Page 270 of Vile Boys

He suddenly comes out from behind the desk and grips my chin. “Tell. Me. Why.”

My lips are sealed but a wretched smile still forms on my lips,however painful this might get.

SMACK!

The hit of the palm of his hand to my cheek flushes heat into my skin.

“Tell me!”

I look up at him with nothing but disdain. “No.”

His lip twitches. “You dare to sit here in my office, look up at me with those remorseless eyes, all while taking money from my hard-earned work, mountains of work you so happily destroy for whatever fucked-up reason,” he grits. “Some of those men were personal friends. And you somehow got it in your head you had the right to take their lives.”

“They were buying and selling people like cattle.”

“I don’t fucking care what they did! They spend money atmycasinos. Money that’s now gone because of the likes of you.” He taps his finger into my chest. “Do you have any idea the kind of pain the Bones Brotherhood will inflict on my business when they find out it wasmyson who destroyed one of their hubs? They paid for your fucking Tartarus Houseandthese fucking clothes you wear so mightily like you’re goddamn God’s gift from heaven.”

I don’t respond even though I want to, badly.

“You are nothing. You are not a god nor a gift. You have been insufferable since the day you chose to defy me. And for what? A good conscience?” He scoffs and shakes his head. “You are nothing but a disgrace.” He leans back and looks at me, then slowly takes off his jacket. My skin begins to crawl as he places it on the desk. “Take off your fucking shirt.”

Here we go.

My nostrils flare, but I still do what he says, eyeing the guard in the corner. His gun flashes in the single light fixture above us, a stark reminder of what little power I hold inside these walls.

I unbutton my shirt and slowly take it off, throwing it to the floor, then kicking it away so it won’t get covered in blood.

His eyes glance over the engraved letters on my chest, a single word that will haunt his soul forever. This name caused the rift between us. This name reminds him of his lost son and all the ways I will never be his puppet again.

I ruined that for him.

“Get up,” my father says through gritted teeth.

I do what he says, and the guard immediately plucks the chair away from underneath me.

My father marches to his cabinet and takes out a long, black bullwhip on the end of which is a sharp metal point, the sight of which makes my whole body quake.

THWACK!

The sound of it hitting the floor has me blinking rapidly.

My father turns to me. “Turn around. On your knees.”

I stare him down, rage boiling over, not giving him an inch of my fear before I turn around. But I won’t fucking kneel. Not for him.

THWACK!

When the whip comes down on my back, I hiss from the pain.

“Do as I say,” he grits.

I stay put, grinding my teeth together as I hear it flick behind me.

THWACK!

Another painful lash makes my eyes teary, but I stay standing.

“ARES!” my father growls.

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