Page 83 of Deadly Rival

Wade greets me, eyes sharp as Sebastian retreats. “Thank fuck. It’s been a nightmare trying to get any time with you. The old fucking coot thinks you’re a natural at this.”

He rolls his eyes like we’re sharing a joke, and I have to work to keep my face straight. Screw him. It’s not a damn joke. But I push it to the back of my mind—I’ve been dying to see Wade forone important reason. “My father. Have you seen him? How is he holding up?”

My brother deserved what happened ten times over, but it will have hit my dad hard. I’ve been thinking of him grieving alone. He doesn’t have anyone.

Wade teeters his hand from side to side. “You know your dad never shows what he’s feeling. I honestly think he’s more disappointed than anything. He thought Harrison was too smart to go rogue like that. And he’s said for years that shit with Maggie would come back to haunt your brother. I guess he never expected it to happen like this, though.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in—casual throwaway words delivered by someone who doesn’t know me. Who has no interest in me whatsoever, aside from keeping in my dad’s good books. “He knew? My dad knew what Harrison did?”

Wade gives me an odd look. “Of course he did. He needed your old man to make sure he was covered in case Maggie’s dad went to the cops. He didn’t, though. Your dad paid him off.”

A wave of dizziness hits, and I take a seat on one of the patient chairs. Years. I suffered with guilt for years, and my dad knew all about it. He comforted me, in his brusque way, and told me it wasn't my fault Maggie was weak. But never, not once, did he tell me the truth.

The truth that could have changed my life.

Before I can ask any more questions, the door bangs open, admitting two middle-aged men, one supporting the other as he limps along. “Accident on the Squash court,” the supporting man says. “Hope it’s not broken.”

Wade smiles, snapping right into doctor mode. “Let’s get that looked at. Ophelia, bring the stretcher over.”

For the next three hours, I’m kept busy by a steady stream of minor ailments and injuries. When the last patient—clusterheadaches, poor lady—leaves, Wade breathes a sigh of relief. “Fuck’s sake. Thought we’d never get a minute. You actually are pretty good at this.”

“Thanks.” I smile at the compliment, but he’s already moved on.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does, except what I’m about to tell you. You need to play up at the ceremony. Whatever he’s told you to do, don’t do it. Swear at him, run for it, cause a scene, whatever. Just don’t behave.”

I nod. Old news, but Wade carries on. “The top cluster of assholes here, the ruling council or whatever the fuck they call themselves, made a deal. If you fuck up, you get sent home to Daddy.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Along with pretty boy’s head.”

He sits back, smug and satisfied. “What do you think of that? Don’t ask me what I had to do to get that info.”

I open my mouth, and it takes a minute before I can stammer out, “Sebastian’s head?”

“Yep. In a fucking box, like some mafia movie. Your dad insisted on it. Badass, right? Imagine walking into your dad’s house holding that. The man who killed his son. Don’t forget to mention I gave you the tip-off.”

I turn away, and my face must have showed my dismay, as Wade frowns. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me it’s made you queasy. You’re a Calder, Ophelia. This sort of shit is in your blood.”

“I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep well.” It sounds fake and dead in my ears, but Wade shrugs and gets to his feet.

“Don’t worry. Only one more day to get through, and then you’re safe. Your dad’ll never let anything happen to you again.”

It’s one last blow in a day full of them. He’ll keep me locked up forever. I’ll be a princess in a fucking tower, only allowed outwith bodyguards. My dad, who could have saved me from years of guilt but chose not to. Who watched me cry over Maggie and never said a word.

My dad, who demanded Sebastian’s head in a box.

What the fuck is wrong with him? Wade starts tidying the room, and I try to wring some sense out of the conversation. My dad made a deal with the Brotherhood, but his main goal isn’t my release. Oh no. His goal is revenge. Taking out the man who wronged the family.

Not me.

It was never me, was it?

Never.

Did he ever put me first? I wrack my brain, searching for a single incident. For just one time he considered what I wanted above himself. Above the family. Above Harrison. Above the opinions of people he wanted to impress.

I try and try and try.

Nothing.

And now he wants Sebastian dead. Wait. I glance at the door—no sign of him yet. “Wade.”

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