Devil's Sinner (Fallen Dynasty 3)

I smirked. Cabot was pushing it, and I couldn't not take the bait. I leaned back without a care in the world as I said, loud enough for him to hear, "Not so innocent anymore."

"I'm going to make you pay for everything you've put her through," Cabot hissed. And then it was his turn to smirk at me. "Although, it looks like somebody beat me to it."

I touched my face on reflex. The bruise was still swollen, my jaw tender and swollen from the kick to the face I'd suffered by one of Peterson's guards. It still fucking hurt - though the injury wasn't as badly wounded as my pride had been.

"So," Cabot went on, more confident about his seeming victory. "Connor responsible for that lovely bruise, is he?"

"He is," I replied. There was no point in hiding the truth. Violet's father needed to learn the truth, and soon.

"Good." The reply was a low grumble, and the old man seemed pleased by my answer. "Now get to the fucking point, Windsor."

"Right," I got out through gritted teeth. "About your precious son-in-law..."

"What about him?"

"I'm pretty sure he's abusing his wife. And I also think he used her, your older daughter, to trick Violet into leaving me."

"You're pretty sure?" Cabot smirked at me. "What good is that? You got anyone to corroborate this idiotic story you've put together in your messed up mind?"

"You're just going to have to trust me on this one." I tapped my fingers against the plastic handles of the chair, reminding myself I'd have to take a scalding hot shower at home to get rid of the prison germs. It was a small luxury, but one Violet's father sure as hell didn't have while he was stuck here.

"Why would I trust a Windsor?" Hugo Cabot shot daggers at me with his eyes. "And over my son-in-law, of all people?"

"I'm telling you the truth."

"You'll excuse me if I find that a little hard to believe, with our history." The man glared at me. "After all, your father is the one who put me here."

I furrowed my brows. "You don't know if that's true."

"I've heard he's been bragging about it," Cabot hissed. "Telling everyone and their goddamn mothers he's the one who put the mighty Hugo Cabot behind bars."

I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose and wincing at the pain from my bruise. "I heard something similar from him too, but I don't think it's true. My father wouldn't make a move like that without me knowing about it. And besides, it's not his style to stab someone in the back without them knowing he's the one responsible for their misery."

"You may be right there," Hugo reluctantly admitted. "Your father was always the type of man who liked to look into his prey's eyes before he went in for the killshot. He doesn't put them in a locked cage, that's for fucking sure. How else would he gloat about his success in bringing his victims down?"

I nodded silently, and we sat in quiet agreement for a few moments. Finally, I leaned forward, the receiver pressed firmly against my ear as I spoke. "Look, Hugo. Can I call you Hugo?"

"No," the old man grunted, but I ignored him and went on.

"Hugo, I'm not here to reignite the family feud. All I want to do is find Violet."

"So you can do more despicable things to her?" Cabot's eyes were flaming with fury yet again. "No, I don't think so."

"Please, Cabot." My voice came out in a low grunt, but I wasn't below begging Cabot for his cooperation. I needed to find Violet, and fast, before that pervert got his claws stuck in her and damaged her beyond repair. "Her well-being, her safety depends on you now. If there's anything you can tell me about Connor, anything that would help at all, you need to come out with it now, before it's too late."

The man behind the glass regarded me with cool indifference. There was a spark of interest, maybe even of compassion in his eyes, but it went out almost the second it appeared, and I knew then and there I wouldn't be getting any help from Hugo Cabot.

"I'll never trust a Windsor," he finally said, loud and clear. "If my daughter left... well, maybe she finally came to her goddamn senses."

I knew I wouldn't get anything else out of him, and I slammed the receiver down, getting up and walking the hell out of there. My only consolation was that Cabot was getting beaten to fuck in there. The fact that he wasn't worried sick about his youngest sickened me. Did Peterson really have him wrapped around his little finger, just like he did Georgia? It looked like it.

I walked out of their prison with my hands in fists and my jaw painfully clenched.