Page 98 of Long Live the King

He shoots his father a venomous glare and gets a punch to the stomach in answer.

“Ask me to stop.” His father crows, the sadistic glee clear in his tone. "Beg me to stop."

He’s getting off on this.

Rogue drops his head and grips his stomach in pain, but says nothing. His eyes meet mine briefly and fuck, I’ve never seen pain like the one clear in his gaze before. It physically hurts to look at.

It calls to me and jolts me out of my frozen state. The sight of his dad’s arm pulling back, rearing for another blow, pushes me into action.

I take a step forward.

“Stop!”

At first, I think I’m the one who speaks. But I’m not the one who utters those words, Rogue is.

"Please, stop."

His father’s fist pauses in the air and I stop mid step.

Rogue spoke those words to him, but they were meant for me.

They warn me to stay put.

His eyes drop to mine and beg me to not reveal my presence.

It’s only because of the way he looks at me that I listen.

“Interesting. You’ve never begged before.” If I thought his tone was gleeful before, it’s downright delighted now. It feels like he’s won a battle I don’t know about.

I turn my gaze away so I don’t look when he releases his punch and it connects with Rogue cheekbone, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“That one feels extra sweet.”

I take a step back around the corner, into the darkness of the hallway.

I’m just in time. Seconds later, his father storms out with one final parting blow.

“You were always a disappointment.”

I’m physically shaking.

It takes everything in me to stay hidden.

The moment he’s past me, I run into the kitchen. Rogue is standing upright, barely, gripping a chair tightly to help support his weight. His other hand rubs his jaw gingerly.

“Rogue! Are you alright? What hurts?” I’m frantic. My hands are over his cheeks, his neck, his chest, wildly checking him. “Ice! You need ice. I’ll get you some.”

I grab an ice pack from the fridge and wrap it in a kitchen towel before placing it against his cheek. His gaze lingers off to the side, completely dead.

“Rogue.” I say his name softly, lifting his shirt to check for injuries. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His hand snaps out and grabs my wrist, stopping me. He still doesn’t look at me.

“Go.”

“What?”

“Go home. I don’t want to see you right now.”