Veils of Rivalry Chapter 78

Cole's POV

“I’m going to get us out of here,” a voice whispers. It’s soft, calming. The person is stroking my hair, gripping my hand tight, repeatedly telling me that we’ll be okay.

The voice keeps going, saying soothing words while the hand keeps stroking. I feel like I’m in an oven one second and shaking with how cold I am the next.

When the hand vanishes, I feel something tug at my side, and I flinch all over and try to sit up, but the person pushes down on my chest to keep me still.

“I need to change your bandage. Stay still, Cole.” There’s silence, and then she whimpers. “The infection is getting worse.”

I blink my eyes open, my vision distorted. I can only see shadows, so I blink a few more times, screwing my eyes to focus.

Someone, a woman, with long hair and a warming, sad smile, stares down at me. “Don’t move. The stitches aren’t my best since I didn’t have much to work with.” She sighs, discarding the bloody bandage into the trash can beside her, then opening a saline water pack. “You need⁠—”

Her voice is cut off by someone coughing, their footsteps coming closer. She pales, her hands shaking as she cleans around my wound and then pulls the bandage from its packaging.

It hurts, but I’m more focused on her face. It comes in and out of view and she has bruises on her cheek and jaw, her lip cut as if she was punched.

“How is he?”

My father comes into view, my vision still blurring, but I can see claw marks down his face. Mom put up a fight. Good. But he’ll look better six feet under.

“He needs to go to a hospital,” Mom says, her voice filled with desperation. “I can’t stop the infection.”

With a hum, he crouches down beside me, inspecting my side like he’s praising his work. “He’ll survive. Pack up. We’re leaving in an hour.”

Her eyes go wide, and she stands when my dad does. “Where?”

“I told you. The fucking unit is out looking for me. I know a guy who can make us disappear.”

“You must be more insane than I thought if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I hate⁠—”

She topples onto the ground with how hard my dad back-hands her, and she pants, gasping, tears springing in her eyes as she looks up at me.

I want to stand up for her like I used to. I want to get to my feet and jam my fist in his mouth and snap the motherfucker’s neck, but I’m too weak to even keep my eyes open as they fall shut again.

“He’s bleeding through the bandage,” Dad scolds her. “Clean him up and get ready to leave.”

He grabs my jaw, squeezing as he leans down to me. “I promise we’ll be a family again, son. If you stop fighting me, I’ll be proud of you. I’ll be your father, not your enemy.” He shoves my face. “Sort him out, Rachel.”

Then he’s walking out again, grabbing a gun from the table filled with tools and straddling the seat, studying the weapon.

My attention flicks back to my mom, who’s trembling as she kneels beside me, tears soaking her cheeks, her jaw rattling so much I can hear her teeth clashing together. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, Cole.”

I want to tell her not to be, but I cough instead, and it causes pain to rocket through my body like I’ve been struck by a car at high speed.

She gives me a drink of water that sputters from my mouth when I cough again. Fuck. I feel like my body is shattering with each harsh breath.

“I did what I could with what I have,” Mom says, her eyes glassy. Her lip twitches when she looks down at my wound. “Your father made me become a nurse. He wanted me to treat his abuse at home, so no one would ever be suspicious.”

I stay silent, staring at her.

A tear slides down her cheek. “I failed you. I failed you so badly, Cole. I should have run with you sooner. The moment he became aggressive, I should have packed our bags and snuck out while he was at work. When he said I should go study to be a nurse, I thought he was getting better.” She lets out a breathy, fed-up laugh. “I should have known he only wanted me trained so I could treat us at home.”

My lips flatten. I never saw it that way.

“You deserve to be happy, Cole,” she says. “You deserve a good life. If you hold on for me, I can figure a way out of this. We can get home, fix your relationship with Allie, and if you need to, we can move away. Or I can give you money for you to move away.”

Dad scoffs in the distance. “You are home. And why would he want her? He doesn’t even like pussy. Ain’t that right, son?”

My body hurts too much to pay him any attention, but he keeps going anyway. “Did you know he was fucking your stepson?” He lets out a haunting laugh that echoes around the warehouse. “Or was he fucking you?”

“What are you talking about? Cole has a girlfriend.”

“No, I don’t,” I grit out painfully, and the words make my body vibrate with even more pain, so I close my mouth and screw my eyes shut.

“Stop talking. You’re only hurting yourself. I said we can sort this out. All of it,” she says. “You can fix whatever is going on between you and Allie. She’ll forgive you for whatever you’ve done.”

Dad springs up from his seat and marches toward us, gripping a flashlight now. “He’s fucking gay, Rachel. Did you not just hear what I said about your new, piece-of-shit husband’s son?”

Her brows draw in. “No. Blaise and Cole can’t stand one another.” Glancing down, she looks at me questioningly. “What is he talking about?”

I roll my eyes, tensing as I try to shift to the side to put distance between us since she’s still kneeling beside me and stroking my hair. “He’s not lying.”

She frowns deeper. “I’m not following.”

“It doesn’t matter. Cole is done with the Rowle family, and so are you.” Grabbing Mom by the hair, he yanks her to her feet. The urge to stand and attack him is strong, but the pain and weakness is worse. He drags her to the table and forces her to bend over it.

I try to get up. I fucking try, feeling the stitches my mom did ripping as I force myself to sit upright the moment he unzips his pants.

Seeing stars and feeling blood piss out of my wound and down my leg, I put one foot in front of the other, dropping to a knee with a wince and getting back up again. Vomit rises in my throat. My fingers curl around a pipe, but the dragging of the metal makes my dad freeze his movements before he can enter her, my mom’s cries hitting every wall around us, begging him to stop.

He turns to me, tucking himself away and letting out a laugh. “What are you going to do with that?”

Everything around me goes in and out of focus, my lungs seizing as sweat coats my face, unable to put my foot forward for one more step. I gulp down a lump, swaying back and forth, the pipe slipping from my fingers before I fall forward.

Dad catches me, still laughing. “I think it’s time to tie you up.” He steps to the side, dragging my limp body with him, even though my mind screams for me to fight.

He sets me down on the ground, holding me up against a metal beam built into the structure of the warehouse. My arms are pulled behind me, and I hear the click before the cold metal tightens around both of my wrists.

“That’ll keep you out of my way until it’s time to leave.” He slaps my cheek. “I’m proud of you for wanting to protect your mother, though. Really fucking proud. Maybe you’re not weak, after all.”

Mom cries as Dad pulls her toward me. “Sit behind him,” he orders.

He cuffs her to the beam too, our cuffs crossing over, and I can feel the warmth of her body, even though there’s a metal beam between us. I’m mentally being comforted by my mother – my mind is tricking me into a dream where I’m safe, under the bed, hidden, and my mom is protecting me like she should have when I was a kid.

His footfalls grow silent as he goes outside. I hear him talking to someone on the phone—forty-five minutes until someone arrives. Something about a boat to somewhere, new identifications too.

“Cole didn’t have his phone. I saw it lying on the ground when I took him.” There’s silence, and then he adds, “No, I smashed her phone up and threw it in the quarry.”

My eyes focus on the sign near the entrance. Allertons Factory. I’ve heard of it before, but I can’t remember where.

I roll my head to the side. “Mom?” I think it says it audibly—maybe I mouthed the word?

“Yeah?”