AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Letting myself in the front, I ignore the staff still working despite the late hour and storm straight to his office. If he’s summoned me, he’ll be here. He’s probably here ninety percent of the day either way. Unsurprisingly, my uncle is standing outside, waiting for me. He takes a step toward me as I approach.
“Nico, calm down,” he starts, which only pisses me off more. I’ll calm down when my father can keep Harlow’s name out of his fucking mouth.
I ignore him, steamrolling into the office, only to stop short with a jolt just over the threshold as if I’ve been electrocuted. I barely notice the way he’s reclined lazily in his oversized chair. My focus is pulled to the front of it, where Harlow lies. She’s curled in a heap like a fucking dog, her blond mane of hair spilled over her face. I could swear my heart stops beating. The sight of her here, so vulnerable and sostill, renders me completely immobile. Why is she here? What has he done to her?
“What did you do?” I ask with no emotion, not trusting my self-control while I wait for his answer.God, please don’t let her be dead.
“Just a little chloroform,” he says dismissively, and the air whooshes back into my lungs. I close the space between us, crouching down to gently push the hair from her face and press two fingers to her neck, feeling her soft heartbeat as mine pounds in my chest. Thank god. Drugging people is dangerous, but at least she’s fucking alive. I stand, my eyes finally leaving her to focus on my father, hoping to bore a hole straight through his head. He shrinks slightly before remembering himself and straightening his shoulders and his jacket.
“What happened to our deal?” I ask, only just holding my voice steady.
“You mean the one where you quit and focus on The Games? I haven’t heard from you in days, and you’re still working.”
My anger rises at the thought of him using her every time I don’t jump to his demands. We had a fucking deal. “I—”
He cuts me off as my uncle tries to guide me toward a chair, but I shrug him off. This isn’t the night for civilized conversations.
“You think you’re winning against me, but you’re not,” my father promises. “You’re a part of this family, and you’ll do your bit to ensure we win the next Games. That doesn’t include giving away all our secrets to the competition.” My facade is cracking, with her laid out so weak in front of me, and he reads me well, given the chance. “You think I don’t know Harlow is training to go against us? Or that her two teammates haveimpressiveskills?”
“How can you possibly know that?” I ask, but he ignores me, content to continue his spiel.
“All you’ve done is ensure they join you,” he says.
“No.” I don’t want to stand here and argue—I’m desperate to get her out of here—but I can’t agree to this for her. She would never. My father leans forward and clasps his hands on his desk.
“Your days of saying no to me are over. Unless you want the Guards to know everything about Harlow here and her plans, she joins and fights forus. She joins, they’ll join.”
“They’ll join without her,” I tell him, and I know they will if it keeps her safe. I mean, they joined her easily enough, and that was when she was in danger by joining herself.
He shrugs. “She joins anyway.”
It’s just to fuck with me; I know it is. To keep me focused on winning because I can’t risk sacrificing her.
“Why do you care about her? She’s just some girl,” I ask, already knowing the answer. He fucking cares because I care, which was the whole reason I was supposed to be staying away from her in the first place.
“I could ask you the same question. She joins, or she’s passed over to the Guards.”
I grit my teeth so hard I’m surprised they don’t crack. I could stand here and argue with him, tell him she’ll never agree, but we both know it’s not her decision anymore. Once again, my father has decided what he wants, and he’ll use the threat of violence to get it. I won’t let her be passed to them. Harlow’s in.
“Give me a month.”
He smiles wryly at my request. “You’ve got twenty-four hours.”
“A week.” I have no idea what an extra week will do in the grand scheme of things, but the longer she has without knowing, the better.
“Forty-eight hours and you’re in this full time,” he concedes. “You train, you’re here.”
“What’s the rush? Why is it suddenly so important when we have three years?”
“The Games are in just over six weeks.”
That shocks me.Six weeks?
“How long have you known?”
His demeanor changes, and he looks as if he has a bitter taste in his mouth. So this wasn’t his choice, not that he answers the question to confirm.
“You’ve got two days, and with this new deadline, you’re lucky you’re getting that. Two days, and you live and fucking breathe this training.”
