Page 39 of The Broken Note

“You’ve been getting on my nerves.”

“That was intentional.”

His eyes go dark. “Don’t force my hand, son.”

“You’ve already forced mine.” I clench my jaw. “Let’s not hold back anymore, dad. I’d like to take a proper swing at you.”

Musical chimes flood the speakers.

Class is about to begin but neither of us moves a muscle.

Through the window, I notice the crowd multiplying. Some are fans here to watch Jarod Cross from a distance, but others are students.

Cadence is among them.

I can’t see her yet, but I know she has this lecture and I know she’ll be here soon.

“Leave.” Dad steps back. Slipping a pair of thin, circle glasses out of his pocket, he puts it on like a costume. “I have work to do.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He glances over me, his tone dry and mocking. “You’re suddenly interested in school?”

“I’m sure there’s a lot I can learn if I keep my eyes on you.”

His mouth twists into a bigger smile, but his gaze is as cold and frigid as winter. “My goodwill ends here, Dutch. I’m holding myself back for your reputation’s sake, but if you insist on staying, I’ll have to throw you out in front of everyone.”

My back goes ramrod straight. I give him a look that’s pure hell.

“The teachers here at Redwood are scared of you, aren’t they? But I’m not, little boy. I’ll show you what power is,” dad’s voice is raspy and threatening. “And when I embarrass you, when I show them how weak you really are, you’ll lose all the respect these airheads have for you. Do you want that, Dutch?” Dad reaches out and fixes my collar. His thick fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, scrape against my skin. “Do you want your kingdom to crumble?”

“Sir,” Lucien twists his neck and looks into the classroom, “do we let them in now?”

Dad’s eyes remain trained on me. “In a minute. Dutch was just leaving.”

The fury inside snaps and crackles. But he’s good for the threat.

We both know it.

My vision goes red.

My body tightens like a spring.

I pick up a desk as I leave and send it rocking over to its side.

Wood thuds and splinters.

Metal bangs.

Dad’s laughter flows eerily into my back, following the clatter of the overturned desk. I stumble outside, gritting my teeth so hard I’m sure they’ll crack.

The crowd makes room, but one person can’t step into the background if she tried. And hell, sheistrying.

I stop in front of Cadence who’s hiding behind a tall guy with a giant backpack.

“Come out,” I growl.

She inches forward, her steps slow and shuffling, her eyes wide.

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