Harrison took back his phone, not even glancing at the latest messages in The Capital Circle group chat.
Whatever those people said about the brutal video of Felicity being beaten–none of it mattered to him now.
His right hand curled tightly around his phone, while his left palm, still raw and throbbing from thirty strikes with a cane, pulsed with pain. Blood pooled in his hand, vivid and fresh. Medics stood nearby, but none dared step forward to treat his wounds.
He looked at Selene, his voice cool and brittle. “Are you satisfied now?”
Selene didn’t get a chance to answer before Harrison gave a harsh, mocking laugh. “Abusing your power to bully others. Impressive.”
Selene smiled, her expression bright and unbothered. “At least I have power to throw around. And you–do you have any?”
Her eyes sparkled, her pale, clear face lit by a deeper smile. “Next time, Mr. Vaughn, you’d better watch your back.”
Selene drew in a long, steady breath. The crisp air filled her lungs and washed away the tension, leaving her almost refreshed.
Harrison’s gaze grew colder, words catching in his throat, but Selene spoke up again, almost musing to herself. “So this is what it feels like to be chosen, to be protected. When I realize someone is standing up for me, it’s like every part of me comes alive again.”
She turned to look at Harrison, her eyes as clear as if just rinsed in spring water. “You were my husband once, but I never felt anything like this from you. Not once.” Harrison’s breathing faltered when he saw the self–mocking smile curve across Selene’s lips.
The punishment was over–fifty lashes. Felicity lay motionless on the ground, unable even to lift her head.
Victor Thompson, who had administered the beating, was breathing hard, his own hands cut and bleeding from the cane. Surrounded by Leo’s men, Victor only dared curse at Felicity, not at anyone else. He’d just seen firsthand how far Leo would go to shield Selene.
15.47
Victor glanced at Selene, his eyes narrowed, his opinion of her shifting in ways he couldn’t yet name.
Dames’s face was streaked with dried tears; now, there wasn’t even anyone to wipe his nose. He craned his neck nervously, calling out, “Flick, are you okay? Are you alright?”
Harrison was already barking orders at the medical team. “Get Felicity on a stretcher. Now!”
No one moved. Harrison followed their gaze, only to see Leo’s men tying ropes around Felicity.
“What are you doing?” Harrison demanded.
One of Leo’s men replied, “Mr. Vaughn wants Miss Felicity and young Damien to spend the night at the bottom of the hill.”
Harrison’s breath caught. “Damien’s only five! Leaving him out here alone all night–are you insane?”
As if Leo had anticipated every move, his subordinate added, “Sir said you’re welcome to stay and keep him company.”
Harrison fell silent, his face like stone. He turned on Selene. “Damien is your son. Are you really going to stand there and let them leave him out here, in the middle of nowhere, overnight?”
Selene’s reply was icy calm. “When he hid my whereabouts from the rescue team, did he ever think about whether Altair and I might be left stranded and helpless?”
Harrison shot back, “You’re an adult!”
Selene just laughed. “Well, you’re an adult too, Harrison. Why don’t you stay here tonight with your son?”
Harrison’s voice was sharp with accusation. “You’re his mother. Shouldn’t a mother be forgiving and gentle with her child?”
Selene met his gaze, unblinking. “Sometimes I wonder if Damien was born without a conscience–just like his father.”
The words hit Harrison like a punch to the chest, leaving him speechless.
Selene cast a disinterested glance at Dames before turning to Harrison once more. “Your son became an accomplice. Maybe it’s time you considered what kind of father you’ve been.”
212
15.47
“Star, let’s go.”
Selene took Altair’s hand and walked away, Luke Holloway falling in step beside them.
Dames watched them go, his vision blurring until he realized he was crying again. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. It must be the pain from the beating, he told himself, that made the tears come and wouldn’t stop.
His small body shook, as if someone had carved a hollow in his chest, cold wind rushing in and leaving him lost and shivering.
Victor Thompson could do nothing but watch as his own daughter was kicked down the slope, powerless to stop any of it.
3/3
