Mitchell threw back his head and laughed.
“But you are the only one who was recently caught fucking a girl in the middle of a public boxing ring. What would you possibly—”
Nick’s eyes flashed with pure hatred.
“I’ll tell them you’re a monster who used to beat his son!”
It was like someone poured icy water on a fire. The raging back and forth screeched to a sudden halt, as the room locked down in dead silence.
I felt like my entire body was on pause. My heart stopped beating, my lungs constricted shut. In my mind, I was running through a little catalog. A roster of every mark or ancient scar I’d seen on Nick’s body the previous night. Wondering about each one of them in turn. Tears sprang to my eyes as I turned slowly to look at him, but he had eyes only for his father.
Never before had I seen such an expression. It went beyond simply angry, the man was incensed. He was panting as if he’d just run a marathon, and his fingers had tightened into fists upon the balled up sheets. Every line on his face was etched in fury. His eyes danced with rage.
No matter how powerful a man Mitchell Hunter might be, even he took a step back. Out of self-preservation? Out of shame? I would never know.
But even then, with his son’s threat still echoing in the air, he made his final move.
“And Abby’s picture would still be out there.”
All at once, the fire died in Nick’s eyes. Like flipping a switch. His shoulders tensed, then wilted as he finally allowed himself a single glance to the side.
“Dad...please.”
It was softer. Defeated. Almost pleading. My heard broke a thousand times over, as I realized that Nick Hunter could beg after all.
Mitchell said nothing. He no longer had to. The game was his. Instead, he stared coldly at his son’s face as Nick tried one last time.
“You would actually do that to me?”
A ringing silence filled the void. Answering the quiet question.
Yes.
Worse than looking hurt. Worse than looking devastated.
Nick didn’t look surprised.
“I’ll be sending over Harold later today to begin going over the logistics.” Mitchell shook out his coat as he prepared to leave, suddenly business-like. “Does noon work for you?”
Nick said nothing. He just stared blankly at the wall.
Mitchell smiled. “Splendid. Noon it is, then. Until next time.” He nodded at each of us as he swept toward the door, flashing me a wicked little smile as he went. “Always a pleasure.”
A moment later, the elevator dinged. A moment after that, the doors shut and he was gone—leaving us sitting in that impossible silence.
I sat there for as long as I possibly could—growing more and more panicked with each passing second. Nick hadn’t moved an inch since his father left, I didn’t think he’d even blinked, but I was unable to sit still for even a moment longer.
“Nick,” I finally murmured, twisting a little so I was angled his way, “Nick, I don’t know what I’m supposed to...” I trailed off and tried again. “What can I—”
He was out of the bed in one quick motion, moving so fast, he didn’t even disturb the sheets. I gazed up at him in shock, head spinning, but he couldn’t seem to meet my eyes.
“I have to go,” he murmured, pulling on his pants while keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “I’m sorry, I just...I have to get out of here.”
I didn’t try to stop him. I just sat there—numb.
The second he found a shirt, he shook out his hair and headed for the door. He didn’t stop for a minute to consider where he might actually be going. He didn’t even pause to pick up his wallet or phone. It wasn’t until he was halfway out the door, that he turned to glance back.
Our eyes met for only a second. Only a second was all he could take.