Page 35 of His Eternal Claim

He fucking played me.

He’s about to learn that when you take the only thing a monster loves, you don’t make him stronger.

You make him the end of the world.

Chapter 14

Silence

THE REQUIEM | Present

The rain beats against the high, arched windows of the study, matching the knot in my chest.

I don’t understand why this is happening.

“Look at me when I am speaking to you, Hannah.” Papa’s voice is deceptively smooth as he stands by the desk, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

Whenever he drinks, things happen.

I press my back harder against the curtains, squeezing my sketchpad against my chest until the cardboard edges bruise my ribs. My pulse won’t slow down, no matter how many times I tell myself to breathe. I know I shouldn’t be here. I know that when Papa’s voice drops to that freezing register, bad things happen. But I can’t leave Mama alone in the room with him. I can’t.

Mama stands near the door, her shoulders hunched, her eyes fixed rigidly on the floor. “I only asked for the ledgers, George. I am your wife; I deserve to know where the money you earn goes—”

Smash.

The sound of the glass shattering against the wall makes me jump. Mama flinches violently.

“You do not ask me for anything,” Papa snarls. The calm facade I love so much instantly evaporates, replaced by something feral. He bridges the distance between them in two terrifying strides. His hand wraps brutally into Mama’s hair, forcing her face upward. “I provide for you. I give you a life women in the old country would starve for. And you dare question where my money goes?”

“George, please—” Mama whispers.

“Don’t you dare hide behind my daughter,” he spits, and then he shoves her.

Mama loses her footing. She crashes hard against the edge of the console table before sliding down onto the floor, clutching her ribs, letting out a muffled, breathless sob.

I can’t stop myself. Mama crumpled on the floor breaks the fear holding me back. I drop my sketchpad and run across the room, throwing my small body directly between them.

“Papa, no! Stop it! Please don’t hurt Mama!” I cry, tears instantly blinding me. I bury my face against his trousers, my tiny fingers gripping his coat. I love him. God, I love him so much it hurts. He is my Papa. He is the man who carries me on his shoulders, who buys me the finest pastel paints, who calls me his little princess. I just want the good version of him back. I want the monster to go away.

The terrifying storm in Papa’s expression melts. He drops to one knee, completely ignoring Mama on the floor, and gathers me into a fierce embrace.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet girl,” Papa murmurs and lifts me, settling me onto his knee, and brushes the wet curls away from my face with terrible tenderness. His hands are so large, so gentle. “Look at you, shaking. I’m so sorry, princess. Papa didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Don’t hurt her, Papa,” I sob into his shoulder, locking my arms tightly around his neck. “Please don’t be mad.”

Papa sighs heavily as he looks over my shoulder at Mama, who is still on the floor weeping silently into her hands.

“I don’t want to be mad, Selene,” he says softly, his thumb gently wiping a tear from my cheek. He leans back so he can look straight into my eyes, his face full of sorrow. “But you see how your Mother acts, don’t you? She doesn’t appreciate anything I do for this family. She pushes me, and she provokes me, and then she makes me lose my temper. She did this, sweetheart. She brought this ugliness into our beautiful home.”

I blink through my tears. A horrible, confusing guilt pulls at my chest. I love Mama, but Papa is my hero. He’s the sun. If Papa says Mama caused it… if he says she made him do it… it must be true. Mama must have broken a rule. Mama must have been bad.

“George… don’t tell her that. Don’t do this to her…”

“Hush, Hannah,” Papa cuts her off, his voice a freezing edge for a moment before it softens again as he looks back at me. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you, Selene? You understand how hard Papa works to keep you safe? To buy you your paints? To give you everything you ever dream of?”

I nod quickly, desperate to keep the warmth in his eyes, desperate to stay safe in his arms where the storm can’t touch me. “Yes, Papa. I love you.”

“I love you too, my beautiful angel. More than life itself,” Papa whispers, pressing a long kiss to my forehead.