Page 3 of Mercy & Malice

How do you run from someone who holds all the power to do whatever they please with zero accountability? Even if I tell my mother, what can she do? My father has been intimidating us from a distance for the last few months since she left him. And he’s restless, like a rattlesnake lurking in the grass, itching to attack its prey. And I fear the next strike will be fatal. Last time nearly was. He beat Mom unconscious and left her in a pool of blood. If she hadn’t made it to the hospital when she did, the outcome would’ve been much grimmer. The recall makes my stomach turn. I’d thought she was dead. And I worry he will complete the job if ever given the opportunity again.

Yet no charges have been filed against him. I think Mom just wanted to get away and be done. But I don’t believe that is possible while living in the same town which is under his jurisdiction. As much as I hate living at the Montclair residence, I am thankful for the protection it’s provided. Because I believe it’s the only reason my father hasn’t escalated yet. He might be the law, but the Montclair family has reach and allies in higher places than my father can even imagine. I don’t care what sleazy moves Donald Montclair has pulled to protect my mother; I just want her safe.

As soon as I arrive at the house, I run inside and slam the door a little too hard behind me. Mom walks around the corner, glancing to her watch. “I was getting worried.”

“I’m fine.” I’m not. “Dad pulled me over.”

Her face pales as she steps closer, her hands tenderly rubbing over my arms. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” Not at all.

She pulls me into a warm hug. “Just keep your distance. He’ll get the message eventually. If not, we’ll see about getting a protective order in place.”

“Like that’ll make a difference.” Dad isn’t going to abide by a law he’s supposed to enforce. If anything, it’ll infuriate him that he has a rule to follow that he doesn’t like.

“We’re safe here, Brooke. I promise.”

Are we though? I haven’t felt safe anywhere since that night. “We have a good bit to do for the winter masquerade. Is it okay if we work on it during school hours?”

“That’s fine as long as no one misses their finals.”

There is someone missing all of them. “Has anyone heard from Micah?”

Mom shakes her head.

“Not even Mr. Montclair? Isn’t his dad worried at all? He’s missed so much school and now it’s the end of the semester. Is he even going to be able to graduate on time?”

“Brooke, don’t worry about Micah. He’s resourceful and can take care of himself.”

“She’s right,” Mr. Montclair chimes in as he walks up beside my mom, gently securing his arm across her shoulder. “My son is capable. You’re wasting your energy worrying about him. When he’s ready, he’ll show his face around here. Until then, focus on enjoying your final year of high school—the best year of your life. It’s only downhill from here.”

I get what he means, high school is alleged to be the most fun and carefree time of life. But in my experience, it’s been anything but easy. Especially for Micah—he’s gone because of me. How can I not worry and just pretend I’m living some spectacular dream? But I can’t say that out loud. My mom doesn’t have a clue what I’ve done. Even if she knows about Mercy, she doesn’t know that I played the game and deeply deceived Micah. Mr. Montclair, on the other hand, is fully aware of the game, having played it himself when he attended Belgrave. However, I don’t know how much he knows about the most recent round of the game, or that one of his sons won everything and the other was betrayed. Although, the man has to be aware that the secret society formally known as the Keepers of Mercy have been disassembled from the inside out. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

“Absolutely.” Mr. Montclair pats my mom softly on her arm, pulling her closer before he releases her. All I can do is stare at the man who whistles a tune as he walks away. He has to wonder where his son is at, right?

“Sweetie, I’m worried about you. Everything that happened with your father was tough and you haven’t slowed down. You went straight into planning the masquerade on top of your studies and work.” Mom folds her arms over her chest, clutching her forearms with her hands. It’s something she does to steady herself.

“I’m fine. There’s not much left to do.” There’s so much left to do.

“Are you sure you don’t want Callie to take over? She said she’d handle everything and do whatever’s necessary to ensure the event goes off without a hitch.”

“You mean the girl who wants to decorate during class, so it doesn’t interfere with her after-school schedule? The same one who hasn’t handled any of the tasks she signed up for? Absolutely not. The winter masquerade is too important. There are students who depend on the funds we raise to supplement their tuition. I’ve got it under control.”

Right? I’m not sure if I believe my own forced declaration or if I simply want to believe I have everything handled. I can’t let her take the project away from me. It’s the thing keeping me distracted more than anything else at the moment.

“Let me know if you need extra help. I could recruit some helping hands.” She gives me a good night kiss then heads off to bed. It still makes me feel a little weird that she moved on so quickly with Mr. Montclair even though I know they were seeing each other before she officially left my father. She just doesn’t know I’m privy to that information. While I did not want her with my dad, I didn’t agree with her cheating. And I still wonder if that’s what set Dad off that night, not that he ever really needed a reason.

Heading upstairs, I linger in the hallway, allowing a few moments to stare at the door that Micah should be behind. His is the room right next to mine, which is both terrifying and thrilling. He might hate me, but I miss him, even if he can be a jackass at times.

After I shower and change into pajamas, I drop into the desk chair and power on my MacBook. I should try and sleep, but I feel very wired and nervy, like my muscles are about to crawl out of my skin if I don’t do something productive. So, I study for my final that is two days away. It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep anyway.

2

BROOKE

“Here you go.” Ivy passes me a paper to-go cup as we walk across the parking lot.

“You’re amazing.” I sip the quad-shot caramel latte, fixed perfectly to my preference, reiterating what a thoughtful best friend Ivy is and what a shitty person I was to her. “I’m not ready to deal with finals yet.”