Something about going somewhere quiet. No shit, I can hardly hear him.
“Kat.” My name is nearly a curse hissed through the phone with impatience.
“Sorry, Dad. I couldn’t hear you. Say that again?”
“Did you find your mother’s mug?”
My whole body goes cold with a numbing chill. My mother’s mug. I cross my arms over my chest instinctually, hoping I didn’t hear those words. The party is still pretty loud, even in here. Maybe I got it wrong. “What did you say?”
“Did you find your mother’s mug?”
The blood drains from my face and it’s hard to keep my expression neutral. It’s our code phrase. It means I’m in danger.
We made the phrase before my mom died, and just the mention of her makes my stomach sour. My dad has only used it once before while I was at school. I walked out the front doors without telling anyone and came to the club. Everything was fine and it was only a test. Which I’m hoping he’s doing again. Just testing me, even though it would be fucking cruel to do it today.
“I’m already here, Dad.” My voice tightens when I realize that it could be he’s the one in trouble. Something might have happened to him.
“Is there anyone around you who can hear me?” My gaze lifts and locks with Cill, only a few strides away through the threshold. He mouths to me, “Everything all right?” and I can’t answer.
“Kat, answer me,” my father demands at the same time that Cill motions for me to come back to him. I slip closer to the chaos that is the rec room but stay just on the other side of the threshold where most of the noise is blocked.
Cill looks down into my eyes, keeping me there as he asks in a hushed tone, “Are you okay?”
All I can do is answer, “No.”
My father hears me say it too. “Good,” he states over the phone.
I almost correct him to tell him I’m not alone and that Cill may be able to hear, probably everyone else around us too, but Cill takes my phone out of my hand.
His expression turns from concerned to serious in an instant. He’s silent as he raises his hand.
Fear slips down my spine and then over my shoulders, burrowing deeper inside as Cill’s expression hardens. Frozen to the core, all I can do is watch. With Cill’s hand raised, one by one the room is silenced. One by one their eyes move to the VP and then to me when they realize it’s my phone in his hand. The laughter stops. We’re surrounded by his uncle and his dad. Their friends. Members of the club. They’re all friends with my father too. They were friends growing up and now I grew up here. Cill grew up here. That’s how we’re part of the MC. We belong here. I tell that to myself over and over again. I belong here. I’m safe here. I am.
I’ve always been a part of this club, but as the room goes silent and Cill puts the phone on speaker, careful to mute himself first, I feel the walls caving in.
This must be some kind of nightmare.
“The cops are coming,” my father says into the dead silence of the room. If I wasn’t paralyzed with fear, I’d fall over or run. I can barely swallow, let alone move a limb.
“He says the cops are coming,” Cill says, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Kat. You’re going to be safe when the cops come,” my dad continues and I wish I could tell my father he’s on speaker, but he would want everyone to know too, wouldn’t he? If the cops are coming, everyone here should know about it. “Just let them arrest you.” My eyes widen in shock and then my mouth drops open. “They’re going to let you go, but you’re going to be arrested for your protection. You understand me?”
Cill’s dad, the head of the MC, the president, the man in charge, reaches in for the phone. As I peek up at him, his gaze is filled with a hate I’ve never seen from him. My hands tremble and I instinctively take a step back, my shoulders hitting the wall behind me.
It takes Cill wiping my cheek to realize there are tears streaming down my face.
“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this,” I barely get out as Cill’s father turns his back on us and everyone in the rec room moves at the president’s command.
Cill stays in the hall with me, comforting me of all things and as if on cue, the sound of sirens can faintly be heard sneaking in through the open windows.
My heart hammers and I still can’t wrap myself around what’s just happened.
I know, without my father telling me, there won’t be enough time to run. He’s giving me this information with only minutes to spare. My dad isn’t at the party because he knew this would happen and he didn’t want to risk getting arrested.
“He’s a rat,” I whisper as reality grips me and Cill pulls me in close to his chest. “It’s going to be okay,” he says. “I’ve got you.”
Oh, God, how could my father do this?
