Page 72 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part One

When I enter the kitchen, my father sits at the island with his phone in his hand. Dad flicks through several screens quickly, ignoring me when I cross the room and pull an energy drink from the fridge.

Taking a long pull and draining half of my Red Bull, I stare at my father while he taps away at the keyboard, a severe frown on his face and the skin between his eyebrows tensing.

He pauses for a second, still staring at the screen, and I take the moment to speak.

“Good morning, Pops.”

Dad continues to stare at the screen unblinking, as if I haven’t said anything, but with a quick jerk, he reaches into his pocket and tosses the keys to my Porsche on the marble between us.

I palm the fob, letting it anchor me and take another long drink.

“Well,” Dad says, leaning back and dropping his phone on the counter. “You don’t have to worry about your little mishap. Everything’s taken care of. You don’t have to be concerned about that coming back around.”

He places his hands in a steeple beneath his chin, leaning to rest his elbows on the white surface. I hum in response and take stock of my space.

My apartment is neat but sparse. I’m only here to sleep, study, and sometimes eat. Not that I’m a gourmand. My culinary repertoire consists of take-out or microwave meals. Thank God for Marcella, Dad’s chef. Every week, she drops off frozen meals that I only have to pop in the oven.

“That’s good to know,” I reply coolly, then raise the can to my mouth. I let the fizzy liquid sit on my tongue for a moment before swallowing, and the stretch causes the shallow cut at my side to tug and burn. “Thank you. Both of you.”

I put the drink back on the countertop and point my attention to my father first, then to Riale, who leans against the wall in silence.

“Now,” Dad says, his voice calm, “do you want to tell me what the fuck actually happened?”

The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees, and Riale and I share a look.

“I walked in on an attempted rape. Someone I know. So he had to be stopped.”

I pinch my lips together, biting back the words I want to say, that I didn’t intend to kill him.

But fuck if it felt good to do so.

You’re a fucked-up mess, Sandoval.

Dad hums, nodding once as he studies me, then he releases a sigh that seems to come from his toes.

“I’m proud of you, son.”

My eyebrows go to my hairline because this is not what I was expecting him to say. I know my father is a little bent—he’d have to be to have covered up the mess Rainn caused with Bambi. But for him to say he’s proud of me?

I don’t look at Riale this time.

“Thank you,” I reply, fighting to keep my voice even.

“You did the right thing. Some people just aren’t fit to be on this planet,” he says, still keeping a bored look on his face. His phone beeps, and he flicks his eyes down to the screen, reading the message, before looking back at me.

“However,” he says with another one of those soul-deep sighs, “you’ve caused fuck-all of a mess, son.”

His expression cracks then—only for a moment. But in that second, I see something that has me deeply concerned.

He looks…afraid.

“What do you need me to do, Dad?” The words come out through cold lips.

Dad’s phone pings again, and he looks sick when he looks down at the screen. This time, he picks it up and seems to contemplate his response before tapping a few letters on the screen.

“I don’t need you to do anything, Storm,” he says once the message sound goes off in awoosh.“Just…stay focused on the semester. You’ll be done soon, and things will be easier.”

I don’t know what he means by that at all.

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