A smirk curves the edge of my mouth as I set the mug down on the floor and turn my body away from the door. I lean forward slightly and begin to rub my hands in front of the fire. If she thinks that her pouting and sulking will make me feel bad after the night I’ve had, then she’s got another thing coming.
“Good morning, Xoe,” Bryden says as cheerfully as he can. Even the Stepfords have their limits, I guess.
“Would you like anything in particular for breakfast?” Xoe asks in a hushed tone and I roll my eyes. After the years I spent alone with Skylar’s fucking attitude, moping isn’t going to work on me.
“Richter?” Bryden asks.
I glance over my shoulder and see his eyes on me expectantly. He’s giving me the choice and I know it’s only because he sees me as a man now, but I just shrug and shake my head before I turn my attention back to the fire.
“Anything you’re up for making it seems,” Bryden tells Xoe with a chuckle.
“Do you want me to check on Sierra and Cleo too, Daddy?” she asks before she leaves the room.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. Richter will go check on them shortly.”
“Good morning,” she calls out to me softly. I let my eyes wander over to her for a moment, hold the gaze I can tell is painful for her to keep, then nod before turning back to the fire.
I’ve had enough of this bullshit.
I pick up the mug, shoot back what’s left of the hot brew, then get to my feet doing my best to ignore the scalding feeling inside my throat. “How do I get to my sisters?”
Bryden rubs the bridge of his nose and I can almost swear he’s hiding a smile on his face at the same time, but when he drops his hand and lets out a heavy sigh, I wonder if I’m just seeing shit.
Lack of sleep will probably do that to a person whereas exhaustion most definitely will. And it just so happens that I’m on both ends of that spectrum and I want my own fucking bed in my own fucking home with both of my sisters.
“Which way to Skylar and Cleo?” I ask Bryden evenly.
He gets to his feet and shakes his head. I think he can tell that the lesson he tried to teach me has fallen away like the trees I chopped down, but the difference is that he can’t make an inferno out of fires that I refuse to light. Unlike him, I wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire, and I sure as hell wouldn’t start one for him if he were as close to freezing to death as I was.
“Are you sure that you don’t want to take a little longer to relax?” he asks with that smile of his.
I shake my head vehemently. “I’d like to see them now.”
“Alright, follow me then,” he says as he leads the way out of the room and into the hallway.
I’m still gripping the mug tightly in my hand, and while its empty now, it provides me comfort in an odd way. It also gives me the idea to crack the fucking thing across the back of Bryden’s head, grab my sisters, and run the moment we get to them, but I know I won’t have the strength to pull off such a daring plan right now.
I look down at my hands when the searing pain of the hot mug finally starts to set in. Now that I’m warming up and my nerves are coming back to life, I can feel pain again and truly understand the shit he just put me through.
They feel as raw as they look, the blood is almost completely dried on the cuts I received when splintering the trees just the way he wanted them. I know that the smallest misstep will more than likely break the scabs and cause the cuts to bleed again but I can’t focus on that now.
I have my sisters to save.
A house of my own to get back in order.
And none of this has to do with Bryden or his family.
A renewed determination starts to course through my veins and I begin to chew on the inside of my mouth to ignore the now searing pain in my hands.
Bryden stops at a door by the bathroom, raises his fist, and knocks gently as I move the mug from one hand to the other.
Maybe if I divide the pain evenly, it won’t hurt so much when—
“Richter?”
The shriek draws my attention away from my hands as I glance up and almost instantly black out from the rage rising within me.
What greets me when I look into the room is a betrayal that I never knew I would have to face.
Not from my own fucking wife.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I shout at Skylar, the mug dropping from my hand and shattering on the floor.
She tries to push Casey away, who’s now looking at me with a smile on his face while my fucking wife straddles him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
He leans up and gives her a gentle squeeze before he lifts her up and lets her slide off the bed. Skylar grabs for one of the sweaty, betrayal-stained sheets to cover herself and immediately begins to cry.
In shame?
Was she forced?
I don’t know and I don’t fucking care. She’s not his to touch.
And as suddenly as the rage sweeps over me, the calmness settles. I take a deep breath, walk into the room paying no mind to the three young women now huddled in the corner and extend my hand down toward Skylar.
Her sobs are falling on deaf ears as Casey watches us carefully. If he makes a move to
