Chapter Six

Rhett

I have always known my father to be a brutal beast.

Brutal doesn’t even cut it. Merriam-Webster needs to invent a couple more words, because there are not enough of them in the English language to describe how much of a monster he is.

My body aches and stings all over, breathing is a nightmare I can’t escape, and my skin is already turning to a disgusting shade of blue and purple from all the bruises. To make it worse, Savannah is still doting on me despite telling her I needed to be left alone. I wish she didn’t have to be so perfect every time and remind me that I can never be that.

I want to snap at her and tell her to just fuck off, but then I look over at the bed opposite mine.

Cassian is seated there with his headphones plugged in, but I can tell he’s not listening to a damn thing. His fingers are constantly twitching and adjusting them over his head every goddamn second. His jaw is also grinding together so hard, and I’m not sure there’s anyone who will keep listening to music if it makes them that riled up.

I smile to myself.

Savannah being here makes him uncomfortable. I don’t know why, and frankly, I don’t even want to know why.

But I’ll be damned if I didn’t capitalize on his discomfort.

If Cassian wanted to play games that allowed my father to do this to me, then he could as well watch as someone who cared about me treated my wounds.

“Does it hurt right here, Rhett?” Savannah asks as she touches my bottom lip. Her voice is sickeningly sweet that it makes me want to gag, but I just keep my eyes locked on Cassian.

“A little,” I lie softly, letting my head tilt slightly into her hand. “But you’re here now, Savvy. It’s fine.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cassian’s grip tighten around his phone until his knuckles go white.

He rips his eyes away from me, turning his back to us entirely and staring out the window.

I feel an odd sense of satisfaction despite my pain.

But after another ten minutes, the game loses its flavor.

Cassian completely freezes, ignoring us so thoroughly that he might as well be a statue. The spite keeping me going evaporates, leaving me only with annoyance at my girlfriend I don’t want.

“Savannah,” I say, “just leave.”

She blinks, startled by the sudden change in my attitude. I can’t blame her to be honest. “But Rhett, the swelling—”

“I said leave. Now. I need to sleep.”

She looks hurt, but she gathers her things and slips out the door without another word.

I expect him to show some sort of reaction to her leaving, maybe relief, maybe he changes position, but the asshole doesn’t look back at me.

Groaning, I force myself up from the bed and drag my body into the bathroom. I turn the handle, and the second the water hits my skin, I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from screaming. It stings like a motherfucker.

That shit feels like I am being stabbed by several tiny needles; it’s even worse than when my physiotherapist made me undergo dry needling for constant tense muscles. I wash the dried blood off as quickly as possible, leaning heavily against the tiled wall just to keep my knees from buckling.

When I finally step out with a pair of sweatpants slung low on my hips, I am trembling from the effort it took me to stay upright. Getting dressed is a pain in my ass as I try to pull a loose t-shirt over my head. When I lift my arms, I feel a sharp jolt of pain that makes me freeze halfway, leaving the shirt trapped, a strangled gasp escaping my throat.

Through the thin cotton of the shirt, I can feel his eyes on me.

The unease creeps under my skin as Cassian is watching me struggle, and the humiliation of being this weak in front of him makes my blood boil. I finally manage to wrench the shirt down, panting as I sink heavily into the chair by my desk.

I need the painkillers.

My eyes scan the desk and land on the small orange bottle of pills. It’s right there, just a few inches out of my immediate reach. I lean forward, stretching my hand out, but Goddess, that feels even worse.

I’m so extremely weak that I can barely do anything. My fingers just brush the plastic bottle and knock the bottle farther.

Great. Just fucking great.

I hear a sigh of irritation followed by the rustle of sheets and then footsteps crossing the room. I don’t look up. I can’t.

Cassian rolls his eyes, leaning over my shoulder. He picks up the drug for me, but instead of setting it down, he shoves the bottle harshly into my open palm.

Our hands touch.

Just the feeling of his skin against mine sends something straight down my spine. It’s not pain—I wish it was. It is unfortunately that same feeling from last night as my wolf howls inside me, itching for more while Cassian remains completely oblivious to the fact.

I look up hoping to at least see something in his eyes, but there’s nothing. Cassian simply pulls his hand away as if he’s been burned.

Fuck.

I swallow the pills without water, desperately waiting for the numbness to kick in. But there’s one more problem. I forgot to rub the antiseptic ointment on the deep wounds I have, especially the ones near my shoulder blade.

I pick up the tube of cream, twisting my arm awkwardly behind my back to reach it, but it’s impossible. I am not exactly flexible, and my injuries make me even less so. I end up just smearing the ointment uselessly on my neck, swearing under my breath as tears of frustration prick my eyes.

I can’t let him see me cry.

But it’s too late as a single drop of tear falls from my eye.

I hear a slow, mocking exhale from across the room, so I look up through my messy hair to see Cassian looking amused.

“You know you can just ask for my help, right?” he says as he steps toward me. “I don’t bite.”