Page 49 of Scornful

"Dad," he says, his voice shaking with fury. "Got something you need to know. This motherfucker"—he points at me—"has been fuckin’ Astrid."

The room goes dead silent.

I can hear my own heartbeat, feel every eye on me.

Fenrir's face goes through several expressions—confusion, realization, then pure rage.

His voice is quiet, which is worse than yelling. "What?"

"Ask him," Emil spits. "Ask him if he's been sneaking around with your daughter."

Fenrir turns those cold eyes on me. "Is this true?"

I straighten my shoulders. No point in denying it now. "Yes."

The room explodes.

Brothers shout, some saying I need my ass handed to me, others trying to calm things down.

Through it all, Fenrir just stares at me.

He moves faster than a man his age should, his fist catching me square in the face.

I don't block, don't dodge. I take it, blood filling my mouth.

"You took an oath," he snarls. "You swore loyalty to this club, to this family."

"I never meant?—"

Another punch cuts me off, this one to the gut.

I double over but force myself back up.

Astrid's voice cuts through the chaos. "Dad, stop!"

She pushes through the crowd of brothers, Charm right behind her.

Her face is pale but determined as she puts herself between Fenrir and me.

"Move," Fenrir orders.

"No." She stands her ground. "You want to hit someone, hit me. I'm the one who started this."

"Astrid—" I start, but she cuts me off with a look.

"This is my choice, Dad.Mine. I'm not a child anymore."

"You're my daughter," Fenrir growls. "And he," he points at me, "took advantage of that."

"He didn't take advantage of anything," Astrid says firmly. "That man treats me with the most respect and love than I’ve ever had, and honestly, I’m in love with him, Daddy."

The words hang in the air like a bomb about to go off.

I stare at her, stunned.

We've never said those words to each other, never put that label on what we have.

Then again, isn’t it too early to be saying this kind of stuff?

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