Page 66 of Where He Ended

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Page 66 of Where He Ended

Ever since Laiken and Kara left, my mother has drawn in on herself. She alternates between moping in her bedroom or out in the preserve. Wyatt has returned to work twice, and each time, he's driven back off the property, refusing to work with Annie stumbling around drunk.

I'd fought away my desire to talk to him about Laiken. I know myself too well. If he told me anything about her that worried me, I'd be unable to stay near my parents.

And I have to.

Silas is staring at me—did he ask me a question? I pull myself taller, unsure how to talk to him . . . how to interact at all. Something feels off and I can't put my finger on it. “I'm not sure what you want from me,” I mutter.

“I want you to pull yourself out of your misery and start acting like a man. You haven't done a damn thing to help out around here. I wonder if you actually care.”

“I'm the one that stopped Mom from seriously hurting Kara, maybe evenkilling her.That would have been far worse for us and our business than anything I can imagine.”

His lips curl in mocking kindness. “Ah. So you want me to thank you.” Drawing in a breath, he circles the desk, angling for me. He approaches until I can see every hairline crack between his eyebrows and on either side of his scowl.

He's spoiling for a fight, but again, everything feels wrong. Like I'm drinking fruit juice that's started to rot but isn't quite there. “I don't want anything from you,” I start to say, my words going unfinished as a rush of understanding takes my voice away from me.

Each time I've been in his study over the years, I've felt degrees of dread. Sometimes it was great enough that I would tremble right in front of him. Other times, I'd keep myself stoic on the outside while enduring waves of nausea. It's always affected me. Always.

This time, as I square off with my father, I feel . . .

Nothing.

“It's gone,” I whisper in amazed surprise.

“What?” he asks quizzically.

Looking him over, I start to notice all the little ways he's changed through the years. When I was young, he had his struggles with his health, but it was still no chore for him to drag me by my hair into this very room. He'd barely break a sweat holding me down so he could beat the soft parts of my body no one else would see.

He'd been bigger, stronger, but it was always more than just that. In my psyche, I'd thought he chose to hurt me because I was a failure. I'd been sure on some level that I deserved it. If I hadn't, why would he do it? And why would my mother never stop him?

So I'd endured the violent desires my father had for me. I'd been certain that someday, even if it wasn't now—and the now always moved—he'd wrap me in his arms not out of hate, but love.

Now I know better.

“You can't do shit to me,” I say flatly. “Not anymore.” This room has been the source of so many nightmares. Now, it's just a dark place with too much dust and a bunch of medals that belong to a dead man. And then I wonder something I never had before. “Did Granddad abuse you the way you abused me?”

His face falls. His shoulders go with the motion until my father looks limper, frailer, than ever before. He tries to recover, but it's too late. I'll never see him as anything but a weak old man. “No. He never touched me.”

My entire assumption that he was repeating what he'd experienced himself dissolves away. I'd been preparing myself to, if not forgive him, at least justify his actions. But he can't even give me that. “Then why? Why the fuck did you put me through that messed up shit? I'm yourson,I was just a kid!”

“I was making you tougher. And look at yourself.” He nods at me. “You're right, I can't do anything to you. I wouldn't even try. You'd tear me apart. Everything I put you through, you took it, ingested it, and let it make you into a better man. How can you hate me for that?”

Crinkling my brow, I start for the door. “Hate's too good of a word. It implies I feelsomethingfor you at all.”

“Dominic, wait!” he growls. His shadow falls on the door and me. “I didn't say you could leave! You need to sit down and talk through your ideas with me. We need a fuckingplanon how to save our company! Myempire!”

I crush the doorknob so hard it makes the tendons in my hand twitch. “There's no saving it. It isn't happening.”

“What?”

“Our empty accounts are going to be discovered any day, maybe any hour. We're out of tricks. It's all over with.” I eyeball him with some interest. “You really didn't know that yet, did you?”

Silas swings his head side to side like he's in shock. “No. There's still hope. I know you have some programming skills. Surely you can manage something similar to what Joseph did? If you whip up some kind of security breach, steal some money from another bank, we can—”

“I'm not helping. Isn't that clear by now?” I bark a quick laugh. “Our only option is to go bankrupt.”

“The second we try that, the Feds will be on us, wanting to know where all the money in our banks went! Why we've been using personal funds to try and stem the fact we're bone dry!”

“Then sit here and wait for them to bring the handcuffs. I don't care.”


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