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My no-friends policy is going to come in handy, and the fact that I don’t invite Kam anywhere. No one will ever see this coming. Though, I’m sure my every move is being watched. We won’t be able to use that loophole for long. This needs to be strategic.
“Didn’t you say their coach had a love affair with Maxwell? We’ve got to be able to use that angle somehow. Lover scorned and all that. He’d jump to help us,” Kam says.
He would. He’s helped before. Merc and I have talked about that possibility, but we haven’t been sure how to use him.
Until now.
Chapter34
Claustrophobic
One Week Earlier
Rhett
Leaning back in my chair, I observe the menagerie of others who—like me—were forced here by someone. At least I look good in white—white T-shirt, white cotton pants, white slippers—but the idea of being placed in a special facility is sobering. Confining. It feels like I’ve been in the penalty box several shifts too long. I get what Father’s doing, though. Showing me how easy it is for him to put me away if I don’t comply.
Someone’s playing Metallica.The Unforgiven.Logan loves this song.
My gut clenches. I promised I’d never hurt him again—what this must be doing to him. Has my father announced his plans? Does Logan think I’ve left him for Jack?
I doubt that Logan and Merc would believe Jack would leave Mercy, but who knows what they think of me? I don’t have the best reputation in this arena—maybe they’ll think this was my secret plan all along. That’s the worst thought plaguing me. Maybe they think I’m the one who abducted Jack?
And fuck, if Father’s hurt Jack …
I’m reasonably sure he wouldn’t hurt Jack. And Jack is too Jack to let what my father says affect him, but I hate all the uncertainty.
I hum along to the song, devoid of the spark that makes me the invincible Rhett Elkington. Usually when chips are down, I shine my brightest, but I’ve never had so much to lose before. Logan is the love of my life and I’d do anything for him, even rot in this antiseptic-scented hell.
My claws have been effectively removed. I’m defenseless, and the walls feel like they’re closing in on me. It’s a special brand of claustrophobia. There’s lots of space but knowing I can’t leave and that my only access to the outside world is my father, who’s happy to keep me here for as long as it takes for me to “behave”, constricts my chest and chokes my breath.
“Rhett Elkington?” one of the staff calls my name. “You have a visitor.”
Joy. Father again, come to see if I fully recognize the gravity of the situation. But it’s not Father. Dressed in a sharp woolen coat, shades covering his eyes, my brother, Maverick, sits in a plastic chair in the visitor’s room. It’s hard to believe what I’m seeing. I didn’t think Father would allow any visitors. His hidden gaze snaps around the room, his head pivoting on his neck, looking for ghosts that aren’t there.
The hair on the back of my neck rises, and my big brother instincts kick in. I inflate my chest and pull my shit together. Wallowing isn’t getting me anywhere. I take a seat across from him, holding my nerves and my swirling emotions at bay.
He leans back in the classic Elkington “I don’t care, and I own this room” posture, while his body betrays him, his left knee jittering and his fingers tap-tapping an agitated rhythm on the table.
I place a hand over his. “Mav.”
“Fuck off, Rhett. Gah!” He yanks his hand away. “Why the fuck did I think I could come back here?”
Ah.Oh.
“Not your first time here?”
“Did you really think I was in Paris?”
I did. “Does Mother know?”
“No, and she’s not going to.” He grits his teeth. “I can handle it.”
“Yes, looks like you’re doing a great job of that.”
“You’re one to talk.”
I huff. He has a point, but so do I. Whatever he’s been dealing with, it’s been alone.
