RIOT HOUSE (Crooked Sinners #1) - Callie Hart Page 0,136

chest with every point he makes. “No more orders. No more commands. No more threats. No more hanging military school over my head, every chance you get. I’m an adult. I’ve come into my majority. And you’re done talking to me like I’m some unpleasant thing you’ve found stuck to the bottom of your shoe.”

General Jacobi glows with rage. “Fine. Then your tuition's finished. I won't pay for another thing, boy. That house you and your friends live in—”

“Is mine,” Wren spits. “The deed's in my name. And I'll pay for my own damn tuition. I'll cover my own expenses. You can't touch a cent of my money, and you know it.” He blows down his nose, hard, nostrils flaring. “Why don’t you sit back down, old man. You're fucking embarrassing yourself.”

Spinning, he crosses the formal dining room, taking me by the hand and pulling me away.

I guess he was angry about that comment, after all.

32

ELODIE

We escape Monmouth House with armloads of paintings and all of Wren's personal belongings from the attic. We check into the Hubert Estates County Inn, and Wren paces up and down like a lion, silent and furious. It takes four hours for him to calm down, by which point it's gone dark, and my jaw is aching from clenching it so hard.

At seven, Wren's phone starts ringing, and it won't fucking stop.

“My sister,” Wren grits through his teeth. “She probably wants to scold me for hitting the fucker. She's always just tolerated his bullshit, like none of it fucking matters. But it does. It fucking does.”

“I know. It matters.” I'd say more, but there are so many fucked up things ping-ponging around in my head that I can barely think straight. My own memories are hitting hard. I feel like I'm trapped, walled in by panic.

It wasn't you. It wasn't you, Elodie. You're safe. You're okay here. He's a million miles away. He can't hurt you.

Wren has no idea how similar our upbringings have been. The only difference is that he's big enough now to stand up to his father. I'll never be able to confront Colonel Stillwater the way he did just now. And that makes me feel hopeless.

The room we've checked into is beautiful, but neither of us has stopped to take in our surroundings. We've both retreated into our own little worlds, and I think it's going to take a while for either of us to return to reality again.

Wren's phone shrieks again, his ringtone blaring out in the tense silence.

“I thought you never kept that thing switched on?” I say.

“You're right. I should just turn the fucking thing—” He cringes when he looks down at the screen. “Fuck. She's messaging now, too. Apparently, he's gotten Harcourt involved.” He turns the phone off.

“Shouldn't you check in if the Dean wants to speak to you?”

“Better if they all have a beat to calm down. Everyone's heightened right now. I'm trying not to be, but—” He sits down on the edge of the bed next to me, lacing his fingers together, blindly staring down at his hands. “I'm sorry, Elodie. I told you he was gonna be polite and charming, and he really wasn't. I'm—I don't even know what to say. I could tell he was in a bad mood, but I didn't think he was gonna turn like that. I would never have taken you there if I thought for one second that he was going to be that shitty to you.”

“It's fine, Wren. Seriously. A few crass words from your dad aren't enough to affect me these days. I mean, Pax calls me a whore on a daily basis. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah. Well.” Wren's eyes harden. “I mind. I really fucking mind. Elodie,” Wren whispers. He's looked up now, but he isn't looking at me. His focus is locked on the window opposite the bed, which overlooks the hotel's swimming pool. “Tell me what's wrong.”

“Wrong?” I blow my cheeks out, pulling my shoulders up around my ears. “I mean, I just watched you put your father on his ass. That wasn't exactly a fun time.”

“No. You're anxious. I've never seen you this jittery before. You're scared of something, and I'm hoping to god over here that it's not me. 'Cause if it's me...” He laughs unhappily. “I don't think I would cope with that very well.”

“No! God, it's not you, I swear. It's just the whole thing. It reminded me of how things were with Colonel Stillwater back in Tel Aviv. Your