Page 29 of Reptile Dysfunction
Sloane
The silence in Bradley’s Tesla is suffocating. Even as we drive toward Marcello’s, I can’t stop thinking about the way Thad’s snakes drooped when I left, and the barely concealed hurt in those haunting tawny eyes.
Bradley makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat as one manicured hand adjusts the temperature controls. “So. The Gorgon.” His tone manages to make the word sound like something distasteful he’s found on the bottom of his designer shoes.
“His name is Thaddeus,” I say, keeping my voice neutral despite the heat rising to my face.
“Thaddeus, then.” Bradley’s fingers tap against the steering wheel, something that’s always irritated me. “I’m surprised Charles allows you to spend so much time with him. Hardly seems appropriate for the mayor’s daughter.”
“Allow?” My outrage somehow makes that into a three-syllable word, then snap, “Appropriate? He’s a respected teacher and community member.”
“He’s amonster enforcer,” Bradley corrects, his practiced smile not reaching his eyes. “And whatever little… exploration you’re going through is fine for your article, but let’s not pretend it’s anything more.”
I turn to face him fully, something hard and angry unfurling in my chest. “Exploration?”
“We all have our rebellious phases.” His condescending tone makes my skin crawl. “I dated a siren during business school. Exotic, exciting—but ultimately, impractical.”
“This isn’t about—”
“I went to considerable trouble to arrange this evening,” he interrupts, his tone tinged with injured pride. “The private room at Marcello’s isn’t easy to book, even for a Harrington. The least you could do is pretend to appreciate it.”
I shift uncomfortably in the butter-soft leather seat. “You know, I should have called to cancel. There was an accident at—”
“Yes, the Y. With yourmonster project.” His casual dismissal of Thad makes me feel as though molten metal is flowing through my veins. “Charles mentioned you’ve been spending quite a bit of time on that article. Though I wasn’t aware it required… home visits.”
The implied judgment sits between us like caustic gas. Through the windshield, Marcello’s comes into view—all warm lighting, expensive cars, and carefully curated appearances. My father’s world. The world I’ve never had the strength to rebel against until recently.
“What exactly is your problem with Thad?” I ask, my voice harsher than intended.
Bradley’s polished veneer cracks slightly, his jaw tightening. “My problem? I don’t have a problem. I have concerns. About you throwing away everything you’ve worked for—everything your father has built—for some… infatuation with an obsolete enforcer who is another species withsnakes for hair.”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
“I know his kind,” Bradley says, his voice hardening. “I know what enforcers did before the Revelation. The fear they used. The threats they made.”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Is that what this is about? Did Thad scare you off monster territory back in the day?”
His knuckles whiten on the steering wheel. Bull’s eye.
“That’s not—” Bradley composes himself with visible effort. “This isn’t about me. It’s about your future. Our future. The plans we’ve discussed.”
“We’venever discussed any plans.” The realization hits like ice water. “My father did. With your father.”
Bradley’s silence is damning.
“Pull over.”
He frowns. “We’re almost—”
“Pull. Over.”
Maybe it’s my tone, or perhaps he’s just surprised by the deviation from his script, but he complies, guiding the Tesla to the curb half a block from the restaurant.
“This isn’t you, Sloane.” His voice tries to take on the tone of a concerned mentor but only manages to sound like a condescending patriarch. “This new obsession with monster rights, that bleeding-heart blog stirring up the past—”
“Obsession?” The laugh that escapes holds no humor. “You think I’m doing this as a… stunt?”
“What else could it be? You had a promising career in New York, connections, a future. Now you’re running around with monster enforcers and writing exposés that nobody wants to read.”
