If I hadn’t been nervous before, that would be cue enough for me to proceed with caution.
Glancing around, nothing else seems ominous besides the fact that the desk in front of me is perfectly clear, no computer, knickknacks, or pads of paper to be found.
The room hums with the lack of conversation, but it’s obvious that Trips’ father is in charge here, and none of us will risk our skin just to fill the void.
He takes a sniff of something dark in a tumbler, his hands still large, but the rest of him slimmer than when I met him thiswinter, his linen coat slightly loose around his frame. “You’re back,” he states.
Trips says nothing, and I follow his lead.
His father turns, his face in shadow with the bright sun behind him. “I’m disappointed. We had an agreement. A generous one, with time to say your goodbyes and adjust to the changes in your lives. It should have been enough, but you know, Archie, that trust is earned. You didn't have it. And you two spit on my generosity. Running means there will be no more carrots for the two of you. Only sticks.”
He strolls across the room, his feet silent on the thick rug, coming up to me, ignoring Trips completely.
The snap of my head to the side, my cheek stinging, tears in my eyes as I try not to react to the slap, it’s all a surprise.
I knew he was violent. I knew he was dangerous. But I didn’t expect the first greeting I got from the man to be a beating.
Blinking back tears, I look up at the man before me, Trips yelling and struggling across the room, the reason for two guards and handcuffs suddenly clear.
“I warned you there would be consequences, Archie. This is on you.”
I see the second slap coming, heavy from his other hand, and I lock my jaw, letting it hit, this one stinging enough to tell me his ring cut my cheek. But I don’t cry out. It won’t help. Not with him.
Based on everything I know about the man in front of me, nothing will stop him but some internal measure that no one else is privy to. So, I scrunch my hands in my skirt and force myself to breathe before I move my head back to center, the trickle of blood dripping down my cheek giving me something to focus on besides the pain.
He tuts. “I hope you heal quickly, girl. You have a rehearsal dinner to attend tomorrow.” Then his thumb digs into the hickeyon my neck, a yelp barely caught in my throat. “And cover this nonsense up. You look like a common whore.”
I risk a glance at Trips, and he’s straining against the hold of the other two men. I purposely take a deep breath and let it out, not wanting him to get lost in the rage. He can’t. I need him here. All of him. I can’t do this alone.
Trips’ dad pulls out his phone and taps something out, the door opening a moment later, a harried looking man pushed in before two other guards. Then the one on the left looks up, and I can’t hide the shiver that slides through me. Crazy eyes, a twisted smile, and a sword coated in blood. A body on the floor soaked in rusty red. A body upright and stalking toward me, vengeance in his eyes.
“Easy, Smith,” the guard Falk barks, but the man just bares his teeth across the room.
The second his hands latch onto my arms, I struggle, Trips breaking free for all of two steps before he’s yanked back. Then I’m hoisted onto the bare desk, the harried man standing by my feet while the unknown new guard pins my arms to the wood and the smiling maniac I thought I’d killed presses a gun under my chin.
“Now, now, Ms. McElroy.” The smooth timbre of Trips’ dad has more shivers following the first set. “Smith here desperately wants a reason to kill you, and honestly, I can’t blame him. So please lay still and let the doctor do his work.”
I can barely breathe for fear of Smith’s trigger finger, so when my skirt is flipped up and my panties yanked down, I don’t risk moving my head an inch to see what’s going on. I have an idea, and it’s one we planned for, but I thought we’d have more time. It's too much, too soon, but I can’t escape. I walked into this. I came back, knowing what was waiting for me.
The office door clicks again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remind myself that sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war. That even if it feels like I’m giving up, I’m still fighting.
The doctor’s voice is soft, his touch shaky. “There may be some discomfort,” he says, something ice-cold slipping into me. Thirty-seven unbearable seconds later, there’s a pinch and an internal spasm, then he removes the speculum.
“There might be some spotting,” the doctor says. “Ibuprofen has the best results for discomfort.” He slips my panties back on, pulling my skirt down, like that fixes what he just did to me. Like a touch of modesty counters taking my choices from me.
Tears that I don’t want to exist trickle over my cheeks, and the gun under my chin digs in harder.
“How long until she can get pregnant?” Trips’ monster of a father asks, like he has a right to my body. Like I’m another pawn in his game.
And I am. I set myself on his board.
“Technically, immediately. But it often takes several months to conceive, even at her age.”
“You’re dismissed.”
Another click sounds, and I force myself to open my eyes, Smith’s fury licking at my skin. Shifting just my eyes, scared to move more, the first person I see is Trips’ brother Trevor, his smile familiar, his eyes bright like he’s just gotten an exciting present. Scanning the guards, I note Falk looks sick across the room, but still has a tight hold on Trips, whispering in his ear, hopefully working to keep us both from being shot. And Trips’ father just takes another sniff of his drink, although a small smile curls his lips when he sees my tears.
“So, girl, if you remember our prior deal, you were to give me a grandson. I’m not sure I trust my son with the task. He’s not the most obedient. I allowed him too much leeway as a child. That’s my mistake, and I’ll own up to it.” He takesanother sniff, not hiding the way he scans my body, still pinned to his desk by unseen hands and a gun to my head. “Why he’d want an inconsistent, fickle girl like you when there are women clamoring to become a loyal Westerhouse is yet another disappointment. But I love my son, so he’ll get what he wants. Even after everything you two have put me through. I would have assumed it was your intelligence that drew him, but, well, you’re here, aren’t you?”
