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“Yes.” My left eye twitches as I say the word.
Elsa goes completely still; she doesn’t even blink.
I expect her to turn around and hit me. I would let her. If it’ll help her blow off steam, I’ll let her hit me all she likes. As long as she finally fucking faces me, I’m ready to do just about anything.
She jerks her arm out of my grip. My hand curls into a fist by my side, but I don’t grab her again.
It guts me to have her close and not touch her, but if I reach out for her, I’m really kidnapping her the fuck out of here.
All the shaking from earlier disappears. Her spine jerks upright, and her chin lifts high as she takes purposeful strides in her father’s direction. Away from me.
“Elsa.” Her name leaves my lips like a pained growl.
“Let’s go home,” she tells her father with such determination, it echoes around the room.
Ethan wraps an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. She snuggles to his side like a kitten.
He nods in our direction. “Looking forward to crushing you, Jonathan.”
Then he’s out of the door, Elsa and Van Doren walking on either side of him.
Go after her.
Bring her back.
Kidnap her if you have to.
It takes everything in me not to follow my beast’s demands. If I use any type of force with her it’ll only backfire and burn me. If some distance will help cool her down, then so fucking be it.
For now.
I face Jonathan, expecting him to be seething about Ethan’s sudden appearance.
My father likes to use the element of surprise, but he sure as fuck doesn’t like to be its victim. Ethan’s rise from the dead has shuffled all of his cards and ruined the plan he’s been concocting for ten years.
A sadistic smirk sits on his lips. He flops on the sofa and forms a church steeple at his chin with his fingers. I can only imagine the number of fucked up scenarios running rampant in his mind.
Queens approaches me with careful steps as if she’s walking through a minefield. “I didn’t want to come here, but —”
I hold up a hand, shutting her the fuck up. “Leave.”
Her voice and face are the last things I need in my immediate vicinity right now.
“You deserve it, by the way,” she whispers so I’m the only one who hears. “This is what happens when you fuck people over. You get fucked over in return.”
I give her my best ‘do you have a death wish’ glare in response.
She lifts a shoulder and huffs as she announces, “I’m leaving.”
Jonathan barely acknowledges her, still lost in his own head.
We’re the same that way: when there’s a target to eliminate, we tune out the outside world and get lost in our internal chaos.
He’s probably counting his options and coming up with a plan to destroy Ethan. Quick wit and the ability to make snap decisions under stress are the reasons why Jonathan is what he is today.
When other people freak, Jonathan is focused on finding efficient solutions. If he falls, he doesn’t dwell on the smash, he dwells on how to never fall again.
“You really didn’t know he’s alive?” I ask.
