Page 109 of The Vixen

Father hums as he nods. “Except for today, when he stabbed your mate in order to interfere with a sacred ceremony.Your mate…” Father’s brows rise. “Whom you show no concern for. You should be demanding that swine’s execution, and instead, look at you.”

He scoffs as he rips the check in half, then again and again until small pieces litter the rug. “You claim your concern is for our people, but your only concern is for the outsiders who would have us burned alive if given the chance. You’ve betrayed me. You’ve betrayed your mate. You’ve betrayedyourself.”

He tosses what’s left of the check at me, a thirty million dollar bribe fluttering like snow. I use them like flower petals to garnish my path to him, my steps slow and calculated. I can feel my face harden while my eyes ignite.

For a long moment, we just stare—me, contemplating my life; him, daring me to speak.

I’m not like him. I don’t lose myself to my emotions. Ithinkthrough my actions. Iconsidermy options.

But I must be my father’s daughter deep down.

Because I make a choice so illogical, it is nothing if not ruled by emotion. My gaze moves to the laptop on his desk, the only computer in the Shadow Sanctum not being monitored…

Earning Sawyer’s forgiveness is hardly an influence.

“Only the weak are wounded by betrayal. The strong adapt.”

I let my gaze sweep over him, slow and deliberate, before shaking my head. “I’ve never seen you adapt to anything in your life. You will die having lived the same day a thousand times, your every move made in the shadows, never in the light. You’re aweak,patheticlittle man.”

For a moment, he just stares, his lips pinched, his eyes wide with both surprise and fury. I know the hit is coming when his face contorts, but I don’t move a muscle as his hand rises.

The blow of his knuckles across my cheekbone sends me to the floor, and a sharp pain shoots across my face. It dulls into a throb as heat rises to the area, the swelling setting in immediately.

I don’t make a sound. I don’t move. I just stay perched on my forearm and let my hair hang in my face while I stare at the floor.

“You ungrateful littlebitch.” He rears his foot back and slams it into my side. The kick knocks me onto my back, and my hand covers the rib I’m sure is cracked.

“After everything I’ve done for you.” He kicks me again, shifting my weight.

“Afterallthe authority I’ve given.” Another kick, this one harder than the last.

“I’m sorry, Father,” I whimper in my most pained, most pathetic voice. I try to force tears through my hatred, but he must have taught me too well because they won’t summon for him. “Please, Father.Please. I was only angry.”

He kicks me some more. In my stomach. In my ribs. Once in my face, sending blood rushing from my nose and loosening my front tooth. I try to press my tongue against it to make it fall out and even consider banging it against the floor just to finish the job.

He kicks me while I’m down—low-hanging fruit for his fragile self-worth. Feeding off of the vulnerables’ tears, basking in the praise of others. He demands not only respect and loyalty but adoration, and never does it occur to him that worthy men choose humility.

But I should thank him. Those with the largest egos are easiest to fool.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I cry, forcing my breaths to shake, faking whimpers the same as I had during my time with Sawyer.

In truth, this is where I learned to cower. The moments it was best and the moments to remain hard as stone.

When Father teaches, you become a pupil. You do as he says. You please him in every way he wishes. You take every opportunity to create goodwill.

When Father punishes… He wants you to feel pain. Heneedsyou to feel pain.

So, you feel it. You whine. You limp. You say the things that give him permission to hurt you the way he desires.

And later… His guilt will reward you.

Father steps back, his anger just barely easing. “Get up. Don’t bepathetic.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I stutter, pressing my palms to the floor and pushing myself a few inches before collapsing with a mewl.

“Get up,” he growls with a kick so hard it propels me onto my back. I cry and pretend to try to lift myself up. This time when I don’t succeed, he just sneers, his lip curling in disgust. He barges from the room and slams the door on his way out.

When he's gone, I let my body relax, taking a deep breath, eyes closed, facing the ceiling. When I open my eyes, I force myself to a sitting position. Pain radiates throughout my ribcage. I groan as I stand but don’t allow myself to hunch.