Ruins of Temptation (Corium University Trilogy 4)

“I knew he was up to something,” Quinton growls. I can only grunt in agreement and wish I had done more than separate him and Delilah. I didn’t exactly have a reason to kick him out, but I could have come up with something. Anything, so long as this could be avoided.

Once again, I failed my daughter.

And I have the little bitch on the floor to thank for it. She’s still staring at the blanket under her, unmoving, barely breathing. “Well?” I bark, but she doesn’t flinch. “Are you going to speak up for yourself? What was the plan, Delilah? What were you doing here?” How could she lie to me? What the hell is wrong with me that you were able to so easily get past me?

She doesn’t say a word. I can’t say I’m surprised. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about her, it’s how fucking stubborn she is. But I also know how to break her—and how much fun it is when she gives me a reason to make her sorry for what she’s done.

If she thought she was sorry before, she’s in for a big surprise now. She hasn’t begun to learn the meaning of the word.

“Get her on her feet.” I back away from her, sick at the sight of her. All the freedom I’ve tried to give her. Every little smart-ass comment I’ve taken pains to overlook. I stopped locking the guest room door and look what happened. This is how she repaid me.

Aspen finally speaks up, lifting her head and looking over her shoulder to where Delilah now stands between the two guards. “What are you going to do to her?” she whispers.

“She’ll be taken down to one of the holding cells,” I assure her in as gentle a voice as I can manage, considering I want to burn the fucking school to the ground with Delilah still inside. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill hee.”

“We’ll go back to our room.” Quinton chimes in, pulling Aspen closer to his side. I would thank him for taking care of her, but even in my half-crazed state, I know how condescending it would sound. She’s my daughter, but she’s his wife. He has just as much of a stake in her life as I do, if not more so.

Quinton shoots one more murderous look toward Delilah before leading Aspen away. I notice she doesn’t look at the prisoner, and a blade pierces my heart. I allowed this to happen. I told myself it would be all right for her and Delilah to spend time together so long as they were supervised. The fucking lies I tell myself. When will I ever learn?

“Let’s go down to the cells.” Delilah only twitches slightly at that, probably surprised I’m going with them. If she is, she’s forgetting who she’s dealing with. As if I would let this be the end of it. Oh, no. Especially when the cells are soundproofed. Nobody will be able to hear her scream.

Except for me, of course, and I intend to savor every moment.

I follow a few steps behind, watching the men drag her down the hall. How could she? Is she that deeply broken? How much of what she’s told me is a lie? Was there ever a single grain of truth?

My daughter. There’s not a doubt in my mind about what Marcel intended to do once she was unconscious. Who’s he working with? There has to be somebody on the outside if he was able to get his hands on drugs strong enough to knock a grown man unconscious.

Am I kidding myself, thinking she’ll tell me? I saw what she went through when Quinton had her locked away, and she didn’t admit to a single thing then. What makes now any different? I won’t flatter myself into thinking I’ll make a difference since I haven’t up to now. Even knowing Aspen is my daughter, she still did this.

How much of this is anger over Aspen, and how much is anger for my own sake? Lauren would have a field day with this shit.

The guards shove her into the first room we come to. I have the sick satisfaction of watching her stumble and fall against the metal sink. “Thank you,” I tell them both as she struggles to get to her feet, her hands still cuffed behind her. “Now, leave us alone.” She gasps softly, and I have to wonder why she’s surprised. Doesn’t she know me by now?

I wait until the door closes before sighing. “I’m going to give you a chance,” I grit out through clenched teeth. “You have this one single chance to explain yourself. Tell me why you were there, who told you to do it, and you might make it out of this in one piece.”

When she doesn’t say a word, I can’t help but growl as all the old instincts rage within me. I’m barely holding them back now, hanging on by a thread. “Or you can pretend not to know a thing,” I continue, “and then I can’t promise you’ll live to see tomorrow. So which is it? Are you going to be upfront with me for once, or are you going to force me to hurt you?”