Page 54 of Reign

I slam the cabinet shut. The metal rattles under the vicious energy. “Searching for answers.”

Father stands at the open archway, the eerie blue-black light of his office framing the backs of his shoulders despite the glaring halogens I stand under.

“Nonsense. You’ve read through these papers and gone through my computer since you were a young boy. There are no surprises in here.”

“My point exactly.”

Father crosses his arms. “Explain yourself.”

“Where do we keep our checks on the Virtues?”

“Pardon?” He arches a brow.

“According to my teachings, thanks to you, Father, the Virtues are allowed to assemble provided they report to us. Their meetings, their minutes, their prospects and initiates … where are all those records?”

Father chuckles, the sound grating against my spine. A muscle pulls at my jaw, but I keep myself in check.

He says, “Even you can admit times have changed since the nineteenth century. We don’t require their every twitch and thought these days.”

“Why not?” I counter. “We’ve preserved every single rule from the beginning—it’s our law. Or so I thought.”

“Are you saying you prefer your women subservient?” Father’s lips pull into a thin smile. “It’s lovely to see that my lessons continue to hold. If only you could put them into practice with Calla Lily Ryan.”

I play to his assumption rather than give into my boiling rage. “I believe you like to call them accessories. So why give them independence? Free reign? Do you have any idea what my future stepmom is up to?”

“Please, boy.” Father scoffs. “There is a reason I keep her near.”

“So you know.” It’s my turn to cross my arms. “You know the truth about Ivara Alling.”

Father tips his head, neither acknowledging or denying.

“And Callie’s bloodline.” I let my father’s controlled expression finish the rest of my explanation.

His lower eyelid tics. He sets his jaw. But he does nothing else.

I come toward him, but fall back enough not to grab for his throat. “Tell me the truth, Father. What’s Sabine playing at? What are you helping her hide?”

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Emma was made into a sex slave for Sabine,” I deadpan. “How is that not my business?”

Father’s eyes spark, flat gray rocks rubbing up against mine. “Get a hold of yourself, boy, before I have to do it for you.”

His hands twitch at his sides, aching, I’m sure, for the times when he could put me in a stranglehold, and I’d stay there.

“Don’t tell me you’re in such denial, Father,” I spit. “Your flesh and blood was used, torn open, her soul eviscerated, and you stand here before me like it’s nothing.”

“It isn’t,” my father snarls.

My cheeks go numb. Any blood anchored in my face is pulled to my fists, swelling them to levels where I need my knuckles to burst on my father’s skin. “You are pathetic. Sad. A waste of a man who hides behind a woman’s skirts while she does your dirty work. You hate us so much, why go through the pretenses of raising us, when we both know you’ll never give up your leader status, because that’s all you have, you fucking soulless bastard—”

The back of my head slams into a cabinet handle on my father’s roar, his maneuver catching me by enough surprise that the sharp corner sinks into my nape and sets my neck on fire.

Father pushes his face into mine, gripping my lapels, spittle hanging onto his stubble as he snarls and spits like a rabid animal. “I don’t give a damn about her because she isn’t mine!”

Shock has me halting my struggle. Father takes advantage of it and swings for my face. I duck, and his fist crashes into the cabinet behind me.

Cursing, he stumbles back, holding his injured fist like he just lost a bar fight and didn’t just go head-to-head with non-sentient metal.

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