Page 43 of Reign

“Sadly, I am so far from done.” I push my palms into the edge of the table, tipping my chair on its two back legs. If my father can don an arctic veneer, I’ll counter it with the blasé attitude of an asshole son. “We’ve yet to cover Meredith Ryan. Tell me, Sabbie, did you orchestrate that, too?”

Tempest raises his eyes skyward at the same time Emma swivels in her seat, her eyes stretched to their whites.

“How dare you?” My father’s whisper snaps across the table. “It’s amazing to me that the heir to a fortune and to the governing of a powerful, world-wielding secret society can act with such idiocy. Everything we do, boy, is for you. Meredith’s inheritance—excuse me, Calla Lily’s inheritance—could take that all away from you. Do you understand? I am protecting you. Sabine is protecting you. Your sister sits here with us because she knows the truth of our influence. She’s paid for her rebellion in the worst possible way, and for that I am devastated—”

“That you can no longer sell off your prized stock?”

“Chase.” Emma’s whisper is more of a tremulous gasp. She palms the table much like I do but squeezes until her knuckles pop through her skin. “Stop this.”

My father goes mute. His lips thin to a needlepoint thread. It is through a very small pocket of air that he says, “I do believe you’ve overstayed your welcome.”

“Oh, have I?” I retort but push to my feet. Tossing my napkin on the table, I say, “As always, it’s been a pleasure, Father,” before whirling for the exit.

He says to my back, “Regardless of your prostrating, I trust you haven’t said one word to our girl about the little secret we keep, now have you?”

My shoulders level. My feet stop. But I don’t turn around.

“Ah.” I hear Father’s smile. “I’m delighted to know your loyalty remains bound to the Nobles. If Calla Lily were ever to find out you’ve known who her real father is this entire time … well.”

Sabine hums in agreement. “Just when we thought such betrayals were finished with. The poor girl would be devastated.”

My hands clench at my sides, the skin growing purple with endless, swirling blood.

Another hand comes to my lower back. Words murmur, “Let’s blow this place.”

After a curt nod, I allow Tempest to push me out of the dining room. We don’t stop until we reach my bedroom the other side of the penthouse, far away from the bruises I’m aching to inflict on someone else. Anyone else.

A speck of clarity remains within the red of my vision, and Tempest steps inside it. “Calm down.”

“Fuck this.” I yank out of his hold. “My sister’s back there. We have to get her.”

Tempest clamps down on my shoulder and shoves me away from the door. “No we don’t.”

I bare my teeth. “Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do? You did nothing back there. Didn’t have my back because my best friend is suddenly a mute-ass motherfucker—”

“Emma didn’t want to leave.”

I choke on my own insults. “What?”

He shrugs. “I asked her. She said she’d like to finish her steak.”

“That—doesn’t make sense.” I rake a hand through my hair.

“You tell me. She’s your sister.”

“Her tormentor’s sitting with her. Both of them. And we’re not there anymore.”

“Need I remind you, she was also a mute-ass motherfucker during your shitstorm. Considering the numbers are against you, I’m thinking that was the better way to handle it.”

“Oh, come on.”

“What were you trying to accomplish?”

I wave him off, choosing to scowl out the window.

“Can’t say I enjoy Christmas any more than I did before that remarkable dinner,” Tempest muses.

He searches through my desk drawer, humming in excitement when he finds what he’s looking for and holds up the blunt.

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