Page 66 of Full Circle

As I opened my mouth, he waved it off. “No, not a word out of you! It’s gonna cost me a fortune to get you out of this! A goddamn fortune!”

“I need to get back to Celeste!” I screamed.

Benedict’s smile was evil. “Oh, you’re never going to see that girl again, do you hear me? As soon as I can sort this out, you’re going straight on the plane to Montmeri, and that’s final!”

My hands shot forward and rattled the bars on my cell. He was too far out of reach for me to strike him like I wanted, but I knew it wouldn’t help my case at all if I assaulted someone else at the police precinct. “I NEED TO GET BACK TO CELESTE.”

“You can’t!” he yelled right back. “They’ve filed a restraining order against you after your ridiculous outburst!”

“Wh-what?” I asked, my voice quiet as fear choked the life out of me.

He nodded, a smile so vindictive and cruel twisting on his face that he almost resembled a snake. “Her family took out a restraining order. Your precious, little girlfriend never wants to see you again!”

That couldn’t be right. It had to be Desiree’s doing—Celeste couldn’t really be that angry with me, could she? Yes, what I did probably scared her, although she had seen enough of my fights at school to know how violent I could get.

“We’re about to go see the judge, so for Christ’s sake, keep your fucking mouth shut and let me get you out of this. My son, behind bars…you disgust me.” Disdain dripped from his words, but I didn’t even hear them. My heart was too busy shattering.

They led me in handcuffs down to a small office where a judge, a few officers, my father, and one of my father’s attorneys waited. A court clerk of some kind read me my rights and explained this was my arraignment, meaning I was officially charged with crimes and the judge determined if it was safe enough to let me out on bail. The judge then read off my crimes in a monotone voice as if he were merely reciting a recipe for the millionth time. Charges included vandalism, assault, and…attempted murder?!

“I did NOT try to kill anyone, for fuck’s sakes!” I yelled.

“Wesley!” my father snapped.

The judge, an older Caucasian man with wispy white eyebrows and a receding hairline, pursed his lips in a frown. “Young man, there are several witnesses who attest to you choking a doctor against a wall. He had to have medical attention!”

As soon as I rolled my eyes, I knew it was the wrong call.

“Since you clearly don’t have any remorse for your actions or the extensive damage you’ve caused, I am going to set bail at one million dollars!” the judge rasped.

My father looked murderous. “Fine. We’ll pay it.”

If the judge was affronted, he didn’t show it. Our attorney stepped forward, holding out his arm to guide us through to an enclosed office where an officer glared at me while he removed my handcuffs. Benedict went up to a glass window and signed a check. The receipt gave us a court date three months away for my first hearing.

The attorney led us out through a maze of hallways to a black SUV waiting in an alley behind the jail. Clearly my father wanted to avoid the press, although for once, we agreed. The last thing I wanted was to see my mug shot plastered all over the tabloids.

All of that paled in comparison to my new reality. I needed Celeste like I needed the trees to keep providing air. She was my life source, the very essence of who I was, and without her, I couldn’t survive. Fuck a restraining order. That had to be Desiree’s dumbass idea anyway. There was no way my girl would have done that to me.

Except…I couldn’t forget the tortured look on her face when I delivered my final blow at the hospital. Why the fuck had I said any of that? Her dad had literally just died right in front of her, and all I could do was kick her while she was down? I certainly didn’t see any Boyfriend of the Year awards in my future.

When I pulled my phone out of my pocket to call her, Benedict yanked it out of my hand faster than a lightning strike. “Hey!” I protested.

“You no longer have phone privileges,” he sneered. “Come on, we’ve got a plane to catch.”

“I’m not going to that school, Benny. You can piss off,” I replied. Turning on my heel, I started to storm away from him, down the alley to the main street.

A firm hand clamped on my shoulder and pressed harshly. It was one of my father’s bodyguards, though my father was right next to him. “You’re either going to Montmeri or I take you back inside and revoke your bail. Good luck talking to anyone from a jail cell.”

It was my worst fear come to life. I had no choice but to follow them, my brain whirling a thousand miles an hour to formulate a plan to get me back to River’s Run. Celeste needed me now more than ever. She had barely survived her mom’s passing, and that was right after I came into her life.

Animosity prevented me from even making eye contact with my father as we settled into the back seat of the SUV. His bodyguard climbed into the front passenger, nodding at the driver that we were ready. A soundproof partition rose between the front and back so that they couldn’t overhear whatever my father was about to say.

“I’ve already spoken with the headmaster at Montmeri,” Benedict said. “You will not have access to any computers, tablets, or phones. I made sure you had a room to yourself, so don’t even think about sneaking onto another kid’s stuff. If you try to contact that family in any way, I will know about it. Not only will you violate the restraining order and get in more trouble, but I will revoke the bail and my attorney. You’re looking at serious jail time, Wesley, maybe even a trial as an adult. From now on, you do as I say and forget that girl ever existed.”

The injustice of it all burned my throat to where I couldn’t speak. To my surprise, a tear trickled down my cheek as I kept my eyes focused on the window. If I thought my heart shattered before, this must be what it felt like to have my heart ripped out of my chest and shredded in a blender. My entire world was in shambles after one of the best mornings of my life. How could everything change in a millisecond?

“You’re also going to earn back every cent of the money this is going to cost me with a fifteen percent interest rate,” my father continued. “The gravy train stops now for you, boy. You wanna act like a hotshot, it’s time to earn a hotshot paycheck and be grateful for the doors I’ve opened for you.”

Arguing was futile at this point. He had me under his thumb well and good, and he knew it.

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