Page 89 of Crush

“I … don’t have … what you’re looking for.”

Five. My skin peels back as if scalded with rivulets of blood flowing down. I arch up in pain, my head tipping back to the domed ceiling, my jaw falling open in a silent scream.

“Tell me, son. Don’t make me explain your beating to poor Julia.”

Julia. My stepmother. Not my mother. He never considers my mother. Nor should I, since she was apparently bought off when I was a toddler and living it up in Sweden.

“Thorne. Live up to your name! Show your loyalty to your subjects! They’re witnessing this. They’re seeing their next king fall.”

My father’s words barely reach my ears. I’m heaving, listing between past and present in my head. Brief pictures of my mother—black hair, white-blue eyes—and Ember, ash-blond framed by porcelain, her eyes forged from the darkest mines.

“Thorne! I will start again!”

Father always means what he promises. I raise my head, noting every member who looks on with relish and separating them from those who turn their heads in mortification. Jaxon is the only one who doesn’t move, fixated on me, fusing his determination into my bones.

“Don’t give up,” he mouths.

I won’t.

The sixth lash makes me groan, tipping forward. My face would’ve crashed into concrete had it not been for the viscounts holding me. I blink in and out of consciousness.

“I can do this all night, boy. Until you’re nothing but a bloody puddle at my feet. What are you good for at this point? You’re failing me. Your loyalty is skewed. You have no allegiance to the Nobles.”

“I … do,” I grit out between my teeth, glaring at the floor, my blood staining the creamy stone. “I won’t give you … what you need for your own devices. You don’t have the Societies … as your priority. You’re worried about your … business. The drugs—”

This whipping is worse than all the others that came before. A guttural cry comes from the trenches of my belly, echoing across the catacomb and barreling into every ear. Some members cower. Others clench their fists and urge my father to keep going. A vacancy for the title of Noble prince is all they can fucking see.

“One more, boy, and you won’t be able to withstand it. Why must you keep this from me? Why spread lies instead? All I live for is the Nobility. I would die for them, for you. There are no drugs, no business practices that my viscounts don’t know. I am their king, as I am yours. Prove your allegiance, son, and this will all stop. Show these members you haven’t been emasculated by a female. By our enemy.”

“I…”

“Yes?” My father’s exhale hits the top of my head.

“… won’t.”

Cool air replaces his bated breath. “So be it. If you think my actions are complete after I lay you on the ground, you are sorely mistaken. I’ll move on to the one you protect the most. She has a challenge tonight.”

The muscles in my back tighten. The resulting sting nearly sends me into hell.

Father chuckles. “Didn’t you know? I see your second-in-command failed to tell you. Dear Jaxon answers to me above you and his father after that. You forget, your power doesn’t leave Winthorpe walls, unlike mine.” Father pretends to mull this over as I expel haggard breaths, refusing to react further to his incitement. “I will bring Ember to the walls of death, or I will turn her into my supplicant. It’s really up to the girl what path she wants to take. Much like the choice I’m giving you now. Tell me, which do you think she’ll choose? You, or the Societies?”

She hates me. Ember hates me. There’s no way she’d choose to save me over securing a future I so blatantly took away from her. Twice.

Closing my eyes, I submit to the lashing and the fact I might not wake up after the pain. It’s either that or give him Ember. Not an option. My father gets every single thing he wants, but he won’t have her.

The whip cracks in the air. One last warning.

I picture it arcing down, laying a lasting scar on my back—

“No! No more! Dad, stop!”

Though it takes my last efforts, I lift my head, searching for the source. When I find it…

No. Don’t do it, I convey with a glare. This isn’t yours to give.

Jaxon steps forward, holding up his phone.

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