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“Excuse me?” he growled, his body shaking.
“Dad,” Rhett gasped. “You-your hand!”
“Leave it,” he commanded as Rhett started to approach him, making him halt where he stood. “I’m fine.” Father walked behind the bar, grabbing a towel to cover his wound. “You’re positive it was her?”
“Yep,” said Isaac, loudly popping the P. “It’s her. She has a scar on the back of her leg from where she was shot a few months ago. We’ve all seen it before. That’s how we were able to identify her.”
“I see.” Father’s jaw ticked, his aged cheeks burning hotter with indignation.
“We have to do something about this,” I finally spoke, chugging down another two or three shots. “We have to capture her. Fucking interrogate her.”
“You will do no such thing!”
“I’m sorry…What?” Isaac asked before the same words could blurt out of my own mouth. “Did you just say that—”
“Yes, I fucking did,” Father rapidly replied. “You arenotto harm a single hair on her fucking head. Do you boys understand me?”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” I asked, glaring ruthlessly at him. He must’ve been suffering from an early infection from that hand wound, because he wasn’t making a lick of sense. Samara was an Outlaw. Our enemy. There was no telling what info she’d relayed back to Damien since her arrival at the academy. It was likely worse now that she’d been recruited. Damien probably knew all about that, too, and I said so.
“I’m aware of the risk,” he replied, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “but my decision stands. You three are not to harm her. We need to see how this plays out.”
“Why?” Isaac asked. “She’s dangerous. If we continue to let her go through the trials—”
“I understand the risks,” Father repeated, his eyes narrowed. “But we need to play this smart. Shewillmove forward with the trials. If we kidnap her or put her through any harm, Damien will find out, meaning he’ll know we’ve caught onto his little scheme. We need to sway her to our side and turn her against Damien. She may have intel that could benefit us.”
“That’s what we have Jace for,” Rhett commented.
“Fuck him,” I spat. “They’re on the same side.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Son. Jace helped us intercept Damien’s harvest tonight. He held up his end of the deal and we have to honor it. Samara may be one thing, but I trust that Jace is a man of his word. He did come to us, after all.”
“You’re fucking delusional!” I threw the bottle I was holding on the floor, shattering it, the expensive booze splattering all over the floor and my shoes. “It’s all fucking bullshit. Are you seriously that blind?”
“Are you in charge here?” Father walked around the bar, coming eye to eye with me as he clutched the towel around his injured hand. His nostrils flared, and his chest heaved the longer he glared at me. “Huh? Fucking are you?”
“No,” I whispered through gritted teeth.
“I didn’t think so.” He smirked darkly at me before turning away to face my brothers. “She goes unharmed. Like it or not, we need her. If I find out that you have gone against my wishes, your titles will be stripped indefinitely. Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes, Father,” Rhett replied, his face downcast.
“Understood,” Isaac agreed despite not being happy about it.
“And what about you, Phantom?” Father turned to face me, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Do you dare challenge my authority again?”
If he were anyone else, I’d have snapped his neck and been done with it. But this man was my father—not by blood, but he’d taken me in, saved me, given me a life, a fucking purpose to live after what had happened to my real family, knowing what I did. He loved me, and despite my trauma, all of our traumas, he never gave up on us. Onme.
I fucking hated it, but I had no other choice but to agree to his demands. Even though they severely pissed me off at times, Rhett, Isaac, and Xavier Michaelson were my family.
My real family.
So, all I could do was nod, knowing deep down that in the end that Father was making a huge mistake.
Even so, I wouldn’t let that stop me from doing what had to be done.
Samara had to fucking pay, one way or another.
Three
