Page 57 of Cold Carnage

"Yes," he replied firmly. "You push people away, refuse to let anyone in—how long do you think you can keep that up before it all falls apart?"

The words hung in the air between us like a challenge, daring me to respond.

"I'm just glad Paige is here to clean up your mess," my father continued.

Paige's eyes widened a fraction before she composed herself. "Actually, sir, Ryker's been doing a great job," she interjected, her voice steady. "The team respects him, and he's been handling the pressure remarkably well."

I turned to her, my patience snapping like a brittle twig. "I don't need you defending me," I snapped. "Stay out of this."

Her expression tightened, but she held her ground, refusing to look away.

My father stepped in, his voice low and dangerous. "Ryker, that's no way to speak to a colleague," he admonished. "Especially one who's standing up for you."

I felt the blood rush to my face. "This is between us," I insisted, my voice rising despite myself. "Paige doesn't need to be involved."

"On the contrary," my father said, his tone icy. "It speaks volumes about your character how you treat those who support you. Paige is right—you have been doing well professionally, but your attitude leaves much to be desired."

I opened my mouth to argue but shut it again, words failing me. The room felt stiflingly small with Paige and my father both staring at me, judgment clear in their eyes.

Paige shifted slightly in her chair, breaking the tense silence. "Mr. Kane," she began carefully, "Ryker's under a lot of stress right now. Maybe we could all take a step back and try to understand where he's coming from."

My father gave her an approving nod before turning back to me. "See? Even now she's trying to help you navigate this situation," he said pointedly. "You could learn something from her approach."

The urge to punch something surged through me again, but I swallowed it down. My father's words echoed painfully in my mind—self-destructive path—and for a moment, I saw myself through his eyes: angry, lost, pushing everyone away.

But instead of responding with more anger or defensiveness, I forced myself to take a deep breath and nod stiffly.

"Fine," I muttered through gritted teeth.

"Brendan's disappointed in you too," my father said, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. "What kind of role model are you being for him?"

I felt a jolt of anger at the mention of my brother. The one who always did everything right, who never screwed up, who was always the golden child. My father's favorite.

"Don't bring Brendan into this," I growled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Paige flinch at Brendan's name. Her fingers moved to her wrist, a subtle, almost unconscious gesture that caught my attention. What was that about?

My father didn't miss a beat. "Why not? He's looking up to you, Ryker. Do you really want him to follow in your footsteps right now? You think he's proud of how you're handling things?"

"Brendan's not perfect," I snapped back, my voice rising despite myself. "He's got his own issues."

"At least he's not lashing out at everyone around him," my father retorted. "He's working hard, trying to make something of himself. And he's worried about you."

"Worried?" I scoffed. "Or just waiting for me to screw up so he can gloat about it?"

"That's not fair. You're always such a victim, aren't you, Ryker? It's always everyone else's fault. Brendan cares about you."

"You don't know him like I do," I shot back, the words harsher than intended.

Paige opened her mouth to say something but then closed it again, her fingers still resting on her wrist.

My father stepped closer, his expression hardening. "This isn't about Brendan or anyone else," he said firmly. "This is about you and how you're handling things. You need to get it together before it's too late."

I clenched my fists at my sides, the urge to argue boiling just beneath the surface. But looking at Paige and seeing the worry etched on her face gave me pause.

My father took a step back, his eyes shifting from me to Paige. "I'm sorry you had to witness that, Paige," he said, his voice laced with false regret. "I wanted to speak with Ryker privately, but apparently, he can't be bothered." He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, the gesture meant to be comforting but only succeeding in making my blood boil.

My eyes narrowed at the touch. Fury welled up inside me, a molten core threatening to erupt. He always had a way of turning everything into a performance, manipulating people with his smooth words and calculated actions.

---