Page 104 of Ruthless Chaos

He pauses; he’s probably writing her name down. “Which family is she from?”

“Her file is redacted,” I say. “She doesn’t talk much about her family.”

I close my eyes, hoping he buys my explanation. It’s ridiculous for me to call her my girlfriend but not know much about her. Hopefully, he doesn’t realize it’s a lie.

My father doesn’t call me out on it. “Bring her home with you for the winter break.”

“Pardon me, sir?” My throat grows dry.

“You heard me, boy. Bring her home with you. I need to meet the bitch who has you making these stupid fucking decisions.” His voice is low, but I don’t miss the threat in them. “If you’re willing to fuck up everything we’ve worked for because of her, she must be the perfect girl and I can’t wait to welcome her to the family.”

Again, claiming my accomplishments as his own.

Wedidn’t work for anything. I did.

But of all the things I expected him to say, this wasn’t one of them.

Winter break is less than two months away. My attraction to Allie is one thing, but to introduce her to my father, to let her into myhome?

I want to tell him no, that I won’t do that.

But I can’t. This is my father’s way of challenging me.

If I back down, he’ll call my bluff and he’ll go out of his way to punish me for what I did to Keller—and whatever else comes to his sick mind. He might even involve Allie.

I can’t risk that.

“Of course, sir. I’ll bring her home,” I say.

He chuckles dryly. “Great. I must get back to quelling the fire you started. Next time you’re about to put my rival’s son in a coma, give me a heads-up.”

The line goes dead.

So, Keller’s in a coma. Good for him.

I sit in the booth, staring at the telephone for a while after my father has hung up, trying to gather my bearings. What the hell did I just agree to?

Things are moving too quickly for me to keep track of.

I only just got comfortable with the idea of my yearning for Allie. Now my father thinks she’s mygirlfriendand wants to meet her.

I told myself I would never have a girlfriend.

Not until I was sure whoever murdered my mother was dead.

I don’t plan to change that any time soon.

Fuck.

TWENTY-SIX

CASSIDY

The nurse clicks awayon her keyboard.

Her scraggly brows are drawn together in confusion, and she’s got bags under her eyes. Her stringy hair is pulled back from her face in a limp chignon.

By the looks of it, she hasn’t had a shower in a few days. Yuck.