Fuck it!
“I don’t understand why we have to do this now. Why can’t this wait until after college? You all demand us to do this based on some damn document written before there was even indoor plumbing.,” I huff out and the collective groans of my friends tell me I let the monster win—I fucked up.
The screech of a chair backing out from under the table is the last thing I hear before my world goes dark.
* * *
I wake with a groan,my mouth dry, and my brain jackhammering against my skull.
“Wha- th- -ck wer- -ou think- Wes?” I know it’s Lev speaking, but he sounds like he’s underwater and with each inflection of his voice, the throbbing in my head compounds.
“Shhyou’re beingtooloud to beso damnfaraway,” I mumble, my words slurring together. I don’t know if he can even understand what I just said.
“Don’t shus- me, motherf-, I’m try- to tal- sense int- your -ick as a bric- head,” he continues to mumble and I only catch every other word. “Stupid asshol- want to lose his goddamn -ack right-, out his rabi- ass mind.”
The fog slowly begins to clear, and I can finally see only one Lev when I open my eyes. Before I can ask any questions, the door to whichever room I’m lying in opens and the rest of the guys take up positions around the room.
I croak out, “I know. I let my temper get the best of me.”
Wyatt lets out a laugh that’s more huff than chuckle and says, “Understatement of the century.” I know it’s serious when Wy doesn’t make a joke or any attempts to change the toxic vibe in the air.
Owen is rubbing his hand over his stubbled jaw like he’s trying to wrap his head around this entire situation but ultimately says nothing. It’s Lev who lets me have it.
“You did more than let your temper get the best of you, Wes. You fucked yourself in the ass hard with no Vaseline.”
I’d laugh but between my headache and the rigid set of his posture, I know this isn’t a laughing matter.
“You outright challenged the council’s orders and the bylaws in one damn breath. I’d smack the stupid off you, but I’d say your father already did that.” Lev grimaces, no doubt remembering what was done to me.
My cold hand reaches up to feel the egg-shaped knot forming on my cheek. Swinging my legs over the side of the king-sized bed, I put my left hand out to brace myself, only rising when the stars and spots disappear from my vision. Wy’s strong hand steadies me when I almost stumble. They all know where I’m heading and know all objections will fall on deaf ears.
My head is screaming by the time I reach the mirror in the bathroom. I hear the click of the light switch, as one of them flicks it on so I can properly survey the damage. What stares back at me once my hard gaze peers at my reflection makes the color leach from my face. My perfect face mottled with bruises.Shit! It hasn’t been this bad in a long time. Rotating my head left then right, I take it all in, every single mark. Just as I’m about to finish, that's when I see it, the outline of the Fraternitas emblem, in almost perfect detail, stamped on my right temple. At least now I know why I blacked out. The brute force with which my father struck me, imprinting the shape of the skull and dagger into my skin.
This shit is going to bruise and Coach is going to kill us in practice again this week. Stupid thing to be thinking about, but I can’t try to process the imprint of the ring on my father’s left hand.
“That will be all, please give me a moment with my son.” Speak of the devil and the devil shall appear.
I walk out of the bathroom, fighting dizziness the whole way. Only stopping when I see the asshole come into view.
I start, “Dad I kn—,” but am cut off.
“Wesley Jacob Edgewood, I thought I made myself perfectly clear about what was expected of you as the sole heir to the Edgewood legacy,” he all but growls, his face blooming so red it almost looks purple.
I don’t bother to try and plead my case again, it would only end worse for me. Instead, I steel my spine and listen, attempting to hide the choppy breaths that I’m sure mean I have a bruised or cracked rib.
“But since I obviously haven’t, let me help make it clearer for you, you fucking ungrateful little shit.” He’s across the room before I suck in my next half lungful of air. His long fingers snatch my face between them. His rough hands are almost cold to the touch, a clear contrast from my hot battered skin. Sprays of spit hit my face as he speaks through clenched teeth, “You will choose a fucking potential bride and you will do your part to keep the founding members at the helm of this society. If you have one more outburst like you had upstairs, you will be back at the correction center faster than you can blink. Do I make myself clear?”
I can barely nod in agreement, his grip so tight I can almost feel the bones breaking under the pressure.
Releasing me with a shove, my head smacks against the white painted walls. I can feel the trickle of blood begin to fall and I know the once white wall is now stained red.
Finished with me, he turns and strides toward the door. I don’t dare move from where I am, even as the trickle turns to a steady flow. Head wounds always bleed more, I’m sure I’ll only need a stitch or two.
As he approaches the exit, his tailored jacket-covered arm reaches for the door. His feet halt and just before he pulls it open he turns his mocking grin in my direction and says, “I should’ve made your mother fucking swallow you, you’re a waste of perfectly good sperm.”
With that, the door slams and his words reverberate on repeat throughout the silent but far too loud room.
17
