Page 101 of Sticks & Serpents

I hesitated, not wanting to burden him with my worries but feeling his presence grounding me all the same. “I… I don’t know,” I admitted, running a hand through my hair nervously.

“What did he say?” His voice was steady, anchoring against the storm brewing inside me.

“Just that he needs me to go home.” The weight of those words hung heavily between us, filling the space with tension. “It didn’t sound good.”

Damien watched me carefully, his eyes searching mine as I processed my father's call. “I’m coming with you,” he said firmly, and I didn’t argue. Somehow, it felt right to have him by my side.

We drove in silence, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. I glanced at him occasionally, catching glimpses of his focused expression as he navigated through the rain-slicked streets. His grip on the steering wheel was tight, knuckles white, as if he were preparing for a battle rather than just a simple trip home.

When we finally pulled up to my house, my heart raced. The familiarity of the place felt heavy with dread. As I stepped inside, Damien followed closely behind me.

“Holly?” my father’s voice called from somewhere in the house.

“In here,” I replied, trying to sound steady despite the fluttering anxiety in my stomach.

I heard Damien’s footsteps behind me as we headed down the hall. He moved with an intensity that made it clear he was ready for whatever might come next. My heart pounded louder as we approached my father's study.

When we stepped into the room, my father looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Damien standing beside me. The tension escalated instantly; it was palpable enough to cut through the air like a knife. But he didn’t say anything—just stared at us both with an unreadable expression.

“Sit down,” he commanded without preamble, gesturing toward a pair of chairs across from him. My pulse quickened as we both took a seat in front of his desk.

I could feel Damien's presence beside me like a shield against whatever storm my father was about to unleash. My stomach twisted in knots as I prepared for what was to come—another confrontation, another chance for my world to tilt on its axis yet again.

“Let’s talk,” my father said slowly, his voice steady but low enough that I could tell this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

“Damien’s parents filed a complaint against you, Holly.”

His words struck me like a punch to the gut. I felt Damien stiffen beside me; the tension radiating off him like heat from a fire. I blinked, confusion slamming into me.

“What?” I managed to choke out, disbelief coursing through my veins.

My father sighed, rubbing his temple as if the very thought of what he was about to say pained him. “They’re claiming you attacked his mother. That you were… enraged with jealousy.”

Disgust washed over me in waves, my stomach turning at the accusation. “That’s a lie.” The words escaped my lips with a fervor I couldn’t contain.

His mouth tightened into a thin line, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to assess my reaction. “They’re saying you want Damien’s father.”

The room dropped into silence, and I could feel the air grow heavy with the weight of his words. My heart raced in my chest, pounding against my ribcage like it wanted to escape. “That’s ridiculous,” I snapped, anger bubbling just beneath the surface. “I’ve never wanted anything from them!”

My father remained stoic, clearly unfazed by my outrage. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if bracing for a fight. “The Sinclaires have influence, Holly,” he said slowly, choosing his words with caution. “You need to understand how serious this is.”

I glanced at Damien out of the corner of my eye, searching for any sign of support or reassurance from him. But he remained silent, his jaw clenched tight as he stared ahead—lost in whatever turmoil brewed within him.

“How could they even think that?” I pressed on, desperation creeping into my voice. “What happened back there was between us—it had nothing to do with them!”

“They’re trying to protect their reputation,” my father replied sharply. “And they see you as a threat.”

A chill ran down my spine at that thought; it made everything feel even more twisted than before. My mind raced with all the possibilities: What would this mean for Damien? For us? Would they really try to tear us apart over some fabricated story?

I took a deep breath, determination flooding through me despite the weight of their claims hanging over our heads like a storm cloud ready to burst. I wouldn’t let them win without a fight.

Then Damien moved.

Fast. Sharp. Violent.

His hands slammed against my father's desk, the force of it making me jump. His voice shook with rage, a tempest I had never seen directed toward anyone but himself.

“They fuckingwhat? Look at her fucking face! I saw it happen. My mother hit her first!”

---