Page 50 of Deadly Rival

I failed in school, badly, for years, until I finally got a private tutor who understood the way I learn and unlocked my potential. I know how this conversation will go, and sweat coats my skin before I even open my mouth.

Disbelief at my carelessness. Disappointment that he stuck his neck out this far for someone who hasn’t even bothered to make a formal training plan. Strict instructions to do something that I’ll mess up, then the whole cycle will start again.

Jacob, the beautiful bastard that he is, saves me. “It’s a living document, sir. Given how unstable this situation is, we worked out a set of guidelines that could be adjusted to reflect any eventuality, even this one. We’ve got it under control, and Ophelia will behave at the ceremony. You can count on it.”

Once all this is over, I’m taking Jacob to do whatever stupid thing he wants. We’ll watch soccer, drink his horrible British beer, and eat the soggy monstrosities that pass for fries in his world. Anything to let him know how grateful I am.

Kendrick visibly relaxes. “Ah. I’ll take your word for it.”

Of course he will. Who wouldn’t?

We finish our drinks and spend a few minutes discussing the ceremony before Kendrick lets us go. Only Jacob and I will be initiated this time. Once we’re out in the fresh air, I heave a few deep lungfuls of it before collapsing on a bench. Jacob sits down beside me, staring off into the distance.

“Could be worse,” he says after a long silence.

“It could.” Exhaustion hits me in a toxic wave. I didn’t sleep much last night, not like Ophelia on her pet bed. She slept likea log. Maybe I should lock the bedroom door and have a nap on it later. I rest my forearms on my knees and yawn.

“Oi.” Jacob jabs me with an elbow. “You need to be sharp, mate. Lots to do.”

“Yep.” I stifle another yawn and force my head up. “Those guidelines you mentioned. Do they actually exist? Care to share them?”

Jacob grins. “Thought you’d never ask. To make her submit, you can’t just bully her. She needs to be scared of you, sure, but there’s more to it.”

“Enlighten me.”

“She needs to see a life for herself here, something more than being trapped in your room. You need to find something she’ll enjoy.”

“This is supposed to be a punishment.” I hate how sullen the words sound, but I can’t seem to stop it.

Jacob snorts. “You stole her life. If this goes the way we want, her dad and brother will probably die, too. Pretty decent punishment, if you ask me.”

Always so logical. It must drive Quinn crazy. I sigh. “So you want me to go all soft on her?”

“Fuck no. You need to be strict as all hell. But she needs happiness, too. And there’s another side to it.”

“Oh, good. And what’s that?”

“She needs to really understand the security here. All Wards think they can escape. She needs to believe no one is going to help her and there's no way out. The only way she’ll submit to you is if she’s decided making the best of it here, with you, is her only option.”

I raise a hand, ticking off on my fingers. “So put the fear of God into her, make her believe she’s here forever, and give her a sense of happiness and fulfillment. All within ten days.”

“That about covers it.”

The weariness rushes back, and I lean against the bench as Jacob gets to his feet. “Right, I’ll love you and leave you, mate. Quinn should be just about done at Medical. She’ll be happy when I tell her we’re moving initiation forward.”

A tiny smile touches his lips, and his features soften in the way they often do when he talks about Quinn. “I can’t wait to see my tattoo on her.”

Oh, Christ. The tattoo. I haven’t even thought about what to do for Ophelia—I always imagined something would leap out at me as I got to know her better. So far, nothing has leapt.

The rest of the day stretches out in front of me. Ophelia and I, alone in my apartment. What will I do with her? My skin tingles, banishing some of the weariness. That odd, intoxicating sense of power creeps back in. Whatever I want. That’s what.

But at the same time, Jacob’s words needle me. I need to get her out of my room. As Jacob raises a hand in farewell, I ask, “How about dinner later? Dress Quinn nice, for once.”

***

I open the door to such an oddly domestic, peaceful scene that it freezes me in the doorway. Eve and Ophelia sit together on the sofa, legs curled under them, chatting. The TV is on, but neither of them is watching. I catch the end of Ophelia’s sentence. “That’s so interesting. I never heard of it bef—”

She cuts off, and her gaze lands on me. Even though I’m the one who forced it on her, the change in her appearance surprises me all over again. In the hours we’ve been apart, my mental image of her had reverted to the prim, buttoned-up blonde.

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