“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says at last. “There’s no out. This is it. This is your birthright. This is everything you were meant to do.”
He takes a step toward me with his hand outstretched, although I can’t tell if it’s in anger or supplication. I shrink back anyway, turning into myself to get away from him.
“No.”
I don’t follow the word with anything else, and it feels freeing. Like all the ‘no’s’ I’ve never said rolled into one.
That’s when his face shifts from shock to anger. I was waiting for it, but that doesn’t make it any less distressing.
He moves quickly, closing the few feet of distance between us to grab me by the shirt and shake me like an unruly child. I go limp on instinct, hoping he won’t escalate the situation. I can see Colm taking a half step forward, tension written throughout his body, but I shake my head at him as discreetly as I can.
“No? You don’t get to say no to me. You’re mine. I made you. You have a legacy to uphold, otherwise all of this was fucking pointless. Our family has run the Banna for generations and what? You’re just going to be the one weak piece of shit who runs away because he feels like it? No, you’re going to get your shit together, start acting like the man I raised you to be, and take over here so I can go home. And when I die, you can take over the whole thing. It’s the natural fucking order.”
I want to laugh, but it comes out as a sort of wet, sad sound.
“Natural order, Father?” God, I sound unhinged already, even to myself. “You want to talk about the natural order? You wanted Eamon out because he was queer, right? Well, I’m as unnatural as they get. I promise you don’t want me representing your business or your family.”
My stomach twists and bile climbs up the back of my throat. This wasn’t supposed to happen. We agreed I wouldn’t tell him anything about me or Micah, because it would be more likely to provoke a rage. This was all supposed to be as unemotional as possible. My freedom for his.
He stares at me, his face uncomprehending once again. Then his eyes narrow, and the same fury I’m used to seeing takes over. His hand moves to my throat and squeezes. Not aggressively or in blind rage. But cold and consistent, like he’s working with a purpose this time.
Fuck. This may have been a mistake.
It’s barely seconds before black dots are swimming in my vision. He may be getting older, but there’s still a lot of strength left in him and his hand is well on its way to crushing my throat. I try to push him off, but my movements are weak.
I’m weaker than I should be. Just like every time I go toe to toe with him, I’m holding myself back. It’s pathetic, but after all this time, I still can’t bring myself to fully stand up to him.
I can hear the sound of Colm rushing over, cursing as he trips on some loose piece of equipment. He pulls at Patrick, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect. The dark spots get bigger and bigger, and the ground beneath me is starting to sway.
“No,” I croak, barely audible through the iron grip that Patrick has on my throat.
His face is practically purple with rage, but his eyes are cold. I don’t even know how much of the truth he’s put together by what I just said, or if he’s just so pissed that I confronted him in the first place.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t think I have it in me to pull away. At least like this, he’ll leave Micah alone. With me alive, there would always be the chance that he could come for us. This way, Micah will always be safe.
It’s the only decent thing I’ve ever really done for him.
The thought comforts me as a blanket of static drags me down toward the ground.
Bright lights flare, interrupting my peace and piercing my mind. The brightness hurts. I can’t tell if this is aMatrixreborn-into-death situation or if I’m still alive and there are lights now, but I can feel Father’s grip on me loosen with surprise, so my bet is on alive.
As soon as the pressure comes off my trachea, I cough, although it makes my ribs ache where they’re still bruised. It’s enough give for Colm to jerk him back, freeing me from him. Ihit the ground immediately. My legs have no idea what to do. But no one is touching me here, which is a plus.
It is light. Or there are lights, more accurately. Big, bright halogens I didn’t notice before illuminate the space.
Father shoves Colm away from him, both of them breathing hard, but he doesn’t come for me again.
“What’s going on?” he asks, his voice a growl.
I can hear voices from the darkness somewhere, but I can’t pinpoint their location or what they’re saying. We were supposed to be alone, but as soon as my brain connects the dots, I know there’s only one person it can be hiding in the bushes.
That sneaky, conniving little shit.
I’m going to kill him.
Just as I realize what’s happening, Micah comes crashing out of the trees at the edge of the property and runs toward me. Father has his gun in his hand, pointed at him in less than a second.
I make an animalistic noise, reaching toward him, even though I still can’t get to my feet. Everyone else is faster, though.
