Page 220 of The Forbidden Note

One corner of his lips hitches up. He glances down at my clenched fingers and then meets my eyes again. “You wanna hit me?”

Freaking psycho.

I’ve always wondered—all these years, I’ve wondered—what it would be like if my father wasn’ttheJarod Cross. If he worked a regular job at a regular office. If he came home smelling of sweat and hard labor rather than booze and some other woman’s perfume. If he taught us guitar because it was once a hobby of his, a dream that he gave up because music rarely pays the bills and he loved his family more than his ambitions.

But that wasn’t the cards I was dealt.

And this monster’s blood runs through my veins.

Making me a monster too.

Dad lifts one of the pictures, one where I’m kissing Grey on the mouth. “What I had to learn, all those years ago when I was a newbie in the industry, you’re going to learn it too. But not in front of the world. No, you’re not going to make those mistakes where the cameras can pick them out and laugh at you. At us.”

“You went to so much trouble,” I snarl, looking at dad in rage. “But what the hell do you get out of it, huh? Just another screwed up way to control us so you can run for governor?”

His brows lift imperceptibly. This time, his eyes fill with amusement.

“Yeah, I know about that,” I snap. “You need Gran’s inheritance so you can fund your campaign, don’t you? Teaching at Redwood for a semester, running for the chairman of the board seat, it’s all to change your image so people are willing to vote for you.”

Dad laughs, and the sound sends a black, chilly shadow over the car. He lets out a long sigh, as if his body can’t take any more laughter and looks at me with eyes like hell. “Damn, you’re an idiot.”

I snarl at him.

My phone buzzes and, at the same time, there’s a knock on the window.

Dad lowers the glass as I check my phone.

There are a bunch of texts in our group chat.

Cadey: Did anyone know Miss Jamieson was live-streaming?

Sol: What?

Dutch: @Zane You need to see this.

Dad winds the window back up. Whatever his goons told him has him smiling.

I click on the video link that Cadey sent.

It opens up to a video of Grey. She’s standing on the front steps of Redwood Prep with a bunch of microphones around her.

My stomach drops.

What the hell is going on?

I whirl around. “Take me back to the city. Now.”

Dad peers at my phone and smirks. “Not yet. Let’s see what she has to say first.”

I notice the blank, almost business-like tone he’s using and something snaps into place in my head. I drop my gaze to the pictures and then lift my head, staring at dad with new eyes.

He’s right. Iaman idiot.

“You’re not going to use these pictures,” I breathe out. It all settles into place in my mind, like a million glass shards reversing in time, each one fitting back into the mirror a moment before it shatters. Whole. New. Reflecting the truth.

My heart starts to race.

“You werenevergoing to use those pictures.” I lift them. “They’re grainy. We’re wearing masks that cover our entire faces. The only people who could correctly identify us are me and Grey. No one else would look at these and use them as evidence.”

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