“We won’t know for a few days, but hopefully, yeah. We’ll be fine.”
“Your father-in-law made you strip in front of a room full of men. I can’t say I’m okay with that.”
I don’t answer, because he doesn’t need to know how bad it’s gotten. But I must telegraph something of the truth, because his face turns grim.
“Clara, I turned away from what your mom was doing, assuming it was just what happened between a teenage daughter and her mother. I didn’t want to see it for what it was: abuse. It was impossible. There’s no way I could have ended up in the same mess a second time.” Wanting him to stop, I pull away from his chest, but he plows on before I can find the words I need. “I was wrong, and I let you down. I won’t do that again. If you’re in danger, consider me glued to your side until I know you’re safe.”
“Dad—”
“I’m serious. Your mother and I are done. Some space after that announcement is probably good for us both. And your scary father-in-law offered me a room. I’m staying here with you. I won’t let anything happen to you, not again.”
Too many tears keep welling up today. I bob my head, suddenly unwilling to talk him out of this choice, afraid that if I say anything I’ll start weeping like the little girl I used to be, the one I can tell my dad still sees when he looks at me.
The song finally ends, and he leads me to Trips, passing off my hand to him. “Anywhere you two go until the end of this ridiculous wedding, I’m joining you,” he states.
The look Trips gives me says exactly what he’s thinking—his father won’t like that. But tough fucking shit. If it takes a crowd of one to keep the worst from happening while we wait on the cops, then I’m happy to have him on my side.
Chapter 62
Trips
Once the dance floor opens to everyone, I take Clara by the hand and weave through the crowd, looking for Walker.
Instead, I see from across the room someone who shouldn’t be here.
Bryce is more built, and his hair is clippered close to his head, but it’s impossible to forget a face you’ve smashed in. For me at least. But I don’t know what this means. I knew the guys put him on the organ donor list, but that doesn’t explain why the fucker’s here, at our wedding, black-tie and all.
He looks away from whoever he’s speaking to, glancing down a hallway no one should be in—but a flash of coppery hair over a gray bridesmaid dress tells me who’s caught his attention. The fucking disgusting bastard.
Disengaging from his conversation, he follows my sister, and there’s not a moment of hesitation in me. Under nocircumstances am I letting that piece of shit anywhere near my sister. I plow through the crowd, not waiting for anyone to get out of my way, Clara left apologizing for me as I focus where I’m needed most.
So far, this evening has been mostly uneventful, if I ignore the forced nakedness earlier. But honestly, that’s pretty much nothing at this point in our sojourn at my father’s house. No day goes by without at least a little power play from the man. Although it’s unfortunate that Clara’s dad had to see that. It’s also shitty that now he’s glued to his daughter as they trail me down the hall. The rage I’m feeling isn’t something my father-in-law should see in action. Picking up pace now that I’m out of the crowd, I dash after the hint of a shoe skirting the corner to the basement.
A bright shriek ricochets down the hallway from the direction of the gym as Clara rushes up beside me. I run, my newly minted wife keeping pace beside me as we sprint into the mirrored room. It takes only a moment to see what the problem is.
Mattie’s pinned to the ground, Bryce hovering over her, and I lose it. Completely.
Whatever sound I’m making must be freaky as fuck, because I’ve never seen Mattie’s eyes get that big, not even after Clara shot Smith in front of her. I can vaguely hear both her and Clara yelling something, but it’s not important. Not when Clara’s stalker, pedophile ex has my sister under him.
I tackle him to the ground, and unlike last time, he puts up a fight, the muscle he put on not just for show. But I’m not just a loose cannon, not anymore. I’m trained, and even though my blood is roaring in my ears, I’m still present, still awareof every jab and smash against his skin, his blood coating the white of my dress shirt as mine drips onto his.
“Stop, Archie, please stop. Don’t hurt him, please, I love him.”
It takes a moment for Mattie’s words to make it past the roar, but when they do, I stop pummeling the man and instead lock him into a hold, one that I know from experience hurts like a bitch.
“What the hell are you talking about, Mattie? Do you know who the fuck this is?”
Clara’s silence has me twisting so I can see her, two steps inside the door, panting for breath, her face pale under the makeup. Her father moves closer to her, but doesn’t touch her, wary.
I turn back to my sister. “Do you know what he is?” I shout, and Mattie flinches. Shit.
Footsteps race down the hallway toward us, and as much as I hate my father’s guards, right this minute, I’m almost happy to see them.
I want to kill the man squirming beneath me, to squash him like the bug he is, but I shouldn’t do that in front of Mattie. Even if it takes all of my barely trained control to keep me from ending him.
He fucking deserves it.
Falk charges in and yells for everyone not to move, then he steps close to Clara, their muted conversation impossible to hear over Mattie’s angry tears as she begs me to let Bryce fucking Mason go. And I don’t even know what to make of it, my hold squeezing tighter the more upset Mattie gets.
