Page 28 of Knot All That Glitters: Part 2

Jude folds his arms over his chest and glares at Brian, who’s now slid his palm up to Haven’s ribs, his fingers brushing over the side of her tit. “We have a plan,” he says, like he’s reminding himself of that fact.

“We do. We have a plan.”

“It won’t be long,” Creed says, making those four words sound like a promise, a vow. “She’ll be with us again soon.”

Chapter 10

Excuse Me, Sir?

I’m exhausted.

This is more activity, more peopling than I’ve had to do for weeks and it’s weighing down on me. My cheeks ache from the fake smile I’ve been wearing all night, and my feet are screaming at me from the heels I’m wearing. I’ve been standing all night. There are chairs around the room, but I haven’t sat in one. No, my father and Brian made it clear that as the guest of honor at this party, I was to remain on my feet and charming all night.

There’s the briefest flicker of… annoyance? Anger? Frustration? Maybe all of the above—before the chemicals in my veins smooth it all out. Whatever cocktail they give me every night does that dulls my emotions and makes me extra pliable.Not a compulsion like when I’m under an alpha command. It’s more like I can’t find it in myself to care enough to do otherwise. They tell me to do something I do it, because… why not?

It will keep Ren safe, and that’s the only thing that matters to me.

A hand latches around my elbow. “Come, Haven. We’re going.”

I have the thought that I should say goodbye to the guests. It’s what a good hostess would do, isn’t it? But my father is already dragging me out of the room and to the car. I don’t have the energy or the inclination to fight him, so I let him do it.

“Brian?” I ask as I slip into the back seat, and then immediately hate myself for doing so. I don’t care, beyond that I’m glad to be rid of his wandering hands and smug smirks. Oh, and the whispers. All of the horrible things he murmured into my ear all night, all the things he vowed to do to me, things that, if I were myself, would have made me shudder.

But I’m not myself. I haven’t been for weeks and so I’d just smiled though all of it, because that is what he told me to do. Even after Hale barked at me to ignore his commands, I did it. I’ll continue to do it, I don’t have any other choice. I will not risk Florence or her family.

It’s not like I was destined for some great romance, my perfect pack. That was never in the cards for me. If marrying Brian and smiling through his slimy, groping hands gives Ren the chance to find her happily ever after, I’ll do it. Of course I will.

My father laughs as he slides into the seat next to me. “Have you grown fond of your fiancé, Haven?”

I shrug and look out the window as the car pulls forward. “Not really.”

I should be prepared for the slap, but I’m not. My head slams into the window from the force of it, making it throb,along with the sting from his open palm on my cheek. It’s not the hardest he’s ever hit me, but it still makes my head swim.

I suppose he’s not worried about people seeing it now. The engagement party is over and I’ll stay holed up in my bedroom until the wedding in a month. Plenty of time for a bruised cheek to heal.

He sniffs when I don’t react beyond lifting my hand to press my cool fingers against my stinging skin. “He’s handling the guests.”

By ‘handling’, I guess he means ‘saying goodbye’ like I’d briefly thought maybe I should do.

“You did well tonight,” he eventually says, almost as an afterthought. I frown and press my throbbing head to the cold window. I should say something, anything else, some acknowledgement. But saying ‘thank you’ seems… weird, since the only reason I behaved well was first because of Brian’s commands and the drugs, and then because of the ever present unspoken threat to Ren.

So eventually I say, “I’m glad you were pleased.”

Which I am. Very glad. If he was upset, if he thought I embarrassed him, I would be worried about Florence, but as it is, I can bask in the knowledge that she’s safe for now at least, and I’ll never have to follow one of Brian Coogan’s barks ever again. Not by compulsion, at least. But I’ll still do what he says.

It’s for Florence. For Ginny. For Moira.

I can do this for them. To keep them safe.

My father’s cell buzzes and I hear him pull it out of his pocket, but don’t look away from the buildings streaming by. After a moment, he lowers the partition between us and the driver and leans forward to demand. “Take me to my office.”

I don’t ask what’s going on, or why we need to go there. I know I won’t be setting foot inside. Not with a bruise forming on my cheek and a goose egg on my forehead. Honestly, Idon’t really care why he needs to go. I’m just grateful that I’ll apparently have the rest of the evening alone. Not that I’ll do much with it. Just curl up in bed and nurse the few flickers of my broken heart I can still feel.

Or maybe if I’m lucky, I can spend some time in the living room watchingAlpha Love Getaway.

I have so much to catch up on, almost an entire season.

The idea of vegging out for a while, of shutting off my brain because I want to, sounds quite nice. I need to escape my reality and what better way to do that than to immerse myself in trashy reality television?

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