy playing nursemaid to that damaged girl of yours?" I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached.
"I'm listening."
"Then perhaps you'd care to explain why I received an automatic message from Administration informing me that you've missed several classes in the first two weeks of this term? Or why three of your professors have contacted me directly about your absence?" His voice dripped with that familiar blend of disappointment and contempt that had been the soundtrack to my childhood.
"I've been busy," I said, keeping my voice level despite the rage bubbling beneath the surface. "There were extenuating circumstances."
"Extenuating circumstances," he repeated, mockery evident in every syllable. "Is that what we're calling your obsession with the Turner girl now? Extenuating circumstances?"
I stopped pacing, my gaze fixed on the window, where I could see Cade's profile; her face was turned toward Luce as they talked. It had been two weeks since we'd brought her home from that hellhole. Two weeks filled with nightmares and panic attacks and moments of progress so small they'd be imperceptible to anyone who wasn't watching as closely as I was. In that time, I have barely left her side except for moments like this, when someone else could be with her.
"She was kidnapped, raped, and tortured for six weeks," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Or did that little detail slip your mind?"
"Don't take that tone with me, boy." The threat in my father's voice was unmistakable. "I'm well aware of what happened to Miss Turner. The entire Trivium is aware. You’d think this girl was the second coming with the way those bloody High Lords were acting about her. But your responsibilities as a Regent don't simply disappear because your Consort had a difficult time." A difficult time. As if Cade had suffered through a bad flu or a difficult exam period. As if she hadn't been starved and beaten and violated in ways that still had her waking up screaming most nights.
"Fuck your responsibilities," I breathed, the words escaping before I could stop them.
The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. When my father spoke again, his voice had dropped to that quiet, controlled tone that had always preceded the worst punishments of my childhood.
"You seem to have forgotten who you're speaking to, Ryder. Perhaps you need a reminder of the consequences of disrespect." My stomach clenched at the implied threat. "Your mother has been asking about you. I visited her at Lexington yesterday. She was quite upset when I told her you hadn't been to see her in months." Cold sweat broke out across my back despite the winter air.
"Leave her out of this."
"She's still your mother, Ryder. And she's still my wife. What kind of husband would I be if I didn't keep her informed about our son's erratic behaviour? The doctors at Lexington are always so interested in family patterns of instability. Especially after the incident at the end of last year." The threat wasn't even thinly veiled. If I didn't fall in line, he'd use my mother as leverage, would feed the doctors at Lexington stories about my "instability" that would influence her treatment, possibly evenher chances of ever being released. Not to mention using my own mental instabilities to get me put back in Lexington alongside my mother.
“And let’s not forget your dear sister.” He practically spit out the final word, and my eyes flew to Luce through the window. “If you are so willing to, how was it you so eloquently put it ‘fuck your responsibilities’, well then maybe I should start putting in place my backup plan.” The fucking bastard. He knew if using my mother wasn’t enough, then Luce was my biggest weak spot as far as he was concerned.
"What do you want?" I asked, defeat creeping into my voice.
"That's better," my father said, satisfaction evident in his tone. "Friday is our monthly family dinner. You have missed more than enough, and I fully expect you not to miss any more.” I glanced back at the window, at Cade's small form bundled under blankets. She hadn't left Covenant House since we'd brought her back. The thought of leaving her, even for one evening, made my chest tighten with anxiety.
“Ryder? I asked if that was understood. Unless I need to fill your seat with someone else, a possible suitor for Lucida, maybe?”
