Page 81 of Taint My Soul

He doesn’t matter to me. Not even one bit.

Whatever he makes me feel isn’t enough to save me from all of this? If my father finds out I’m stepping out of line again, he’ll make me kill him. He’ll take him from me.

What’s best for me is distance. Distance from him is the better option. Focusing on family. That’s what matters to me.

But no matter how much I convince myself that I wasn’t terrified of losing him in the torture house. That the moment those soldiers took him instead of me wasn’t mortifying. The truth punches a devastating hole through my head, reminding me of the line I crossed. Having to hold my heart in my hands while waiting for him to regain consciousness. Having to wish those chains didn’t hold me back from pulling him into my arms.

I wanted him in my arms.

A rough, disbelieving laugh escapes me. Hollow and bitter.

Why did I think that this was ever going to end well? That I would step out of the shell of a man I have been all my life.

The following morning, I’m up and ready by seven. My new driver holds the door open for me, and I get in. I don’t bother learning his name. He puts the car in ignition and drives into the city, heading straight to the King mansion. As the car rolls through the driveway lined with cypress trees, my lungs lurch with the anticipation of my father’s demeaning gaze. I practice what he’ll say. Practice my responses. Yet it’s not enough to stop the walls of the car closing in around me. My breathing triples as I place my hand against the leather seat to steady myself.

Get it together, Saint!

“We are here, sir.” The man behind the wheel announces, and I grip the handle and open the door, hurrying out of the car. I inhale sharply. Nerves burning with hesitation, I regard the building before me and straighten my back.

Entering the house, I meet Father sitting in the dining room. Alone. He holds a newspaper in his hand, and a cup of tea and some slices of bread rest against the polished table. His impassive gaze flickers to me, and my heart flips twice as I settle down opposite him.

“Father. Morning, sir.”

“Morning.” He says, flipping the newspaper to the next page.

“Virgil told me what happened at Genesis City. Was it worth it? Did you get a deal?” He deadpans. His fingers curl around the teacup, revealing his wedding ring. He still wears it. Even years after my mother had passed.

“Yes, Prince and I concluded we’d sign a contract if all goes well.”

“Hmm.” He nods. “And you ran into Cyrus Deveraux?”

“He ambushed us. Took my assistant and me.” I give over the information he so desperately wants.

“And it took you two weeks!” The words barrel out of him, breath sharp and rough. “Two weeks! And you didn’t even escape. Your brothers had to come and save you.”

How do I admit that I could have broken out, but I didn’t want to?

I wanted to bear the consequences of the pain I carried for the past twenty years. I was ready to die at Cyrus’s hand.

“Take off your clothes. Show me your scars. I hope they’re worth it.” He bites out venomously.

I rise to my feet, fingers moving off the buttons of my suit. I take each piece of clothing one humiliating moment after the other until I’m standing naked in front of him. He observes the healing scars on my chest. The bruise on my jaw. Then he hums apathetically and gestures to the seat beside me. “Sit.”

My body shivers with a tremor as I sit naked on the chair.

“Virgil must have told you about the raid by law enforcement.” He continues without looking at me. “Thankfully, I moved everything to the safe-house. I did that the time our warehouse was burned. And you haven’t found the culprit, have you?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s been almost a month. We haven’t found who tampered with our shipment or fucked up our warehouse. We have traitors right now planning their next move. Let me ask you a question, Demetrius.” He looks at me. “Are you man enough to be the next successor? I’m barely four months away from dying.”

“I can, Father.”

“Then fucking prove it to me!” He slams his hands against the table. I remain motionless, facial expression unreadable as I look at the man who raised me. “Don’t come back here unless you have the heads of all of them.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get out of my sight.” He says, voice dismissive. I regain my footing and pick up my clothes, walking out of the dining room naked, body reeling with embarrassment and mortification.