Page 14 of Pretty When She Breaks
The guard nodded.
Scrraape.
Click.
The door closed with the sounds that still haunted my nightmares.
I was left alone with him, sealed inside. The security guards wouldn’t open the door until they heard my father order it. No matter what. I’d even been in here when my father had shot his gun, and still, that door stayed closed.
He regarded me for a moment, a familiar sneer coming to his face.I felt pinned by his cold gaze, trying to avoid squirming like a beetle on a stick.
“You’re late,” he said, his voice light. That was a very bad sign.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, the words automatic. I could feel my body shutting down. My face felt blank as I stared at my father, not really seeing him.
He stood, and I stared ahead as he moved to stand in front of me, his gaze raking over my face and lingering on my hair. His hands were clasped behind his back, but I knew what he would be holding.
“Tell me why you’re here,” he said.
“Because I hit Prince,” I responded, my voice only wavering a little.
“Youstruckan alpha in the middle of your suite. In front of everyone!” His voice was getting louder, his face reddening as he worked himself up. “You’ve damaged your image, your reputation—everything we’ve worked so hard to build! I can’t believe it. You haveone job, Laurel, and I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to treat alphas with basic fucking respect!”
I didn’t speak, because he hadn’t asked a question.
Be still.
Be silent.
Be small.
“One job!” he roared, stepping toward me. “Tell me, Laurel, is it really that hard?”
“No—”
The sound of the wooden switch was a hungry inhale of promised pain as it parted the air faster than my eyes could track.
Crack.
He’d struck the side of my head, the force enough to send me staggering into a chair.
I caught myself on the back of it, breaths heaving through the faint ringing in my ears and the searing line of pain now prickling my skin.
“And you still can’t manage it,” my father barked.
I struggled to stand again, lacing my hands behind me and straightening my back. My face was red and my eyes and nose were watering, but I refused to sniff.
Control.
My scent hadn’t wavered.
I kept my head down, baring my neck in submission. Not that it ever did any good. Father grabbed the front of my blazer, dragging me toward him with his free hand. His face had developed angry red spots, and the veins around his eyes stood out.
“One job,” he hissed.
He shook me for emphasis before casting me to the floor. I curled in on myself to protect my torso as he hit me over and over, only letting out short whimpers. Each strike reverberated through my whole body, sending deep, sharp pains through me, and left burning welts across my skin. But there was one thing that he couldn’t touch, and I clung to my stubborn spark as I lay there, determined not to let it go out again.
“Fuckinguseless,” he hissed, delivering one final kick to my knee before he sank down onto a chair. His face was fully red now, his comb-over sticking up off his head. “Your mother’s child through and through. Fuckingbitch.”
