Page 32 of The Devil Takes

I was stumbling upon uncharted territory so I did the thing I did best, I spoke without thinking. “Some of it had holes and stuff so my friend is just…you know. Fixing them?” It seemed like a plausible enough excuse until I saw his face.

Storm clouds. Thunder. Dangerous waters.

“Fixing them?” Dad’s brow lowered, his jaw flickering with tension. “A few holes and you think shit needs fixed? What the hell is wrong with you?” Clearly he’d been waiting a long time to say this. Or in this case, a few short months since his last rant. “I didn’t raise you to be such a goddamn pussy.”

I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong. Were we really fighting about holes? What the actual hell? Even for Dad this was a new low. At least when he’d been angry in the past, it had been because of something normal, like…me being stupid—or crashing his car—or costing him more money because of my suppressants.

Holes?

Why the hell does he care so much about a few fucking holes?

“You think because you got a scholarship at this fancy little shithole you can toss out the stuff I bought you with my money?” His eyes flashed. “You too good for your old man now?”

Ah.

And, finally, I got it.

Bingo.

This wasn’t about my stuff at all, but the fact that he thought I was looking down on him. Had this whole day been an exercise in tricking me into a corner so he could fight with me about this? Maybe someone at his current job had said shit to him. Something about his son surpassing him or something. Either way, it didn’t matter.

It was clear the whole reason he’d come to visit me in the first place was to start something.

I shouldn’t be surprised.

I shouldn’t.

I knew that.

But my veins filled with ice anyway, and my eyes burned as I stared at my dad’s worn work boots and tried not to…to what? To cry? Hell. The last time I’d cried, I’d been six fucking years old. I didn’t get why his anger felt so absolutely shitty now. I’d known he was coming here for something like this, hadn’t I? That’s why I’d asked Brett for help in the first place.

But deep down, and I could admit this now, I’d been hoping that…fuck. That maybe for once in my life he’d been here because he was proud of me. That he wanted to see what I was making of my life and celebrate it.

I should’ve known better.

As always, I was just his fucking punching bag.

Annnnd I’d been quiet too long.

Brett’s voice made me jump and a warm hand gave my shoulder a squeeze. I flinched back automatically, though I quickly forced myself to relax when I realized it was Brett touching me and not my dad.

Even though I couldn’t smell him the way I was supposed to, I still caught a faint whiff of his scent. It was nice, like he was. Bland, though. Without spark.

“Percy treasures your stuff, sir.” Brett dove in without preamble, laying it on thick. All yessir, no sir, aye aye captain. My dad ate that shit up like crazy, though. I watched as his shoulders reacted incrementally, his eyes still narrowed and wary. I didn’t dare meet them again for fear of setting him off, so I just kept staring at his boots, then his laces, then his boots again.

Brett’s hand burned a hole in my shoulder.

It was supposed to feel comforting, but instead, it just felt wrong.

My bond mark itched.

I was glad I’d had the forethought to wear a turtleneck today. I’d made a point to buy a handful more of them with my last paycheck so I could continue wearing them religiously to cover up the back of my neck. Haden’s bite had healed but the coloring was stark against my skin, all purple and twisted through with black. Not normal at all. Even if I’d been allowed to mate like the other omegas. All it took was one look at the raised skin to know two things. I was an omega, and something was very wrong with my alpha.

My alpha.

Fuck.

Was that what Haden was?