Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

" W hat the fuck were you thinking?" Ambrose shouted, bounding up the stairs. He shoved me against the wall in front of his bedroom, grip digging into my arms. He gave a shake as I bawled, the terror rendering me unable to speak.

Dr. Wilder all but admitted his plan, sending the men of White Dove to drag me to hell. He knew. He knew everything and he promised he'd see me dead for it. And this simple knowledge did more to my fragile nerves than learning I was being hunted at all.

Ambrose gave another rough shake.

"Vivian! Breathe! Breathe, please!"

I tried, I tried to suck in the air but my throat was so tight it refused to go anywhere. His handsome face smeared in a sea of tears and I'd have sunk to the floor if he hadn't been holding me so tightly.

"Goddamn, I suppose it doesn't matter that he heard you. He knew you were here. This is so much worse than I anticipated it might be." Ambrose pulled me into his arms, stroking my hair with a gentle hand. "Breathe, take a deep breath with me, come on."

I focused on his breathing, the way he brought it in, deep and full. He blew the air out and breathed in again and this time, I was able to do the same.

In and out we practiced together until my tears slowed.

"Feeling better?" he asked after a while.

"No," I admitted, craning my head back to get a good look at his face. My crying spell had left my own swollen and my temples aching. "What are we going to do? He knows, he knows you're going to fight him."

"We need to find Walt." Ambrose's jaw feathered as he thought. "If we play our cards right, we just might be able to keep you safe."

"Walt will be at Roosevelt House, won't he? Waiting to take me to class."

"Call him, I need him here now ."

Walt sat at the island in Oakwood House's kitchen, a drained shot of whiskey in front of him as Ambrose recounted our morning. I sat beside my brother, hair barely dried from the shower I'd taken waiting for him and one of Ambrose's cardigan sweaters tucked tightly under my arms in some weak attempt at holding myself together.

I was numb really, listening to it all over again. Like it hadn't even happened, like I hadn't lived it myself.

Ambrose stood, arms wide and gripping the counter as he finished. "What did my father say in the Chamber?"

"I'd rather forget it," Walt replied, swirling his empty shot glass. "Fucker stared at me the whole time he gave his orders, almost egging me on, you know?"

"I need to know what exactly it is that he said," Ambrose pressed.

"Dr. Greene summed it up almost verbatim. ‘By any means necessary, bring Initiate Beaufort's dove to the Rite,' they know you're keeping her here. They know you're fucking her." Walt pinned Ambrose with a venomous glare. "They don't like it. A few of them were plotting this morning, they know you won't surrender her, so they're prepared for whatever that means."

"What exactly were they plotting?" Ambrose's eyes found me, unsettled and drowning in fear.

"I don't know, they don't trust me. She's my sister." Walt leaned back, throwing his hands behind his head. "They got quiet when I came downstairs, I only caught a little bit of it."

"Beaufort and his goonies?"

"Of course. But it seemed bigger than just the four of them—they want the drummers involved. I don't think the flock will miss out on an opportunity for theatrics." It was sarcastic, disdainful the way Walt muttered it.

"Not with my father driving it, they won't."

"What are we going to do?" I murmured on the verge of curling in on myself.

Ambrose turned thoughtful, swiping the lenses of his glasses with his shirt until something dawned on him and his smile spread slow and steady across his face.

"They think you're here. They'll come for you here."

"Supposedly," Walt added.

"Then we move her to one of the Houses, or the library. We hide her there until they've finished here. If they cannot get her, they cannot use her. It's simple. She'll be safe after Halloween."

"But what about what your father said? About seeing me dead before he lets me graduate?" It couldn't be so simple, even if I was saved from the Rite on Halloween, it didn't mean his father wouldn't let it go or that I wouldn't end up being chosen again next year.

"My darling, we won't have to worry about my father very much longer." Ambrose offered me a soft, reassuring grin.

"How can you say that?"

He came around the island, his broad hands taking my face with sincere urgency. "We're all sick of it, if you are the catalyst to the end of White Dove, then so be it. I will do what I need to do to keep you safe, that is all that matters to me now."

"Jesus, get a room," Walt mumbled from behind.

I shot Walt a wry look and in that moment, I was reminded of our family's vacation house—one we went to maybe once or twice a year that now lay vacant and unthought of. "I could go to the lake house Upstate, hide there until it's over with."

"I want you near me. And I wouldn't put it past my father to already have thought of your family's houses. I believe it may be safer if we stay under his nose."

"He has a point, you know. Dad's a member of this shit, too, Vivian. He is as ingrained in White Dove as Dr. Wilder is." Walt drummed his fingers on the counter absentmindedly. "Right now, our family isn't safe."

Frustration bubbled forth in the form of a groan. "Then I'll stay at Roosevelt House while you confront them here. It's obvious enough they won't scour my room, right? Pattinson is practically crawling with White Dove men, it'd be impossible to get in without someone noticing."

"It could work, but then you won't be with me," Ambrose's thumb swiped gently against my neck. "I don't like the thought of that. Anything could happen at Roosevelt House; what if I can't make it to you in time?"

"That's a good point, doc," Walt mused. "Once they realize she's not here, they might go to all the obvious places. We could throw them to the wind with the lake house but there's no guarantee they'd take the bait."

"But we have to come up with something ." I chewed the corner of my nail. Ambrose's shoulders dipped with a sigh.

"We will," he asserted.

Walt scrubbed the back of his neck in frustration. "The pressure doesn't help."

We sat in silence, each of us fidgeted nervously as we considered our options.

There weren't many, if I was honest. Nothing that ticked all the boxes, that kept me out of harm's reach and safely in Ambrose's presence until the day after Halloween.

Unless…

I snatched the fabric of his shirt as the idea bloomed, practically checking off every single rule he'd set since the beginning.

"What if we go to the Gala instead?" I came to my feet. "We'll mingle with them! Everyone will be dressed up, we can wear masks, we'll be in a crowded room and it'll be harder to pick me off…and you'll be with me the whole night!"

Ambrose and Walt shared a brief glance.

"Actually, that's not bad." Walt was the first to speak as Ambrose's lips tugged into a wide grin.

"Have I told you that I love you? You fucking genius of a woman. I love you, I love you, I fucking love you." He kissed me, rough and with so much appreciation I was left breathless. "Let me make some calls."