Page 42 of Save Me
“Oh, really?” he inquires, glaring at me. “And what makes you think I want you here?”
“Vogue wants us here.” End of story.
For a second, I think I’m about to meet the end of my story, but Vogue steps up, her spine straight as an arrow, undeterred by the looming presence of her father. Aaron’s eyes flicker to her, a silent question hanging in the balance.
“We’re stronger together,” she says with an unwavering voice. “And if I’m doing this, I need them with me.”
Aaron’s gaze lingers on Vogue, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes before he finally nods, the gesture terse but accepting. “Fine. But if even one of you steps out of line, Adam will have great delight in beating you into the fucking ground. One. By. One. Got it?”
Vogue smiles, a small victorious curve of her lips. “Got it.”
“Not you,” Aaron mutters and turns away to disappear further into his grand mansion.
Harry and Thayer disappear upstairs with Vogue’s bags, leaving Quen and me in the entrance hall with our father, who’s just stepped into view from the adjacent study.
“Callum, Quentin,” our father says, his tone formal despite the family ties. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Surprise,” Quen replies dryly.
The Duke of Woodhurst gives us a scrutinising look. “We need to talk.”
I can feel Quen tensing beside me, a coiled spring of frustration and resentment waiting to snap. It takes everything in me not to push him towards our dad and get this damn confrontation over with.
Instead, we stand there like a pair of statues, the air thick enough to cut with a knife. I nudge Quen subtly with my elbow. He glares at me but steps forward, his jaw set and his eyes hard.
“Talk then,” Quen spits out, his voice laced with years of pent-up anger and confusion. The Duke’s gaze doesn’t waver as he looks at him, but there’s a flicker of something that might pass for regret.
“In private,” Dad adds, tilting his head slightly towards the study.
I look between them—two men cut from the same cloth but worlds apart. “I’ll be here when you’re done,” I tell Quen, offering him a nod of silent support. He doesn’t acknowledge it, just stalks past Dad and into the room beyond.
As the door clicks shut behind them, I exhale slowly. This family drama could either unify us or shred what little fabric we have left holding us together.
Harry comes back down first, eyebrows raised in question as he spots me alone. “Where’s Quen?”
“Duking it out with the Duke.”
He snickers despite the severity of this clusterfuck.
“Vogue okay?” I ask.
“Yeah, settling in. All hell is about to break loose, isn’t it?”
I glance at the study door and sigh. “Probably.”
15
QUENTIN
I stare at the Duke,who is my father, and wait for him to start speaking. The silence that stretches between us is heavy, loaded with all the years of abandonment—if you can call it that—the hurt and the confusion that’s followed me like a nightmare. He clears his throat, but I can tell this isn’t easy for him either.
“We’ve lived separate lives for too long,” he begins, his voice formal, but I detect something softer underneath it.
“Don’t,” I cut him off sharply. “Don’t try to put this right with words. You lost that right a long time ago.”
He sighs, and I can see it’s taking every ounce of control he has not to react in kind. “I understand your anger, Quentin, and I know there’s nothing I can do to change the past or take away the pain you suffered...”
“You’re damn right you can’t.” My voice is cold, cutting through the tense air like a blade.
