Page 39 of Rogue’s Promise

“Father!” Everest roars, but Nicholas is already on me. A fist buries itself in my stomach, stealing every scrap of air from my lungs. I fold forward, choking, the broken glass grinding deeper into my palm as I try to brace myself. Another hit catches my jaw. My teeth snap together, copper flooding my mouth, and the room fractures into bursts of chandelier light and red wine.

Hands grab at Nicholas, most likely Everest’s as no one else would dare interrupt Nicholas in a rage. It doesn’t make any difference. Nicholas is unmovable, murder sparking through his blue eyes.

“You ungrateful little bastard,” he snarls, grabbing my T-shirt and tossing me aside like I’m nothing. My body hits the floor, the impact jarring my spine, but I barely feel it over the agony in my hand, my ribs, and my face. Nicholas is back on me in a second, looming above me with hatred twisting his face. Everest is fully shouting now, his voice raw in a way I’ve never heard before. Somewhere behind Nicholas, my mother is crying, quietly of course.

I should be afraid. I should regret lashing out, but I don’t. A sliver of pride works its way through me, drawing out a small smile just before I spit blood into Nicholas’ face.

“Your son will always love me, Nicholas.” I half groan, copper curdling in my throat, but the whitewash of fear that passes Nicholas’ face is worth it.

Beneath the blood I spat and the trickle seeping from his hairline, I watch the exact moment that he knows what it is to feel fear. To know that despite all of his best efforts, he will never beat me. That split second of defeat is so profound, so painfully satisfying, that a laugh tries to leave me. It comes out wet and broken, further staining my lips red before Nicholas’ fist descends again, and everything goes dark.

Chapter Twenty

My entire world narrows to the sound of Cody’s body hitting the floor. After that, time and movement fracture around me in blurs of panic. My father’s dress shoe slamming into Cody’s ribs. His mother’s gasp as she uselessly stands and watches. Red wine seeping across white linen, a dinner party ruined before it had barely begun. Then there’s Cody on the floor. Even passed out, there’s a defiant curve to Cody’s split lip, a small smile at his act of rebellion. He’s finally made the monster who hurt him bleed.

I move before my father can descend again, also noticing that smug smirk. Grabbing the back of his jacket, I bark orders in the same harsh tone he taught me. Kingsley appears in the doorway, his face pale as he ushers Marianne out of the room. Then streams of security appear, although they’re not focused on protecting Cody’s limp body. They rush towards me, prying my hands from my father and creating a wall around him until he regains some composure. Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his blood-stained hair, he spears me with a look of disappointment.

“Get him out of my house,” he grinds out through his teeth before turning and striding away. His guards trail behind him, leaving me to sink to my knees.

“Jesus Christ, Code,” I whisper, my hands hovering over his body. His cheek is already swelling, blood spills from his lips, and the hand curled against his chest is glittering red from the shards of glass piercing his skin. Despite the panic shredding through my chest, I sigh. “I hope it was worth it.” There’s a small shift of his head, a flutter behind his closed eyelids.

“It was,” Cody breathes, the sound barely audible before his head goes limp again. Shaking my head, I lift him from the side my father didn’t kick, trying to jostle him as little as possible as I carry him through the manor. No one comes to our aid. No one asks if I need help, if he’s okay, if they should call a doctor. Aside from the driver, who opens the rear door for me to slide Cody inside, no one cares. And I add every single one of them to my shit list.

Easing his head onto my lap, I bite down on the inside of my cheeks as the Sedan carries us back to Hollowbrook. I can’t take my eyes off his face, his lashes resting against bruised skin, his jaw slack as if he knows he’s in safe hands now. Cody will probably see tonight as a victory. I see it as another feather in my father’s hat. A quick, impulsive strike won’t keep him down long enough.

No, to hit my father where it really hurts will take time. I may seem complicit for now, but that’s because I’m playing the long game. That’s because I’m trying to keep Cody as far away from him as possible until the time is right. I’m not going to smash my father over the head with a wine glass and think that’s good enough. I’m going to destroy everything he’s ever built, dismantle the luxurious life he is far too comfortable in, make him feel every ounce of pain he’s caused over the years. And the best part is, he won’t even see it coming.

The next hours blur from one emotion to the next. Relief at arriving back at Hawthorne House, worry at how still Cody is laid on his bed, impatience at how long the private supposedly on-call doctor takes to arrive, and fury at the diagnosis. Bruised ribs, a fractured cheekbone, lacerated hand. The only small grace I suppose is that Cody had the good sense to use his less dominant hand, meaning when he’s ready, he’ll still be able to paint.

Once we’re alone again, I sit on the edge of Cody’s bed until dawn bleeds through the curtains. He sleeps badly. Every few hours, I wake him with my hand on his shoulder and my heart lodged in my throat, forcing him to sip water and take the pills the doctor left behind. Sometimes he curses me. Sometimes he stares through me as if he’s still on the dining room floor. Just before sunrise, his uninjured hand slides across the sheets until his fingers brush mine and gently tug me to lie down by his side. I hold him tenderly, and finally, a peaceful sleep claims us both.

I stay with him all day, cancelling all of my classes and practice until I can’t hide from my responsibilities anymore. The vigil is tomorrow night, according to a schedule sent over by my father’s PA. Groaning at my phone, I drag myself up and scrub a hand over my face. Cody stirs but doesn’t wake, not even as I redress his bandaged hand and kiss him on the temple.

Movement outside the window catches my attention, a head of brunette hair bobbing as she strides closer, shouldering a gym bag. Swallowing at the sight of Meg, I glance back at Cody resting quietly. I suppose I can’t delay stepping back into reality anyway. Quickly changing into one of Cody’s cleaner white tees and a pair of his black jeans, discarding the silver chains, I slip into the hallway before Meg rounds the corner of the stairwell. Her eyes land on me instantly.

“Well, this is unexpected,” she raises a brow as her steps slow to a stop. I school my features, my arms folded and ankles crossed as I lazily lean against the wall opposite her door. “I thought you had a family commitment, or was that just a ruse? I handled practice well before anyone tells you otherwise.”

“I heard.” My mouth attempts to lift into a smirk and fails. Mitchell has been texting me non-stop about the ruthless drills Meg has been putting them through, asking when I’m coming back. He’s too used to me giving him an easy ride because he’s bulky and aggressive enough to play lacrosse without much skill being involved. Meg isn’t so forgiving. “I had every faith that you’d manage, and yes, I did have a family commitment.”

“Hmmm,” Meg hums, dropping her gym bag to the floor with a thud. “So why are you hanging around my hallway? Waiting to give me feedback on my performance?” Exhaling through my nose and pushing myself upright, I fight against the tiredness clawing at my eyes. Meg doesn’t miss a trick, her sarcastic demeanor slipping away instantly.

“What’s happened?”

“I’m giving you a heads up,” I start, pushing my tongue into my cheek. Meg’s eyes narrow, her back stiffening as she braces herself.

“I suppose you’d better come in,” she huffs, grabbing her bag and unlocking her door. My mouth opens to tell her that is not a good idea, but she’s already sweeping inside. If Cody wakes to find me not only missing, but finds that I’ve sneaked next door, I can only imagine his reaction. Then again, I’m here for a reason. An innocent one, this time.

Stepping inside, I glance over Meg’s room properly this time. When I was in here before, I was more than a little distracted by her mouth clashing against mine.

Now, I take in the differences between hers and Cody’s room. Whereas his is bare aside from his art supplies, hers is filled with every comfort possible. A plush mattress hidden beneath a nest of fluffy pillows and blankets, and a desk housing the most hi-tech computer setup I’ve ever seen.

I’m momentarily distracted by it, wondering how Meg came to be in possession of a model meant for a private developer circuit. They’re supposed to be exclusive and extremely hard to come by. Trust me, I tried to get one myself. Yet here it is, in all its shiny glory. Does she have a sugar daddy hidden somewhere? A sliver of jealousy slices through me before I can stop it.

“What did you want to give me a head’s up about?” Meg clears her throat from beside the door, her arms crossed over her chest. Dropping into her gaming chair, I swivel to face her fully.

“There’s a vigil tomorrow night for Laura. We’re expected to be at the forefront, handing out candles and offering hope.” Leaning back, I rub my eyes and fight against a yawn. My heart is itching to get back to Cody, to make sure he’s still safe and breathing. Meg’s eyes fill with pity as she drops onto the edge of her bed and tilts her head at me.

“Why are they really hosting it?” I almost huff a laugh. She really doesn’t miss a single thing. There’s a thousand answers I could give to that question, but I opt for the truth.