CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NICHOLAS
“Victoria,” I call out at the screen when the piercing alarms start to sound. “What’s happening?” I step closer to my father with my fists balled, but he stands there unaffected and continuing his eerie laughing.
“She was so close but allowed her temper to get the better of her and messed up. Now, she dies.”
I lose it and grab him by the throat, pinning him against the wall.
“Put a stop to this now.”
“Henry,” Elizabeth screams and tries to pull me off, but she has no hope. I’ll have blood on my hands in a minute, unless my father calls off the guards.
“You know my terms, Nicholas. You want me to put a stop to this then you marry Elizabeth and disappear never to be seen again,” he spits into my face.
“I want William,” I counter.
“He stays here. I’ll not have him embarrassing my name with his weirdness.”
“He’s not weird — he’s autistic.”
“He’s as crazy as his mother was. Now, make a decision. Tick-tock, tick-tock.”
I push off the wall and stamp across the room and send my fist flying into the stone wall. I come off worse with what, I suspect, might be broken knuckles.
“Fuck!” I call.
“Tick-tock,” my father repeats.
“Fine. Stop this. I’ll marry Elizabeth.” I turn back and slump down the wall. “Just save her.”
My father presses a button on his tablet and struts across the room to throw it at me. I pick it up and see a figure, in the society’s livery, flash across the screen. One minute, Victoria is there, and the next, she’s gone. A few seconds later, a hail of bullets flood into the room and destroy the painting.
“She'll be kept in a safe place until you have upheld your part in this bargain. You'll prepare to leave at once. We travel to Scotland tonight. You’ll be married by the morning. Say goodbye to Oakfield.”
With those words, he leaves. I stare at the bullet-ridden painting. I wanted to save Victoria, marry her, and destroy the society, which has governed both our lives since the day we were born, but I’ve failed.