Page 287 of Wicked Brutal

Dad doesn’t seem to appreciate the clarification. “You won’t when she forgets her place.”

Victor touches my chin, tipping my face slightly toward him. “She won’t.”

The certainty in his voice is somehow worse than Dad’s anger. Dad wants me afraid enough to obey him. Victor wants me comfortable enough to believe obedience is my own idea. I’m not sure which one frightens me more.

Victor’s thumb moves beneath the fading bruise on my cheek. His eyes settle there. “This was Thursday?”

Every muscle in my body tightens.

Dad doesn’t answer immediately. “She required correction.”

Victor’s gaze stays on my face. “Poorly.”

Dad goes still. “She’s my daughter.”

“And she’s leaving with me Friday.”

“Which gives me two more days.”

My blood turns to ice. Victor finally looks at him. “For what?”

Dad doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to.

Victor’s hand drops from my face. “I don’t want her frightened of every word out of my mouth, Roman.”

“Fear teaches respect.”

Victor glances toward the office door. Toward the rest of the house. Toward my mother, somewhere beyond it.

“Did it?”

Dad’s face changes. “Careful.”

Victor smiles faintly. “I’m not criticizing your wife.” Somehow, that sounds worse. “I’m criticizing your methods.”

“You don’t tell me how to handle my daughter.”

“Your daughter,” Victor repeats. Dad’s jaw tightens. Victor’s arm settles around my waist again. “My wife.”

“Not yet.”

“Close enough.”

“Until then, she lives under my roof.”

“Until Friday.”

The room goes completely still. Neither man is looking at me anymore. They’re looking at each other. And suddenly I understand.

Dad isn’t reluctant to send me away because he wants me here. He wants more time. Thursday wasn’t finished for him. I stood between him and Tobias. Mom stood between him and me. He lost control of all three of us in the same night — and now Victor is taking me before Dad has had the chance to put everything back where he thinks it belongs. Victor doesn’t care that Dad hurt me. He cares how. Dad wants obedience. Victor wants devotion. Neither of them gives a damn whether it’s real.

I make myself laugh softly. “Well. This is flattering.” Both of them look at me. I smile at Victor. “I didn’t realize there was quite so much debate over me.”

“There isn’t,” Victor says.

“Alison,” Dad warns.

“I’m teasing.”