I pulled out my phone again, typing a quick message to
Logan:
Need you home. Now.
"You realise what this means," Cole said quietly as I set my phone down. "Damien isn't just still out there. He's actively trying to hurt Cade. These videos, the sightings near Regents, he's not running. He's taunting us." The realisation settled over me like a shroud, cold and suffocating. Cole was right. Damien wasn't fleeing; he was playing with us. With Cadence. Continuing to torture her even from a distance.
"Then we end his fucking game," I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous register. "We find him, and we make him pay for every second of pain he's caused her. Every tear, every scream, every nightmare. He will beg for death long before we're done with him."
Cole's eyes met mine, and in them I saw the same cold fury that burned in my veins.
"Yes," he agreed simply. "We will."
The chandelier in my father's dining room cast everything in harsh light, making the crystal glasses sparkle as if mocking me. I drummed my fingers against the polished mahogany table, counting down the minutes until I could escape this farce of a family dinner. I had been here two hours already and could tell that my bastard of a father was trying his best tobait me. My phone vibrated in my pocket, probably Logan with an update on the Damien situation. I knew that he was meeting with Killingham tonight. But I couldn't check my phone, not with my father's hawk-like gaze tracking my every movement.
"Thomas Blackwood is proving difficult," my father announced, slicing into his steak with surgical precision. "His lawyers are threatening a full investigation into his son's death." I rolled my eyes, unable to contain my contempt.
"Shocking. Who could have predicted the father of a dead psychopath would be upset?" My father's knife stilled.
"This isn't a joke, Ryder. The Blackwood family has considerable influence, and your involvement has complicated matters unnecessarily."
"My involvement?" I laughed, the sound hollow in the cavernous dining room. "The guy was beating his girlfriend black and blue. What happened to him was karma." Luce shifted uncomfortably beside me, her eyes fixed on her barely touched plate. She had always hated these dinners as much as I did. Her father, Stephen, shot me a warning glance across the table.
"Perhaps we could discuss something else," Stephen suggested, his voice carrying that carefully diplomatic tone he always used around his brother. "Business matters aren't appropriate for dinner conversation." My father's lip curled.
"Everything about this family is business, Stephen. Something you've never quite grasped." He turned his attention back to me.
"The Trivium expected better from you. From all of us. Your recklessness with the Blackwood boy has cost us significant political capital."
"He was a girlfriend-beating piece of shit," I repeated, stabbing a potato with unnecessary force. "The world's better off without him." Luce's knuckles went white around her fork. Iknew that look; she was trying desperately not to speak, not to draw my father's attention. Smart girl. Safer that way.
"Your moral crusades are irrelevant," My father continued, swirling his wine with practiced nonchalance. "What matters is the fallout. The Trivium doesn't appreciate having to clean up your messes. I know several members of the inner circle who are not pleased that you went beyond your assigned actions.
“Funny,” I said with a smirk, ”Because I know a High Lord who didn’t seem to care that the world is down one more arsehole."
“Keep smiling, boy,” my father snarled, “Old snakes have good memories.”
I bit back a retort about the weird phrase. There was no point in antagonising him further, not when I needed to get back to Cade. My chest tightened at the thought of her, alone at Covenant House with only Cole to watch over her. I was apprehensive, not knowing what was going on, and every minute I spent in this hellhole was a minute I wasn't protecting her.
Stephen, ever the peacemaker, cleared his throat.
"Luce, how is Max doing? I heard he’s looking at joining his father’s company over the Summer." I snapped to attention, my protective instincts flaring. "Max? As in our Max?" Luce shot her father a betrayed look.
"Dad, seriously?"
"You two have got close?" I pressed, half-rising from my chair. “Do I need to have words with him if he thinks he’s gonna be your boyfriend?”
“Geez, Ryder, no.” Luce’s face went bright red. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
"Damn straight he’s not," my father interjected, his voice dropping to that dangerous register I knew too well. "No niece of mine will be whoring herself out to some campus nobody."
The room went still. Luce's face drained of colour, and Stephen's expression hardened into something I rarely saw there, pure, unfiltered rage.
"That's my daughter you're talking about," Stephen said quietly. "And she's an adult who can make her own decisions." My father waved a dismissive hand.
"She carries the Purcell name. That comes with responsibilities, expectations. We have standards in this family."
"Standards?" I couldn't help the bitter laugh that escaped me. "That's rich coming from you." My father's eyes narrowed, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he turned his attention back to Luce, who seemed to be trying to make herself as small as possible in her chair.
