Chapter 3

Ryder footsteps echoed down the hallway, measured and unhurried. Only after he disappeared did the crowd finally breathe again.

"Unbelievable." A student said.

"That's new," someone else said, disbelief in their voice.

“Nearly everything about that was new,” another added quietly.

Bryan released the breath he didn't know he had been holding. His knees nearly buckled. He turned to find Derek already on his feet, wiping the last of the blood from his lip.

"You were... brave," Derek said.

Bryan tried not to smile, but he failed. His eyes gave him away...bright, relieved, something softer flickering behind them.

"Do you want me to walk you to the campus clinic?" Bryan asked.

Derek nodded easily. "Yeah, sure.”

They walked side by side, leaving the whispers and stunned stares behind.

***

The nurse clicked her tongue as she dabbed antiseptic against Derek’s split lip. “How did this happen? A fight?” she asked, but Derek only shook his head.

“I didn't take you for the type to fight back, Derek,” the nurse continued, narrowing her eyes slightly. “What really happened?”

Derek opened his mouth to answer, but Bryan spoke first.

“It was my fault.” His voice was quiet but firm as he looked at Derek. “And I’m deeply sorry.”

Derek smiled. It was small, crooked, a little bloody… but it was real.

"How cute," he muttered.

Bryan’s eyes widened instantly, and heat rushed across his face so fast it almost hurt. The blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and down his neck until he felt completely on fire.

He cleared his throat loudly, far too loudly.

“I should go. I have a class now,” Bryan blurted out quickly. “Take care of yourself.”

The words tumbled out in a rush, and before Derek could respond, he turned and practically fled from the clinic.

He didn't go to class.

He went to the library, found the darkest corner, and sat there with his head in his hands, trying to calm a heart that refused to slow down.

****

Instead of his apartment, Ryder drove home in silence. The Whitmore mansion loomed at the end of a private driveway, all cold with empty windows. It had never felt like home ever since he moved there. It felt more like a cage... but with better lighting. He parked his bike, killed the engine, and sat there for a moment, staring at the front door.

His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, and he pulled it out to see it was a text from his father:

‘Come to my study. Now.’

Ryder inhaled slowly, then exhaled before he got off the bike and walked inside.

The study was on the second floor, a massive room lined with leather-bound books no one had ever read. His father sat behind a mahogany desk, swirling whiskey in a crystal glass. He didn't look up when Ryder entered.

Theodore Whitmore was a handsome man, but in a cold and cruel way. His hair was silver at the temples, and his jaw was sharp. He had built an empire on other people's backs and called it ambition.

Ryder's mother had been one of those backs. A mistress, a secret, a woman discarded when she became inconvenient.

"You asked to meet," Ryder said.

Theodore set down his glass and rose from his chair. In three long strides, he crossed the room and punched Ryder across the face so hard that Ryder's head snapped sideways and his lip...already split from the fight...burst open again. Fresh blood gathered and dripped down his chin.

Ryder didn't move or wince. He had learned not to.

"On your fucking knees," Theodore thundered.

Ryder lowered himself to the floor, jaw clenched. The hardwood was cold against his knees. He had done this before, many times even. The ritual was always the same.

Theodore snapped his fingers and two guards stepped into the room, one carrying a leather strap.

"Fifteen lashes," Theodore ordered. "For embarrassing this family’s name."

Without a word, Ryder placed his palms flat on the floor and lowered his head.

The first lash came down across his back. The leather bit through his thin shirt, leaving a line of fire. Ryder's jaw clenched, but no sound escaped him. The second. The third. Each stroke was precise, and brutal. The guards had done this before too.

By the tenth lash, Ryder's shirt was torn, with blood seeping through the fabric. His vision blurred at the edges.

At the twelfth, Theodore raised a hand, halting the men.

The guards stepped back and left the room without a word.

Theodore crouched down in front of his son. He grabbed Ryder's chin and tilted his face up, forcing eye contact. His thumb wiped a smear of blood from Ryder's lip...that beautiful, ruined lip, still somehow pink and plush despite the damage.

"If you don't behave," Theodore said softly, almost gently, "your bastard sister might really die. Would you like that, Ryder? To be free of her?"

Ryder's hands curled into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. But he didn't speak, he just stared at the man who had given him half his stupid DNA and none of his love.

Theodore released his chin roughly and stood. "Get out of my sight."

Ryder rose and walked calmly towards the door. Even as his back screamed and his lip throbbed, he didn’t let it show. He never did. As he reached the threshold, he looked at his side. Derek was leaning casually against the doorway of the study, arms crossed, his cheek freshly cleaned and bandaged. His brown eyes glittered with something that looked like triumph.

Derek smirked.

"Good boy," he whispered as Ryder passed. "Now you know your place."

Ryder kept walking.

Behind him, he heard Derek chuckle softly… the chuckle of someone who had never been struck by their own father. The chuckle of someone who had orchestrated the whole thing.

Ryder climbed the stairs to his room, closed the door, and slid down against it until he was sitting on the floor. He pressed a hand to his split lip and stared at the blood on his fingers.

He thought of Serene; her laugh, her pale face against the white hospital sheets, the way she still believed he could save her.

He had to save her. She was the only reason he endured any of this, the only reason he bowed his head and let them strip pieces of him away bit by bit.

Even if it destroyed him, he wasn't going to give up on his only sister.