Obedience Lessons

Chapter Forty-six

Dylan's POV

I didn't sleep that night, too consumed with rage and pain and a need to obsess over the hope Andy had held out. Andy... I couldn't think about him right now. I shoved him into a mental box and closed the lid tightly.

I hadn't realised my mother's fingers were on my face until she spoke, low and as concerned as I'd ever heard her about me, "Who did this to your face?"

I shook my head until it was out of her hands and turned away from her. I didn't want to see the woman who sat passively by rather than confronted issues. Seeing her reminded me too much of the person I truly was, and I couldn't afford to be that person today.

"You always were such a beautiful boy. Both you and Liam, my dark princes." She played with my dark hair and spoke as if she didn't think I could hear her. Maybe she was still asleep in some way. "Does it hurt?"

I felt the pain threaten to trigger tears and I nodded, then my voice broke free, "Yes. More than you know."

Alyssa greeted me with a particularly bright smile before pressing into me with a hug. She whispered into my hair, "First the shoot. Wait until after."

I rose my eyebrow. She was in on this too? Andy hadn't mentioned her at all, but I knew better than to question it right now. Plenty of time to talk. I lowered my lips onto hers, knowing that the cameras would be expecting some kind of action. That was okay. It was worth it this morning. I felt her smile against my lips and she whispered, "That was the first kiss I felt something."

"Don't go fucking falling in love," I teased and I heard my mother scoff behind me. I ignored her and took Alyssa's arm, "Shall we?"

"Yes my battered prince, we shall." How Alyssa managed to be graceful in those six inch silver heels I had no idea, but she ended up supporting me as we entered the manor, stopping on practically every step since the photographer had us do every fucking pose possible.

"How'd they rope you into this?" I asked through my teeth as I held the pose I was given.

Alyssa pushed back her shoulder into a casual and cute shrug that fit my pose perfectly as she replied, "Easily. I caught them in my house, and offered to help them find the valuables. This is much better than that."

I laughed, genuinely and the cameras went crazy, capturing the moment.

Somewhere along the sidelines, my father was making a call. Who are you talking to? Your cleanup crew? Who did you kill this time? How was last night's drug run, huh dad?

Every move of his was sinister somehow, as if he was the snake in the Clarke's garden. Yes. That was it. The fucking snake.

Alyssa's giggle drew me back to the woman on my arm and I flashed a smile for the picture just in time. The next had me pressing a kiss to her temple, then her returning the favour on my jaw.

"Can we get into the fucking house now?" Alyssa finally snapped. "It's gonna rain any minute now anyway."

My heart was pounding after the shoot. I had waited for the 'camera's out' call by my father and now that it had come I didn't know how to go forward.

I was to pick one of three locations, the atrium, the study or the living room. From there, I wing it. Hades owes me just this one wish, take my father now.

The envelope of pictures burned against my back underneath the deep blue button-down shirt I'd worn and I kept worrying about it being lost somehow. I had done all that Andy asked so far. Lay low and keep it cool. He can't suspect anything at the Clarke manor otherwise we'd be dead meat. He'd make the first move eventually. He wanted those pictures of his time with his dominatrix friend back. Bile rose at the thought of him in any sexual encounter.

Instead of consider it too long I refocused. Objectively, killing him shouldn't be too hard. I might even make it in court if I plead insanity. What did I really have to lose? This man had taken everything from me. My mother. My brother. My boyfriend. My personal life. My freedom... He held them all and jingled them all teasingly out of my reach. I knew one day I'd join the keychain if I didn't do something.

He called my name as if reluctant to say anything to me and my nerves go into overdrive. I'm a tad overzealous when I answer him awkwardly, telling him where I was in the room when it was obvious. Alyssa had already left, claiming to have a headache or something of the sort.

"You have something of mine."

My mother frowned, "Really?"

"He knows what I mean Miranda," was all my father said in reply.

"Yeah. Yes, I'll go get it," I said and sprang out of the chair.

My father's eyes narrowed on me and he got up slowly, "I'm coming too. Miranda, we'll be right back, try not to have too many smokes?" I watched as he leaned down to kiss her cheek and I raged inside. How dare he pretend to be the loving husband? After what he'd done - what I knew he had done. He was always a hypocrite. I just didn't realise just how deep it went.

I picked up the envelope upon entering the study, right from underneath a large encyclopedia then turned to face him, holding it out. "You make a good submissive," I tested.

His nostrils flared when he collected the pictures and checked inside, sorting through the photos rapidly and reaching to the bottom to retrieve a camera. "This is all?"
"It's all," I said. Then decided it was now or never. "Except..."I reached behind me, pulling my shirt out of my pants and freeing the next envelope. "Except for these. This is your real talent after all isn't it?"

He eyed me closely again, but didn't reach for the pictures. "I'll never understand you. How you think pictures somehow give you power over me because it gave me power over you. Stupid. Just like whatever game it is that you're playing right now."

Lead sank in my stomach. "I've never played your games, dad. I'm many things but I've never come close to you." I take out the pictures myself and hold the first one up.

I can finally read his face. Confusion. Then recognition. Then anger. Pure anger. I remember seeing these photos for the first time last night. It had felt like being branded with hot irons. I imagined him going through a similar process. When he advanced on me I backed away, dropping the bunch but he just stoops and picks it up, eyes scanning each.

"Where did you get these?" His voice was hollow. Flat and emotionless he stared at me.

"Does it matter? You did that, didn't you?" Say it, I egged him in my mind. Say it. I killed my son.

"You always see me as some kind of monster don't you? The kind of person that enjoys pain and hurts people because it's fun, but you don't get it. I'm a father. I'm here to protect my family."

"By killing one of them! Do you think you're such a great father still? You put your hands around Liam's throat and squeezed. And squeezed, did it feel good?" I didn't know where the words were coming from anymore but they spilled over and refused to stop. "You are a monster."

"Really Dylan? I'm the monster? You still can't remember what happened the night Liam died? I protected you, these past two years. I mean, seriously? My son killing himself and I wake up to you huddled over his body, with blankets, after you cleaned the scene? Really now? Yes, Dylan. I'm a great father. I protected you, because I didn't want to lose two sons on the same day."

He was confusing me. His words muddled my brain, adding details I vaguely remembered as he spoke. The sharp scent of cleaning agents on my hands after I wiped the floors and washed my hands of the blood. I could still see the blood sometimes under the nails.

"Did you kill my son, Dylan? I never asked you this, but I will since I have the feds on the other end. Did you kill Liam?" My father's pale eyes challenged me to say another word.

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A/N: Pinky promise this ends well.

I don't have a pinky.