Page 95 of Hero of Havoc

“Will she be okay?” I ask, and his jaw tightens.

“She will be perfect once my father is no longer a concern,” he grunts, contained rage raspy in his tone.

“What did he do, Archer?” I ask, even though I know I shouldn’t, and he scoffs.

“He does what he always does: he caused pain and destruction and let the world fall as he walked away.” It’s cryptic, but enough for me to hate the man in question even more than I already do. Archer holds both drumsticks in one hand to drag the other down his face as he exhales.

“I know there was something to do with the tulips,” I mumble, and he glances at me.

“Arabella?” he clarifies, eyebrows furrowing.

“She said they thought they were from you until your mother read the card; then she insisted Arabella go upstairs.”

He nods. “My mother loves tulips; I send them once a week. A different array of colors each time to make her smile,” he explains, and my heart warms for him.

“That’s sweet.”

His lips purse. “When they arrive, my mother and sister make a big fuss, hurrying to the kitchen together while my mother inhales the sweet scent,” he continues, and I gulp.

“Arabella mentioned that,” I breathe, and his nostrils flare.

“My messages are usually short but sweet, and my mother reads them out loud while they have tea time together.” I can’t handle how adorable it all is. “Only today, that was an issue because the flowers weren’t from me.” He slips his hand into his pocket, revealing a small white card. He glares down at it, and I watch, highly anticipating it going up in flames at his touch, but to my surprise, he reads it out. “I hope the scent offers you the hellish trip down memory lane you deserve.”

I rub my lips together, confusion getting the better of me, and Archer must see it when he tilts his head my way.

“He had the tulips laced with shade.” I shake my head, unsure what that is, and he sighs. “My father is the most corrupt man you will ever meet, and I don’t say that in comparison to your father or Leonardo; I mean that’s literally what his life is about.” His knuckles whiten around the drumsticks as he tucks the card back in his pocket. “My mother has memories of him, of a man paving her every move in gold, promising the world, but all he gave her was despair. The moment she didn’t follow his rules, he got her hooked on the stuff. It’s a rich, green and black flower that blooms from ash, offering euphoria and emotional numbness, but the effects quickly darken, leaving you with intense terror, as well as a shattered mind and vivid hallucinations.”

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe, emotions clogging my throat, and he shakes his head.

“She shattered the vase in rage, but her anger came too late; nothing was going to stop the rollercoaster she was on now. But she’s strong and resilient. She’ll regain her composure; she just needs a little time.”

“And Arabella?” I ask, my fondness for the girl undeniable as he offers me a tight smile.

“Her favorite caregiver has been arranged while my mother recuperates. She’ll have monitored access to her to make sure neither of them struggle with the separation, and then we can go on pretending like this never happened again.”

“Why do you carry this alone, Archer?” I whisper, and his jaw tightens.

“Because there has never been anyone else. Besides, once I’m done with my father, there won’t be any need for it.”

His pain is palpable.

“Did Arabella say anything else?”

“She said you were a handful to live with, all⁠—”

“Fifteen years,” he finishes, a soft smile tempting the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this,” he mutters, and I shake my head.

“Please don’t be. I’m happy to help. I want to help. Arabella is adorable,” I insist as his chin dips to his chest. Clearing my throat, I try to change the energy in the room. “What were you playing?”

“Nothing… just making sound.”

“I liked it,” I admit, inching closer, and he nods.

My stomach knots at the sight of him, but as I come to a stop beside him, he tosses his drumsticks aside before reaching for my hips and tugging me into his lap.

A muted yelp parts my lips as I curl my hands around his shoulders, my thighs draped over his as I stare deep into his eyes.

There’s something there I’ve never seen before. A part of him exposed in a way he has no control over.