Page 84 of Royal Beast
Clary hesitates, but Liam gives her a nod, stepping closer to the door in case Max tries something stupid. Reassured, I push the door open and step inside.
Max is propped up in the hospital bed, his face pale but his eyes sharp as they flicker to me. For a moment, he looks genuinely pleased to see me, but that melts away the second he catches the fire in my gaze.
“Darcy,” he starts, his voice rasping. “I?—”
“No,” I cut him off, crossing my arms as I stop at the foot of his bed. “You don’t get to start this. I do.”
His mouth closes, but the flash of irritation in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. I take a deep breath, keeping my voice low and measured.
“You put me in danger,” I say, each word deliberate. “You tried to control my life, to protect me in some backward way, but all you did was hurt me. You messed up, Dad. And I’m not going to be the one to fix it this time.”
“I was trying to keep you safe,” he protests, his voice rising.
I step closer, shaking my head. “Safe? You think I was safe? Guykidnappedme, Dad. He tied me up and shoved me in his fuckingtrunk! Who knows what he might have done to me!”
He opens his mouth to argue, but before I can press further, the door bursts open. Rose barrels into the room, her face lit with determination, Clary right on her heels.
“Rose!” I exclaim, startled. “You were supposed to stay outside.”
Rose plants herself at my side, glaring up at me with the stubbornness only a child can muster. “I wanted to see Grandpa Max.” Her gaze flicks between us, her brows knitting together. “Why are you fighting?”
The tension in the room shifts immediately. Max stares at her, his tough exterior cracking as guilt washes over his features.
“We’re not fighting, sweetheart,” I say quickly, crouching to her level.
She crosses her arms. “It sounded like fighting.”
Before I can say anything else, she turns to Max. “Don’t worry about me and Mama, Grandpa. Kellan is my daddy and he’s always there to protect me and Mama.”
Her voice is so earnest, so filled with confidence in Kellan, that it takes me a moment to gather myself. I glance at Max, and his expression is unreadable—torn between something close to shame and something like longing.
Max clears his throat, his voice softer now. “I didn’t mean for things to go this far, Darcy,” he says, his gaze dropping to his hands. “I… I just wanted Guy to take you for a ride, to talk some sense into you. I never thought—” He stops, coughing hard, his frailty suddenly stark against the backdrop of the machines keeping him stable.
I want to stay angry. I want to keep throwing words like daggers, to make him feel even an ounce of what I’ve been carrying. But the sound of his coughing is a brutal reminder of why he’s here in the first place. My chest tightens.
“I didn’t know,” he says finally, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t know he’d take things so far. I swear.”
I glance at Clary, who is hovering by the door, her expression torn. She looks at Rose, then back at Max, before letting out a long breath.
“Is Kellan treating you right?” Max asks suddenly, his eyes locking onto mine. “You and Rose?”
“Kellan adores us,” I say, the conviction in my voice leaving no room for doubt. “He would never let anything happen to us. He’s done more for me and Rose than you ever have.”
Max winces but nods, a small flicker of acceptance in his eyes.
I crouch down to Rose’s level again, brushing her hair back from her face. “Go with Aunt Clary, okay? I’ll be home soon.”
Rose hesitates but nods, giving Max a quick hug before she lets Clary lead her out of the room. Liam lingers in the doorway, giving me a slight nod before positioning himself just outside, a silent promise to keep watch.
I turn back to Max, pulling the chair closer to his bedside. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, Dad,” I say, my voice quieter now. “But I’m here. For now.”
His eyes flicker up to meet mine, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between us.
The room grows quieter as Max’s eyes drift closed, his breathing evening out. I stay seated at his side, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Seeing him like this makes me realize that despite everything he’s done, my father has always tried to protect me the best he can.
I adjust the blanket over him, my movements careful not to wake him. The anger that had been burning so hot inside me has cooled, leaving behind a strange emptiness. Part of me feels lighter, finally having said what needed to be said. But another part, the one that still remembers being his little girl, feels heavier.
The hospital monitor beeps steadily, filling the silence. I lean back in my chair, trying to shake the unease crawling up my spine. Maybe it’s the exhaustion. Maybe it’s the residual adrenaline. Either way, it’s hard to sit still.
