Page 103 of Reign

“Tempest is a fucking choirboy right now who refuses to tell me shit. I’ve been reading the news on a phone Rio snuck in here under a Big Mac. Both were very much needed.”

The mention of his friends causes me to think about all the arrests. “I’m sorry about James.”

“Stop apologizing, Calla.”

My eyes tighten at the use of my nickname, previously only used by Mom and Ahmar. But as fast as they narrow, they soften. I don’t correct him. I want to hear it more from him.

He says, “You’re the one who endured the worst. Sabine was gonna kill you—I read the Article.”

Chase refers to the Briarcliff Patch local newspaper, written by one librarian named Darla Dumphries, outlining the events of the temple showdown in scarily accurate detail. She wasn’t there, but enough shellshocked new initiates spoke in detail about the allegations of sex trafficking against Sabine Harrington and all those in cahoots with her. Darla wasn’t afraid to name names or explain how Sabine strangled an unnamed high school senior, and the two were wrestling for enough time for the girl to be forced into using self-defense before she was tossed over the railing by a very angry, very unhinged alumnus and formally respected member of Briarcliff Academy.

I have a lot to thank Darla for. It’s because of her all those men and women who escaped were now being dragged in for police interviews. Lawyered up to their necks, of course, but the media prints their names in block letters across the nation every time another one is rounded up. Daniel Stone and Headmaster Marron are a few such individuals, brought in to explain their actions and how a club so egregious, so despicably vile, could possibly be allowed to function on private school grounds. Their indictments should come in any day now.

“The Nobles and Virtues are no more,” Chase says, drawing me back to the present.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” I respond quietly. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Please. This is perfect for you. The societies are dismantled, press is all over the scandal, and my father is so fucking infamous, he can’t even hire drivers without them either attempting to pass on any information about him for money, or refusing to be near him. It’s amazing.”

I lift my head. “But all you wanted was to save them, and I imploded that goal into dust.”

“Yeah, you fucked it up real good, but I’m glad you did, otherwise you’d be dead.”

Chase says it so simply, but I sense his burning stare in the gloom.

“It didn’t go as planned,” I say.

“No shit. Nothing ever does. My psycho stepmom stabs me in the stomach—I lose my fucking gall bladder for it—and what does Father do? Stays at my bedside like a good little daddy, all the while aware of a temple ceremony where Sabine railroads you and solidifies their positions as kings and queens for fucking world domination. We can’t make this shit up, and I was a fool to think a malignant society could cure itself.”

“You were right about the new pledges, though. They’re the ones who stood up to this mess and made it public.”

“No, Calla, you did.” He finds my hand in the tangled sheets and holds it firm. “The news about you is scarce, but I got the gist that you held your ground with Sabine in front of all the people who wanted to either destroy you, or bury you, or both. You got balls, kid.”

I smile at the reference, similar to what Ahmar said to me once we both recovered enough from the all-night interviews and interrogations and he tucked me under his emergency blanket, where we sat at the back of an ambulance and just stared out at the mess. He wasn’t able to discuss the forged police report or his belief that I could actually hurt Mom. I’d searched for his hand and squeezed hard, letting him know I forgave him. All his actions after that report told me how sorry he was and how much he wanted to protect Meredith’s only child. We have a lot to work out, but I’m thankful we’re both alive to do it.

“Marron didn’t do anything but hold Ahmar back from saving me,” I say now. “He arrived near the end but didn’t say anything in my defense.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Do you think he knows about me? Or believes it? He hasn’t said anything after he resigned. He’s only speaking through his lawyers and he hasn’t bothered to get in contact with me.”

“Does that upset you?”

I think about it. The first thing I saw as dawn crept up over all the flashing police lights was my parents tumbling out of their car after it screeched to a halt in front of yellow crime scene tape. Lynda’s arms were flailing, and Dad was screaming at whoever was unfortunate enough to be loitering nearby. But like a boat searching for a lighthouse, they found me through the chaos. I’ve never seen Dad sprint so fast, or heard such an echoing, keening sob come from Lynda. They found me, they held me, and they cried until they finally believed I was safe.

“No,” I answer Chase. “He’s not my father. Never will be.”

“I wish, in the midst of all this crazy, you could’ve found justice for your mom.”

My gaze slides over to him. “But I did.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Sabine admitted everything and told me how she killed Mom. I’ve given all those details to the NYPD, but I don’t know if they have enough evidence to pursue it. But you know what? I’m okay with that. I have my answers and Sabine’s getting her punishment. Perhaps she was suffering already, what with Piper’s betrayal and then death. Not even Addisyn’s willingness to act just like her mother was enough to convince Sabine to be satisfied with what she’s gotten away with. It was always more. Just more. She wasn’t going to stop.”

Chase is silent for a moment. He changes our grip, lacing his fingers through mine. “You good?”

“About as good as you,” I say.

---