“He’s loving that.”
My limbs finally obey, and I stand from the table, unable to handle another moment. People fill the halls, and all of them have received the same messages. I try to tune them out, but they’re everywhere. When I reach our hall, I expect to finally be alone, but I find Parker waiting for me next to the remnants of his smashed cell phone. It wasn’t so long ago that he was my best friend and I could lean on him. Now he looks at me like I’m something on the bottom of his shoe.
His lip curls. “She fucking knew what you did, didn’t she?” he asks.
There’s no reason to lie. The truth is playing on repeat on everyone’s phone.
“Yes.”
His hands ball into fists, and he steps toward me. “And you just let her go? You didn’t warn any of us?”
Parker is a big guy. I might be tall, but he towers over me, especially now that he’s angry. Not only that but he’s also a tank and is well within his ability to seriously fuck me up. I’m almost relieved to have some outlet for the disgust I feel with myself. He steps forward like he’s going to, but his fist never connects. He stops just short and instead spits at my feet.
“I fucking hate you, Soren. Stay the fuck away from me if you know what’s good for you.” Unlike my brother, he doesn’t wait for an answer, but I nod anyway. “Oh, and Soren?” He turns back to me.
I turn to look at him.
“If she’s not okay. If we don’t find her? You’re going to pay.”
I already am.
CHAPTER 2
SOREN
Parker is gonefor a full minute before I can move, but mercifully, the hall stays empty this time. None of the other guys have a reason to be here. Shaking, I make my way to my bedroom. The apartment my brother and I share is destroyed and has been since she left. If he did it to punish me, he failed on this one. I really don’t care. Once inside my room, I lock the door.
Pain, betrayal, and hatred so deep I can’t bear it all run through me. I had ended things with Arabella a hundred times over, but there was a time I believed she had feelings for me. It’s clear now that she only ever used me because sharing that video was so sick it could only be something you would do to an enemy. The video is deleted from my phone, but even alone with myself, I still hear my own grunts.
“Fuck!” I scream, digging into my hair as if I could remove the memories from inside.
I’m a caged animal, left alone by my keepers. I pace the room, a fire burning under my skin. Every single person who would want to help me is gone. She made sure I lost everyone. I showered after what she did to me, but I haven’t climbed back in for days. Turning the water on as hot as possible, I scrub everyinch of my skin until it’s raw. There’s no improvement. This isn’t the type of dirt you scrub off.
My phone buzzes, and rather than ignoring it as I had been, I open it immediately, fearful there’s more to be seen. Instead, it’s a text from my father. He must have realized I won’t be joining them for Christmas.Dammit.
Dad: Your brother is going to get his act together, or he’s going to learn a very hard lesson. I’m sending Dr. Gallows to give you a physical. You fucked the girl in that video without a condom.
My father raisedme to be the perfect avatar for the Rook brand, and that has never mattered to me. For the first time, I’m ashamed of my image, ashamed that my father saw the video. A fucking condom. How long did he watch to notice I wasn’t wearing one? For the first time in a long time, my thoughts turn to permanent escape. I don’t want to be in this body anymore or feel the way I do. My head is so fucked up lately, I didn’t even notice I wasn’t wearing a condom. Maybe I should cut off my own dick rather than peeling off my skin.
There has to be some distraction, anything that can stop the screaming. The TV won’t cut it, I can’t go on social media after today’s text, and no one would pass the time with me other than my rapist. Hours pass in a slow torture until finally someone knocks. I’m excited for half a second before I remember what my father said. I don’t rush as I head to the door, and that’s for the best because when I open the door, I find it’s Dr. Gallows.
He looks quite different from the man I’ve known for years, but I guess he’s getting older now. He’s not our normal family physician, but he comes around for more sensitive issues.
“Soren?” he asks, brow arching, wondering why I’m not letting him in.
“Of course. Sorry, Dr. Gallows.” I step to the side in invitation.
The newcomer forces me to look at this place with fresh eyes, and the mess suddenly looks a lot worse. I worry how much that says about my mental state as I lead him to the common area. My once pristine shelves are knocked onto the floor, pages ripped and scattered across the space. Orion can really get on a tear when he’s upset.
“How are you feeling?” he asks with a pointed look around.
“I’m fantastic. Is that all you needed?” He eyes me with pity rather than annoyance, and that’s almost as bad as knowing people are still watching that damn video.
“No, first this,” he says as he hands me a cup, asking for my piss.
I nod and move to the bathroom, quickly getting it over with. When I return, he’s already set up his paraphernalia on the table and is waiting for me with a syringe in hand. I dutifully sit and quietly wait as he takes my blood.
“How long has this been going on?” he asks when the needle pierces my skin.
