Page 9 of Total Carnage
I snorted, not even trying to hide my disdain. "Cut the bullshit, Dad. We both know this isn't about my comfort."
His eyes narrowed, that politician's mask slipping for just a second. Good. I wanted him to know I saw right through him.
"I'm suffocating in here," I spat, hands on hips, looking at him the way my mother had on way too many occasions. "This isn't living, it's existing. I need my freedom, my life back. The open road, the wind in my hair, making my own damn choices." My mind shifted to Vin as I spoke, blood pounding in my ears. I knew I was playing with fire, but fuck it. I'd rather burn than wither away in this fucking prison.
Dad's jaw tightened, the vein in his forehead pulsing. "You speak of freedom, but you don't understand the consequences of your... choices," he said, his voice low and dangerous. Forever the politician, forever one of his country’s citizens. I was the daughter of no one.
I laughed a harsh sound that echoed off the walls. "Consequences? You mean like being locked up by my own father? Trust me, I understand plenty."
I watched Dad's expression shift, that fake concern morphing into something colder, more calculating. His cold stare gleamed with a predatory light that made my skin crawl. He was never going to let me go. I was Rapunzel stuck in a castle.
"Very well, Raven," he said, his voice smooth as oil. "Let's discuss your freedom. I'm prepared to offer you a deal."
My heart skipped a beat, but I kept my face neutral. I'd learned the hard way never to show weakness around him. "What kind of deal?" I asked, my voice laced with suspicion—another lie about to be served.
He smiled, all teeth and no warmth. "Simple. You can have your freedom, on one condition: renounce this... biker lifestyle. Leave it all behind. The club, the leather, the lawlessness. Come back to the fold and be the daughter you were meant to be. A senator from New York has a bright young son your age. Good genes. Smart. Successful."
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. The audacity, the fucking nerve of him. My blood boiled, and words were spilling out of me like lava before I knew it. "Go fuck yourself," I snarled, taking a step towards him. "You think you can buy me off? Control me? That lifestyle is who I am. It's not just about the bikes or the club. It's about living on my own terms and making my own choices. Something you've never understood."
I was shaking now, years of pent-up rage and frustration pouring out. "I'd rather rot in this hellhole than give up myidentity for your approval. You don't own me, Dad. You never have, and you never will."
The silence that followed was deafening. I could see the shock in his eyes, quickly replaced by something darker. But I didn't care. For the first time in months, I felt truly alive.
His face twisted, the mask of fatherly concern shattering like cheap glass. Dad’s eyes went cold, his jaw clenching as he took a menacing step towards me.
"You ungrateful little bitch," he hissed, all pretense of civility gone. "I've given you everything, and this is how you repay me? Fine. You want to throw your life away with those degenerates? Then you'll stay here until you learn some goddamn sense." His words dripped with venom, each syllable a knife aimed at my heart. But I stood my ground, refusing to flinch.
"You've given me nothing but chains," I spat back. "Keep your blood money and your fake concern. I'd rather die than become your puppet."
Dad’s hand twitched, and for a second, I thought he might hit me. Part of me almost wanted him to—it would've given me an excuse to fight back. But he just sneered, his contempt plain as day.
"We'll see how long that rebellious spirit lasts when you're rotting in this room," he said, his voice low and dangerous. You're not leaving this compound until you come to your senses. And trust me, I have all the time in the world." As he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, I felt a strange mix of emotions wash over me: anger, fear, frustration, and fierce determination.
I paced the room, my mind racing. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot. If he thought he could break me, he had another thing coming. I'd find a way out, even if I had to tear this place apart with my bare hands. My thoughts turned to the club, to thefreedom of the open road. To Vin. God, I missed him. Missed all of them. But I couldn't let myself wallow. I needed a plan.
I scanned the room, looking for weaknesses, for anything I could use. The window was tempting, but I knew it was a long drop and probably alarmed. No, I'd have to be smarter than that.
I lay on the bed as night fell, staring at the ceiling. My body was still, but my mind was on fire. I'd play along for now, let the old man think he'd won. But the second he let his guard down, I'd be gone. And when I got out? Well, let's just say Charles Stansfield was going to learn what happens when you cage a wild bird. One way or another, I was getting my freedom back. And heaven help anyone who tried to stop me.
The heavy curtains parted with a whisper, revealing the manicured gardens below. I pressed my palm against the cool glass, my reflection a ghost in the window. The Stansfield compound sprawled before me, a monument to wealth and control.
"Fucking cage," I muttered, my breath fogging the glass.
Marble fountains gurgled in the distance, their serene beauty contrasting to the storm raging inside me. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined paths that wound through rose gardens and past a gleaming pool. It was beautiful, in a suffocating sort of way. I turned away, my gaze sweeping over the room. Plush carpets, antique furniture, and priceless art on the walls screamed old money and power—Dad's way of reminding me who held the keys to my prison.
"You can dress it up all you want," I said to the empty room, "but bars are still bars."
I turned when the door opened. Dad strode back in, his façade of fatherly concern long gone. "This childish rebellion ends now, Raven," he growled, looming over me.
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Or what? You'll ground me? News flash, ‘Dad,’ I'm already your prisoner."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."
"Oh, I think I do," I shot back, my voice dripping with venom. "You're capable of throwing your own daughter to the wolves to save your precious reputation."
For a moment, I thought he might strike me. His hand twitched at his side, and I braced myself, ready to fight back if necessary. But he reined himself in, his mask of control slipping back into place.
"You'll thank me for this one day," he said, his voice cold and flat.
