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Beast releases his collar and shoves him down on the floor.
“Jesus Christ,” my father says, coughing.
I quickly go to my knees in front of him and check him for wounds, but my father only has eyes for Beast.
“Where the hell are your manners, you animal!?” my father growls.
“Manners?” Beast sneers back, making a fist. “You are the last person on this planet to know what they are.”
“I beg your pardon?” My father’s brows draw together. “You literally tried to kill my daughter and me several times!”
“You didn’t care if she died as long as it saved your ass!” Beast roars, getting up in his face.
I push back both of them with a hand on their chests, separating them as best as I can. “Please, guys.”
But I don’t seem to be getting through to either of them. Their eyes are homed in on each other as if they plan to throw knives at each other’s throats. Beast glances at the kitchen drawer that contains them.
“Beast,” I hiss as I get up to block the drawer. “Don’t.”
“How did you find us?” he snarls at my father.
“I didn’t even know you two would be here,” my father replies.
Of course, he wasn’t looking for me.
But why does this admission still sting deep inside my heart?
“Why are you even here?” he asks.
“This was the only safe place I could think of,” I say.
“Well, it’s not safe withhimhere,” my father balks, throwing daggers at Beast with his eyes.
Beast lunges forward and grabs my father by the collar again, spitting in his face, “You’re the reason she’s been suffering all this time!”
“Beast!” I yell, pushing him away. “Stop.”
His eyes find mine in the dark, a glimmer of hope flashing through. “I would rip out his tongue and feed it to him just for hurting you.”
Tears well up in my eyes, but I swallow them back down. “I know.”
His nostrils flare, and for a moment, I worry he might actually go through with it. But then he drops my father to the floor and marches to the living room, where he sits down on the couch, seething with rage.
I thank him with my eyes and take in a deep breath, then focus on my father.
“Thank you,” he mutters.
“Yeah, don’t,” I reply, helping him up from the floor.
“What?”
“Thank me,” I reply.
He throws me a damning look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what it means,” I say. “Don’t pretend you don’t know you hurt me.”
He sucks in a breath and straightens his back, posturing. “Well, I did what I did because I had to. Do you think I had any other choice, strapped to that chair?”
