I’ve seen what happens when someone challenges my father’s rules. The aftermath isn’t something you forget. So, I toe the line. Smile when I’m supposed to. Hide the cracks beneath the surface. Rook? He was never one to hide. And my dad doesn’t forgive rebellion. Not from anyone. Not even his own family.
That Christmas was proof of that. Rook… I… We crossed a line that almost got us both killed and tore this family apart. That night humiliated me. I couldn’t sleep for months after, couldn’t stop thinking about what we did, and I’m only just feeling like I’m starting to move on from it. But for the first time in two years, we’re only now allowed in the same breathing space as one another, and I can feel it all over me. It’s all crashing down around me with every inhale.
I wonder where he’s been or where my dad forced him to go. The question won’t leave me alone, gnawing at the edges of my mind, but deep down, I know it weren’t good. I want to ask him. God, I want to talk to him so badly. But I can’t. I shouldn’t. Things aren’t the same between us anymore.
He’s not my big brother.
He’s… something else.
Something forbidden.
Something I shouldn’t even be thinking about.
But it wasn’t just about me or what I felt. It was about Rook. Two years ago, he put me in an impossible position. He askedme to leave with him. To be with him. Not as his sister—as something more. I told him no, in a harsh way. Harsher than it should have been.
Words spilled from my lips like poison. Words I can never take back. Not because I didn’t want to leave with him. Deep down, I did. I wanted to leave this prison of a life behind, but I was just… so fucking confused. One minute he was my big brother, my entire world, but the next he was looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered, the only thing he could ever love, asking me to break every rule we’d ever lived by.
He thought it could work; thought we could just run and leave all of this behind. But I knew better. My dad would never let it slide. He’s far too powerful. He wouldn’t just send Rook away. He’d make sure Rook was gone—for good. Dead. He wouldn’t give a shit what his wife had to say. When my dad see’s red, it’s game over. Everything else comes after.
And I couldn’t let that happen.
If I said yes, I wouldn’t just lose Rook for a while. I’d lose him forever. I wouldn’t see him at Christmas or hear his voice again. So, I made the only choice I could. I shut him out. Cut him off. I fucking hurt him. I didn’t choose him.
I hope one day he can get past the damage and forgive me. I wish we could rewind and change everything that shattered us. I miss him so fucking much.
After some time of lingering at the archway, I force myself to move. The sharp click of my tall heels against the glittering black tiles cuts through the hum of conversation, drawing every eye.
Except his.
Rook is still facing away, one hand gripping the edge of the counter as he pulls off his helmet with the other. I catch the tousle of his dark brown hair beneath it, but I tear my gaze away, forcing myself to look at my dad who’s watching me closely, too closely. His stance is tense, his expression unreadable and cold, but I can feel the tension rolling off him in waves.
When I reach him, he stretches a big, tattooed arm out, tucking me against him in a way that feels more suffocatingly protective than affectionate as his lips press against my forehead.
“Merry Christmas, princess,” he murmurs low.
I force a tight smile, the words tasting strange on my tongue as I reply, “Merry Christmas, Dad.”
But I can’t stop myself, my attention moving back to Rook. He hasn’t turned, his broad back to me as he leans casually against the counter, talking quietly to our cousin, Jack. His voice rumbles, low and smooth, the kind that makes the room feel smaller, heavier. Then he moves, sweeping his tattooed fingers through his long, dark strands and the sight shouldn’t make my stomach flip, shouldn’t make my throat feel like it’s closing, but it does.
Get it together, I tell myself. I curl my fingers into fists at my sides, willing myself to calm down. But the harder I try to pull myself together, the more I realize I’m unraveling, piece by piece.
“No Blaise tonight?” my dad asks, his voice cutting through the room loud enough for everyone to hear.
My body tenses, stiffening like I’ve been caught doing something wrong. The mention of him makes me uneasy, but in front of Rook? That’s a whole other storm waiting to happen.
I don’t know if Rook knows about Blaise, but the way his head turns slightly at the name tells me he’s paying attention now. My stomach tightens, anxiety clawing at me. Rook’s never handled the idea of me being with someone else—he’s always been jealous, possessive, unhinged even, making people disappear or hurt. The thought of me being forced into something I don’t want, or worse, with someone who isn’t him, has always set him off in ways that makes him seem insane.
Blaise is from a smaller biker gang in the city, not even close to ours in power or reputation. But they’ve always been on good terms with my dad, and a couple of months ago, my dad decided it was time to start parading me around, setting me up with men who met his standards. Blaise stuck. Not because I wanted him to, but because it kept my dad off my back.
And now? Things are… comfortable. Not love. Not even close. But it’s something that’s manageable. Something that keeps my dad from pushing harder. Or so I thought.
I drop my eyes, my fingers twisting at the soft fur on my sleeve as I mumble, “No, he’s working late.”
The words feel heavy in my mouth, and I keep my gaze fixed on some meaningless point in the distance, avoiding everyone’s eyes.
“That’s a shame, I would have liked to have seen my son in law on Christmas Eve.”
My eyes close, the unease creeping up my spine and when I open them again, I notice Rook’s jaw ticks, the muscle flexing in distain before he looks forward again. My dad’s alreadypushing stupid buttons, wanting a reaction. We’ve been here for two fucking minutes.
