Page 146 of Empire of Ache & Ruin

“So Tristan Sallows is back for his pound of flesh, is he?” He lets out a laugh.

Tristan? Freya called him that when I first met her. She later started calling him Archer, but I’m certain she used the name Tristan. So that’s Archer’s real name? Tristan.

“Now every single one of his movements since Archer arrived makes sense.” Dad nods to himself as he puts the pieces of the puzzle together. “The mob was happy to entertain my gambling until he came along. I thought it was coincidence that everywhere I turned, the great Archer was there to save the day. He took our home. He took you from me. What did he plan to do next?” He meets my gaze. “Now I understand why the ethics committee and the party were in such a rush to get me to resign. It was him. He probably paid them off. They dared come after me because he put them up to it.”

“He going to send you to jail. And make you pay for what you did,” I blurt out.

“Is that so? Was that his plan all along?” He furrows his brows. “Well, he failed. Much like his father, he doesn’t have the guts to do what’s needed to get the job done. He had months to get to me and he couldn’t hack it.”

Archer didn’t come after Dad, not because he couldn’t do it, but because he wanted to forgive him, for me. Archer didn’t finish ruining Dad out of love for me. Now his words in the forbidden wing make sense. He begged me to ask him to let it go, to put aside his anger. Back then, I didn’t understand what he was asking me. Archer didn’t want to hurt me. He knew that seeing Dad in jail would kill me.

Why didn’t he tell me the whole truth then? I glance at my bloody hands, the broken glass on the floor, and the darkness in Dad’s eyes. Archer knew he couldn’t tell me the truth because I wouldn’t have believed him. I would’ve sided with Dad. Until tonight, I had no idea what Dad was capable of. I see him now though. I see him for the monster he’s always been.

“I won.” Dad chuckles. “With a bit of luck, Hunter already took care of my Archer problem.” He furrows his brows as if considering something else.

But before he can ask more questions, Hunter barges in.

Hunter is pale and unnerved. “He’s gone.” He slams the door shut. “That asshole has more lives than a fucking cat. He’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Dad squeezes his hand into a fist.

“His car’s still there. The blood. But fucking Archer is gone. I was sure he was dead when we left him before.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Why won’t he die?”

“Where’s the gun?” Dad asks.

“Here.” Hunter reaches inside his tuxedo jacket and waves the weapon around with zero regard for our safety. “I should’ve shot more than once. But I was afraid the neighbors would come out looking for gossip.”

“Did anyone see you shoot him?” Dad steps around the shards of glass and joins him outside the glass enclosure.

“No, I told you. I was careful.” He rubs the back of his neck. “We were down the street. No one saw it. It was a single shot. I don’t think people realized what it was.” He thinks on it a bit, then his eyes open wide. “Maybe the security guards came out after I left and saw him?”

Dad releases a breath. “I’ll check with them.” He dips his head toward Hunter. “Wipe the gun down and leave it in the safe in my office. Get rid of the car. Dump it in a ditch or whatever, I don’t care. Clean out the blood too. No one can know Archer was ever here. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Hunter nods, blinking fast. “I understand.” He makes to leave then stops to look at me. “What about her?”

“She’s not your concern,” Dad deadpans.

“You promised her to me.” Hunter purses his lip into a tight line. “I did everything you said. She was supposed to marry me.”

Is it possible that the auction wasn’t the first time Dad put me up for sale? He promised me to Hunter. In exchange for what? Unwavering loyalty?

“We have bigger problems right now.” Dad glares at him. “We need to make sure Edward’s son is really gone. You can worry about the state of your dick later. For now, you need to clean up your fucking mess, then go home and lie low for a while. I will handle the rest.”

“Who’s Edward’s son?” Hunter squints at me, then looks to Dad.

“None of your business. Go.” Dad gestures toward the door.

Hunter stands there for several breaths as he looks at me with greed in his eyes. Eventually, he concedes with a nod and leaves again. Dad stands there fuming with his hands on his hips, staring at the door as if considering his next move. I’m still on the floor, afraid that if I make any sudden movements, I will remind Dad that before Hunter walked in, I accused him of killing Archer’s dad. And that I haven’t told him everything I know, like who’s helping him.

Dad is so lost in thought, he doesn’t notice when I slowly rise to my feet. My knee throbs from my fall down the stairs earlier, but I ignore it—I’m used to that constant pain. I have nowhere to go, no one I can call for help. But maybe if I can get back to the city, Caterina and Rex might be able to help me. I just need to get out of here and maybe take one of the cars parked outside.

I glance down at my stained shoes, and again, a memory from one of my nightmare’s flickers in my head. I’m beginning to think my dreams are not dreams at all, but broken memories. But memories of what? I was so little when Mom died in a car accident. Any memory of her would be impossible. I don’t even know her face. Because Dad lied about that too. He lies about everything. I fist my hands. How did I not see that before?

Slowly, I attempt a step toward the door that leads to the kitchen stairs. Dad’s still staring at nothing in the dimly lit room. I have to try. My whole body shakes with fear, but I have to try. In the next beat, I make a run for it.

“Paloma,” Dad calls after me, but I’m already in the kitchen, pushing my way through the staff and toward back door.

The cool air hits my face, and I know I can do this. I can escape my father once and for all. I cannot continue to be his sweet little daughter, like a tiny dancer in a music box who only twirls around the path laid out for it—back and forth. And back and forth. Never going anywhere. Only dancing for my father’s own entertainment.

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