Page 94 of Sweet Torment

“Make sure you tell the psycho this is her fault,” Alexander says, breathing heavily from the effort. “Take him to the car. We’re done here.”

Tristan’s eyes burn with hatred as he’s lifted back up and dragged toward the door, his feet barely supporting his weight.

“Your little rebellion ends now. You will fall in line, you will fulfill your obligations to this family, and you will remember who holds the power here,” Alexander announces, addressing all of us.

My father doesn’t address me as we exit the room and make our way back to the car waiting for us.

Our fathers must be eliminated. They’re a danger to all of us. But much more importantly, they’re a danger to her.

* * *

Our car approaches the estate, and my head throbs. I need to get my eyes on her and confirm she’s safe. The events of the evening have rattled me deeply.

“Has Ms. Quinn returned?” I ask the guard, a man who has manned this post for years. He’s always been professional and not an asshole like most of the guards.

“Mr. Dashwood, she arrived about an hour ago.”

Relief momentarily washes away the seething anger that’s been building under my skin. Bianca is home. Safe.

Not as safe as she could be, though.

Not as safe as I need her to be.

Tristan is breathing shallowly and keeps wincing. “I think we should hold off on sharing the Whitney lab baby bullshit with Bianca,” he says, echoing my own thoughts. “She won’t take that well.”

I glance at Owen, whose shirt is stained with fresh blood from his reopened wound.

“By not taking it well,” Freddie says with a bitter laugh, “do you mean she will more than likely take a steak knife to one or more of their necks the next time they’re in the same room with her?”

“As hot as that would be, yes.” Tristan’s face screws up in pain as the car hits a bump in the driveway while we wind around to the house. “And the look on my father’s face after Vincent mentioned that she hit him was concerning. He would love to strangle her, sure, but I don’t think that’s the only thing...”

“They’ve always viewed women as conquests. Bianca represents something they can’t have.” I grip the leather seat beneath me because I saw it too, and it wasn’t just Alexander we needed to worry about.

“It was one thing when we found out they all fucked Whitney together,” Freddie says, running a hand through his hair. “Disturbing, but... she wasn’t ours.” His eyes meet mine, and I see my own fear reflected there. “But even the thought of their eyes on Bianca, thinking about what they’d do to her if they could, is fucking me up.”

“They won’t touch her,” Owen snaps. “Enough. Talking about this is making me want to go back there and murder them all.” The car rolls to a stop by the front door, and when we get inside, I don’t hear anything.

We find her in the living area near our rooms, curled up on the couch with a book resting on her chest. It reminds me of simpler times. Just the sight of her makes me breathe easier.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” I murmur, and we separate to our respective bathrooms.

I scrub my skin raw, as if I could wash away the memory of my father’s words.

Bianca deserves to know everything, but telling her about our fathers’ plans would push her past a breaking point. Whitney did enough while she was alive. The last thing we need is to let her torment Bianca from the grave.

When I return to the living room, Bianca is awake and has Owen and Tristan seated on the couch while she grills them.

“You’re going to tell me everything that happened,” she demands, pacing.

“It’s nothing,” Tristan insists.

“Why are you wearing a shirt then? You walk around here half-naked all the time because you have to make sure you’re completely dry before you put clothes on, but now you’re covered up from head to toe, and you keep making a face like you’re in pain.”

“And you,” she says, pointing at Owen, “there’s blood on your shirt. Why is it bleeding again?”

“Princess, it’s all good.”

“Bullshit.” She moves toward him, her small frame tense. “Why are you dickheads lying to me? Take your shirts off and let me see.”