"Do you really think you can come in here and dictate terms to me? After everything you've done?"
"What I've done?" My voice rose despite my efforts to keep it under control. "You're the one trying to destroy an innocent woman who's already been through hell!"
"Innocent?" He scoffed, moving to the bar cart to refill his glass. "That girl is many things, but innocent isn't one of them. She's a scholarship fraud who manipulated her way into a legacy position. The Trivium has rules, Ryder. Rules that even I must abide by."
"Bullshit," I spat. "This has nothing to do with rules. This is about control. This is about punishing me because I stood up to you when you tried to hurt Luce." My father's expression hardened at the mention of Luce's name.
"Ah, yes, sweet little Lucinda. Another disappointment. Stephen coddles her, just like your mother coddled you. Look how well that turned out."
I took a step closer, the mention of my mother sending a fresh wave of rage through me.
"Leave her out of this. Leave them both out of this."
"Or what?" He set his refreshed drink down and closed the distance between us, his height still allowing him to look downat me despite my own six-foot-two frame. "What exactly will you do, Ryder? Go back to Lexington? Because that can be arranged. One call about your deteriorating mental state, your violent outbursts, your obsession with this Turner girl..." The threat hung in the air between us, heavy with implication. Lexington. The place where I'd spent six months of my life in a drugged haze, trapped and helpless while he maintained complete control over my mother's care. The place he'd used as leverage against me for years.
"You're forgetting something," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I'm a Regent now. I have power of my own."
"Power?" He laughed again, circling back to his chair with the casual confidence of a man who knew he held all the cards. "You have the illusion of power, son. A temporary position granted to you by an organisation that answers to me and men like me." He sat down, crossing one leg over the other. "You've forgotten who controls whom in this relationship."
The words struck like a physical blow, echoing the threats he'd made about Luce a month ago. I could feel my control slipping, the familiar red haze descending around the edges of my vision.
"Drop the charges," I repeated, each word clipped and hard. "Cade has done nothing to deserve this."
"On the contrary," my father replied, leaning back with that infuriating smile. "She's done everything to deserve it. Seducing my son, turning him against his family, interfering with Trivium business..." He waved a dismissive hand. "The girl is a problem, and problems must be dealt with."
"She didn't seduce me," I growled. "If anything, it was the other way around. We targeted her, Logan, Cole, and I. We manipulated her into becoming our Consort."
"And yet here you are, begging for her freedom like a lovesick schoolboy." He shook his head, disappointment etched in everyline of his face. "I raised you to be stronger than this, Ryder. To understand that people are tools to be used, not treasures to be protected."
"You didn't raise me at all," I shot back. "You abandoned me to nannies and boarding schools while you built your precious empire. The only time you ever took an interest was when I threatened to embarrass you or you wanted a new punching bag."
My father's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes hardened.
"And now you're embarrassing me again. Coming here, making demands, throwing tantrums like a child." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "You'll learn your place soon enough, boy. On your knees before me." The words hit me like a physical blow, a twisted echo of what he'd said about Luce at that disastrous dinner: the same possessive, controlling language, the same implication of ownership and submission. My vision tunnelled, rage building in my chest until I could barely breathe.
"You can't have her," I managed to say through gritted teeth. "Cade doesn't belong to you."
"Not yet," he agreed, his smile turning cruel. "But she will. The Hole has a way of breaking even the strongest spirits. And once she's there, who do you think will have the authority to determine her treatment? Her privileges?" Cold dread washed over me as I realized what he was implying. My father, with his Trivium connections, could actually have control over Cade's life in that hellhole. The thought of her there, alone and at his mercy, made me physically ill.
"She's already survived torture," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "She's stronger than you know."
"Everyone breaks eventually," he replied with casual certainty. "And I'll make sure she does, thoroughly and publicly, if you continue this defiance." He leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "In fact, I think I'll take a special interest in her case. Ensure she receives the full Hole experience."
"What the fuck does that mean?" I asked, though part of me didn't want to know.
His smile widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he saw the fear beneath my anger. He sat forward as he spoke.
"It means, my dear boy, that if you don't fall in line, I'll see to it personally that your precious Consort is fucked by a different inmate every night of her miserable existence. I’ll make sure she screams your name as she begs them to stop. And if you think those few videos circulating on the web are bad enough, I will have every single degrading thing done to her filmed in high definition. I will build her own fucking fan page of videos, and I will make you watch as I have you locked back up in Lexington."
Something inside me snapped. Before I could think, before I could stop myself, I lunged across the space between us, my hands closing around his throat. The whiskey glass shattered on the floor as I slammed him back into the chair, a primal roar tearing from my throat.
"I'll kill you," I snarled, my fingers digging into his flesh. "I swear to God, I will fucking end you if you touch her." For one glorious moment, I saw genuine fear in my father's eyes, the realisation that his control over me had limits. Then the door burst open behind us, and security guards rushed in, pulling me off him with brutal efficiency. I fought against their grip, blind with fury, as my father straightened his tie and collar with trembling fingers.
"Get him out of here," he rasped, his voice rough from the pressure of my hands. "And call ahead to the Trivium. Tell them to expect trouble."
The guards dragged me toward the door, my struggles futile against their combined strength. But I wasn't done. Not yet.
"You come near her," I shouted, twisting in their grip to lock eyes with my father, "you even think about her, and I will burn everything you've built to the ground. I will destroy every deal, every connection, every fucking thing you care about. And then, when you have nothing left, I'll come for you." My father's face was flushed, whether from my attack or from rage, I couldn't tell. But his eyes were cold, calculating, already planning his next move.
