Page 111 of Veiled

Not wanting to distract from the story James is telling, I push back my chair and lean toward Aiden, whispering to tell him I’m running to the restroom and will be right back. Gods know I don’t want to risk getting up during the ceremony, not with the spotlights sweeping the room for each recruit as they walk to the stage for their track to be announced.

With every step I take away from the atrium and down the long, empty hallway, I realize just how loud it had been in there—voices stacked on top of each other, everyone shouting to be heard over the next table.

I’m still adjusting to the quiet when I round a corner and slam into a solid body dressed in a perfectly tailored suit.

“Oh, sorry. Are you—” the voice cuts off at the same time realization strikes me.

Lucas.

“What have I told you about watching where you’re going, boy?”

Shit. Shit. Double Shit.

Lucas’s dad. My dad's good friend.

“Well, well,” Mr. Mercer says, a slow smile slicing across his face. “If it isn’t Little Criminal Corvin.”

There is no point in trying to argue my innocence, not when he was the prosecutor in charge of Matt’s and my cases. The man blatantly ignored every piece of evidence that would have proven all I had endured, including photos Matt had taken of my injuries over the last thirteen years.

I try to steady my voice, knowing full well Mr. Mercer could fund this entire event on his own with the money he’s made as the most ruthless attorney. “If you’d excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

Lucas steps out of my way, but his dad doesn’t budge.

When I try to step around him, his hand clamps on my arm with a ferocity rivaling my father’s. Pain sparks up my bicep, hot and immediate.

“He misses you, you know,” he says.

A lie. Or worse—something he actually believes. My father only misses the parts of me he could break. The parts he could use. The parts that paid his bills while he drank away every penny he earned, but he was good at playing the loving father in public when it suited him.

“Excuse me—” I try again, tugging my arm back, but his grip tightens, the pressure sharp enough that I know, without question, I’m walking out of here with a bruise.

His other hand comes up toward my chin, intent on forcing my gaze up to him, as if I owe him the dignity of eye contact.

This time, instinct wins. I jerk back before he can touch me. His expression curdles with irritation, disgust twisting the edges of his mouth. “You’d think after I kept you and your little friend out of prison, you’d learn to show a little gratitude.”

My stomach drops. The walls feel like they are distorting, the music, the laughter I had just been a part of now feels miles away, and my pulse pounds like a drum. It’s like the world kept spinning and left me here, pinned under the weight of these men and all I thought I escaped.

His grip tightens again.

“I…need…to go,” I force out, each word choked between shallow breaths.

Lucas leans against the wall, watching like this is his favorite form of entertainment. “Always so helpless,” he mutters.

Something in me snaps. I spent far too long being helpless, but I refuse to be a scared little girl anymore.

Not for my father.

Not for Mr. Mercer.

And sure as fuck not for Lucas.

I twist my arm, not hard, not violently, but just the right angle, slipping out from under Mr. Mercer’s hand the way I learned in Combat Class. His fingers try to regain their hold, but as soon as my arm is free, I run as fast as I can in these four-inch heels.

I can hear their voices behind me, but I am too focused on making it to the bathroom to pay them any mind.

Shoving through the door, my hands shake so hard the metal latch rattles as I lock it behind me.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been gone, but I know I need to get back out to Aiden and my friends. Gods only know what Aiden thinks is taking me so long.