Duke: Chapter 36

Go to class. Act fucking normal. That’s the task we’d agreed to after we left the club and Hunter behind. But how in the ever-loving fuck do I do that with the ugly truth of what my father did to Lennon staring me down? My father—Lennon’s stepfather—raped her. I rub my hand over my face while I listen to my professor drone on and on about nothing nearly as important as figuring out whether Lennon understands or has any idea of what I know to be true.

One look at Bear and Mason’s faces told me they’d come to the exact same conclusion I had. Really, there’s no other answer. And the sick part is that while it’s possible it happened before he ever met her mother, he’d definitely realized his little faux pas before they got married. So, he fucking knew what he was doing. He raped a young girl, then a year later went through with marrying her mother. Oh, and he did a fine job covering it up, too. Hell, come to think of it, he never had a beard in his life until the fall of my senior year. I’d even questioned that motherfucker about why he’d chosen to grow one. He’d given me some bullshit answer about Nikki liking him with some scruff.

The real reasoning is obvious now that I know the truth. He was hiding his perverse nature from the victim who lived in his home. Lennon doesn’t remember everything from that night. They’d worn masks to hide their identities. They’d drugged her so that her memories are nothing but a fog. But it’d seem the ear-to-chin scar he has from a car accident was something she’d noticed, a detail that’d remain locked inside her head until we took her to that awful room. My eyes crash shut as an image of him heaving over a much younger Lennon infiltrates my brain. I have never in my life wanted to hack another man’s dick off so fucking badly. My stomach revolts, and the bitter taste of bile rises to the back of my throat.

All the shit she’s been through—the nightmares, the sleepwalking—it all fucking makes sense. She lived with her rapist. I wonder if maybe he didn’t eventually marry Nikki to keep tabs on her daughter. And when that didn’t work, and she was making him nervous, he pushed her off on me. The more nightmares she has, the closer she might come to remembering the horrendous thing that happened to her at his hands. I would also bet my entire inheritance that this was why he was having Quincy and Arik screw with her. I should have seen it when he was talking about having her undergo psychological evaluation. Sure, Dad. Push her to the brink and watch her go fucking crazy. That’s the nice, stepfatherly thing to do.

Little did he know, in sending Lennon to us, she’d secure three men to protect her from anything he’d throw her way. And he—actually everyone involved—are in for a whole world of hurt.

And Juliette? What happened to her that night? We know nothing for certain. It makes my guts twist into impossible knots, thinking about the possibilities. I exhale harshly, rubbing my hands over my face for the millionth time. It’s not a wonder the OG Bastards had mostly kept us away from the club all these years. They weren’t ready for us to know the depth of the shit they swim in on a regular basis or just how filthy they get.

I know we have to talk to Lennon. I don’t want her blindsided. She hadn’t wanted to talk about any of it, insisted she was fine and we could discuss things later. But how the fuck do I do that to her—bring up something that’s hurt her so badly? I think she wants to be blissfully ignorant like she had been until we walked into that place today. Is it possible she’s pieced things together and knows who raped her? Does she know anything about Juliette? I hadn’t wanted to ask her about that either. I’m terrified that if we keep adding to the strain Lennon’s under, she’s going to break.

An incoming text gets my attention, so I smoothly pull my phone from my pocket while assuming an interested-in-the-lecture face for the benefit of my professor and glance down at the phone.

My palms dampen with sweat. I’m certain I’ve already thought of where he’s going with this. I tap out the obvious.

We’re waiting in Harrington Hall for Lennon as she exits her calculus class. Her brows shoot up when she sees all three of us, but she walks right over. “What’s going on? I can tell there’s something by the look on your faces.”

Bear grimaces. “We think we oughta head over to Hawthorne Hall to explain why Elliot was targeted.”

Lennon carefully looks at each of us, her gaze finally landing on me. “Will we be telling them everything? Like, what happened to Juliette?” She puts a hand out when I go to speak. “Because I’m okay with it.” Her blue eyes look so tired, but she pins them on me, her shoulders sagging as if she carries an enormous weight.

I wrench my gaze from hers to question Mason and Bear whether I should tell her now, but before I can even get across what I’m silently asking, Lennon puts her hand on my arm, drawing my attention back to her.

“I know Tristan’s beard hides the scar I saw in the flash of memory I had. After making the connection between the OG’s club and the place I was raped, there’s really only one logical conclusion, right?” She takes a deep breath. “Don’t freak out. But I think I was sure when I looked into your eyes. They’re so similar.”

“Fuck.” I don’t know what else to say.

She grabs my hand. “Don’t think like that. Seriously.” Scraping her teeth over her bottom lip, she continues. “I thought it through, then went to the bathroom in the middle of class. Threw up. Cried. Took some time to think.” Her gaze drifts down for a moment, and her hands shake as she brings them up to cup her cheeks. She releases the deepest, most agonizing breath I’ve ever heard.

There are no words that I can say to make this right. My heart can’t take this. What he’s done to her … god, I want to kill him. “Lennon, I’m sor—”

She shakes her head as she puts her finger to my lips, her sad eyes boring into mine. “You are not your father. You don’t owe me that apology.” I’m a split second from pulling her to me so I can soothe away some of the hurt she must be feeling when she locks her determined eyes on us. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t know exactly what happened to Juliette that night.” Her brow arches and lips purse. “But I want to make Tristan pay for what he did to me, and what the OG Bastards have done to probably dozens, if not hundreds or even thousands of girls—but most of all, I want justice for whatever they did to Juliette. So, if you think the first stop is Hawthorne Hall, I’m in.”

I reach for her, pulling her body close to mine. “You are the strongest person I know, Lennon Bell. The fuckin’ strongest.”

Ten long minutes later, I pull our SUV up the steep drive to Hawthorne Hall. I keep going over and over in my head what I need to say, and at this point, it’s one big jumble, so I hope I can stay calm enough to explain what’s happening in a concise, logical way.

“How do you think they’re going to take this?” Lennon grits her teeth, staring up at the old estate, a little in awe.

“Oh, about as well as you’re expecting.” Bear chuckles for a few seconds, then abruptly stops. “Fuck. Here I am laughing, and this is so fucking far from funny.” He gets an odd look on his face. “Not a bit of it,” he murmurs.

I really want to know what he’s been sitting on that he needs to tell us. The only thing I can figure is that it’s something he learned from the conversation with Hunter. I catch his gaze, and he jerks his head, his eyes closing briefly. Okay. Not now. But later.

Not having seen the exchange, Mason pops his door open. “Yeah, we’ll just call it awkward laughter and give you a pass. I think there’s only one way to find out how they’re going to take it.”

“Let’s get it over with, then,” I grit out, worried we have even more shit about to be slung in our direction. I wrench my thoughts from whatever is going on with Bear and allow my eyes to scan the exterior of their estate. Fuck. I’ve held so much anger toward Kingston for so long, and it was horribly misplaced. I’m not looking forward to the conversation I have to have with him. But … I’m willing. And it’s necessary.

I exit the vehicle, and as soon as we’re all together, we march up the stairs of the stately porch, and I ring the bell. We wait. And wait. I guess I could have texted Kingston to make sure they’d be here. I’ve got his number. But fuck. He might’ve said fuck off, then it’d be a whole thing. And this is not something I want to discuss with him via text.

To my surprise, the door swings open a moment later, and Archer stands on the other side. He frowns, tucking his thumbs behind his suspenders. His gaze travels over our group, and he shakes his head. “I thought my eyes were deceiving me. But nope, my cameras don’t lie. The Bastards have arrived.”

Kingston appears from somewhere behind him, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he studies us with shrewd eyes. His voice comes out growly and low. “This is kinda unexpected and fucked-up of you to come here after what happened at the auction.”

I nod. “I get that. But we wouldn’t be here if it weren’t important.” Looking past them, their initiate, Elliot, is coming down the hall, her steps quick and sure at first. She slows as she sees us in the doorway, apprehension sliding over her features. Cannon is right behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, then as they come to a stop in the middle of the foyer, he draws her under the protection of his arm. Touch her and die is written all over his face. We won’t be getting near her without going through him first.

Archer exchanges a look with Kingston and shrugs. They don’t know what to make of us being here. Taking on his role as head of the house, Kingston looks me dead in the eye. “Look, we’ve had a lot of shit happen in the last forty-eight hours around here. We don’t need this right now.” He runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head. “So, you’ll have to excuse us when we say we aren’t interested in getting into whatever you’ve got going on.”

I exhale hard. “I know we don’t see eye to eye, but we’re not looking to start anything.” I pull Lennon into my side. “We’d never have brought Lennon if that were the case.”

Mason steps close on her other side. “We have some things to share with you that you need to know.”

Bear clears his throat behind us, and I turn my head to see him nod toward Elliot. “We want to make sure you have all the information necessary to protect Elliot.”

“We have some other things to share, too. Things I know. Have remembered.” Lennon places her hand on my chest. “We’ve got a lot going on right now, too, and we don’t want it to spill over and affect you.” She clenches her teeth together as she pins her eyes on Elliot. “And it might.”

Elliot tugs Cannon along with her as she comes forward, nudging her way between Kingston and Archer. She stares at Lennon, her eyes squinting before she nods. “I think we should give them a chance to explain.”

Kingston huffs out a breath, giving me a cold stare, but when he turns his head to meet Elliot’s gaze, that same stare warms. He finally nods, replying with a gruff, “Yeah. Okay. Let’s stop talking in vague fucking circles, then. Come on in.”

We enter Hawthorne Hall, which is a first, as they never fucking reciprocate with events, and I have to say. I’m impressed. It doesn’t have the modern stylishness of our home, but instead it’s a place that has obviously stood the test of time. It’s old money through and through.

As we walk through their home, Bear clears his throat, getting Kingston’s attention. “We need someplace where we won’t be interrupted. This is a private conversation.”

Archer turns on his heel and walks backward toward whatever destination they have in mind. He grimaces, shrugging slowly. “We had a bunch of shit go down. Too much to explain. But our other two initiates are out back, and Dane isn’t home yet. We trust him with our lives, so no worries there. That’s all of us that are left. This is a safe space now.”

Jesus, do we even want to know what the fuck he’s talking about? Probably not a bad idea to be in the know … but it’ll have to be a story for another day.

We end up in their living room, taking seats on one of the plush leather couches. Kingston and Cannon sit in large armchairs across from us. Elliot gets pulled onto Cannon’s lap, and Archer perches on the arm of Kingston’s chair.

I hesitate, running my hand through my hair, but then Lennon puts her hand on my thigh, squeezing. “Just tell them.”

Kingston looks mildly perturbed, but I meet his gaze and hold steady. “There was recently a push to get Murdock Mikaelson out of prison. We don’t have all the facts or information, but we know their initial plan was to use Elliot to draw out her uncle, who was Murdock’s trial lawyer and supposed friend.”

Elliot’s eyes widen. “My mom’s brother, Isaac. I haven’t seen him in years. What the hell?”

Bear sighs. “Yeah, there’s a reason for that. He’s in hiding. The night we hauled off with you—if we hadn’t done that, you’d have been drugged and had who knows what done to you. Maybe they’d have taken compromising photos or a video that they’d have then used to lure Isaac out of hiding. We don’t know the exact plan from that particular angle, but that would have been the most pleasant version.”

Archer’s brow raises. “How do you know any of that?”

“Because they took me that night instead,” Lennon quietly says.

On her other side, Bear’s face goes paler than fuck. Yep. He totally has more information he’s sitting on.

Lennon drags in a ragged breath. “It’s all one big clusterfuck, but we thought you should know. Murdock is out, so Elliot shouldn’t be in danger, but we can’t be sure.”

“How the fuck did he get out?” Cannon’s gruff, raspy voice catches most of us by surprise as his gaze swings to Mason’s.

“Because they found better leverage.” Mason clears his throat. “Me. He discovered my mother had an affair, and I’m not his son. Thank fuck, I guess. I’m still wrapping my head around all of it.” Mason’s dark eyes meet Elliot’s. “This feels really fucking weird to say, but Isaac is my father. My mother’s journal will confirm it, but a simple DNA test will provide all the proof we need. For all I know, it’s already happened. They need what? Some hair?”

Elliot sits up straight, her eyes bright. “Yes. A swab test is preferred, but hair with the follicles still attached would be enough.” She gives us all a half-smile. “Sorry, forensic science is kinda my thing.” After a moment, she looks at Mason with wide eyes. “So … you’re my cousin?”

He gives a disturbed chuckle, followed by a smirking smile. “It would appear so.”

“Weird,” Elliot breathes out, leaning back against Cannon, clearly shell-shocked by the revelation.

“Anyway,” Mason continues, “they forced him to admit that because of his relation to me, he had a massive conflict of interest in representing Murdock. I’m sure money swapped hands and who knows what else to get him out, but he was released after serving thirteen years.”

Kingston sits forward, elbows on his thighs with his hands clasped together. He lowers his forehead to them, as if he’s thinking the deepest of thoughts.

I can’t afford to wait for him to get his head screwed on straight, so I forge on. “Honestly, that’s the least of our problems.” My teeth clench as all eyes focus on me. “We’ve also discovered that our fathers, among all sorts of other dirty deeds … are likely running a sex trafficking ring out of the Hawthorne Country Club. Their poker nights are a cover for it. They bring girls in to wait on them, and then …”

Lennon curls herself into a ball. “I got caught up in it.” Her eyes flick to Kingston’s. “Your sister did, too. We were both drugged, and I was raped.” She hesitates, wiping her hands on her thighs. “I’m really sorry to tell you this, but I believe Juliette was, too. Then they dumped us in the parking lot of the diner.”

Kingston gives Lennon a blank look at first. “Stella’s.” He swallows hard, eyes shutting as what she’s said hits him. The room is dead silent for several beats before he looks up. His eyes are glassy as he holds out his hands. “Who?”

I hate that the emotion in his eyes is digging right inside my damn heart.

From beside me, Mason rasps, “They were drugged. Lennon remembers very little. She’s only today remembered enough to confirm who assaulted her.”

Elliot lets out a ragged breath, on the verge of tears. She reaches for Kingston’s hand before searching my eyes. “If it’s a sex trafficking scenario, how—?” She blinks, her face coloring as she glances at Lennon. “I’m so sorry, I know this is probably difficult.”

Lennon bites down on her lip before murmuring, “It’s okay. We knew there would be questions. I hate that I don’t have all the answers.”

I exhale hard, running my hand through my hair. “The only thing I can think of is that they probably realized Juliette was just way too high profile to mess with.”

Bear rubs a hand over his jaw, eyeing me over Lennon’s head. “That theory makes sense to me. Family with big money that can put pressure on law enforcement to look into a disappearance. Maybe they didn’t realize who they’d gotten hold of until she was there. The diner is where she got the offer to come to the club. They drugged them, sampled the goods, but then upon looking at their IDs, realized Juliette’s from money, and they can’t sell her off. Not unless they want to attract attention. And they can’t keep one girl without the other, in case she talked, so they dumped them both.”

Lennon shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. A low, moan whispers from between her lips. I pull her to me and let her burrow into my chest. Her breath hitches. “I-I think this is why Hunter was nosing around the diner. He was probably trying to see if we remembered anything. Juliette was scared of him, but she never said why, if she knew.” A sob rips from her throat. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Bear puts a strong hand on her thigh. Squeezes. “It’s okay, baby. You’re okay.”

While he’s doing that, Elliot hops up and leaves the room, clearly affected by Lennon’s upset. She comes back a minute later and squats down in front of Lennon and offers her a bottle of water. “I’m sorry you went through this. It’s awful.” Elliot’s lip trembles, but she doesn’t say anything more as she gets up and returns to her seat on Cannon’s lap.

Lennon heaves out a breath and sits up a bit, tears in her eyes. “Thank you. Kingston, I understand how hard this must be for you to hear. We were so fucking scared. And then she died and—” Her face crumples again.

Kingston’s face falls as he observes Lennon’s breakdown, and he shoots off his chair, eliciting a startled gasp from Elliot. He paces back and forth, jaw clenched as angry hands grip the nape of his neck. She goes to him, tugging him aside and speaking in quiet tones the rest of us can’t hear.

Archer raises his brow, staring pointedly at me, “So do we assume this is why Juliette killed herself? Not necessarily because of anything K did or didn’t do? For years, you’ve blamed him for not taking care of her.”

I blow out an aggravated sigh. “What the fuck was I supposed to think? We didn’t know.”

Kingston comes back, his gaze fiery as it sweeps everyone in the room before landing on me. “Let’s get this straight right now. I will always blame myself for not knowing what was happening with her. I’m sure, deep inside, you’ve been doing the same.”

“Maybe it’s time we stop blaming each other and look for the truth,” I murmur quietly.

Kingston swallows, then nods. “I need to know who thought they had the right to touch her. I need to know who is responsible—”

I stand up, facing him, and let my eyes bore into his. “If you want in, we’re going to take them down. Friday night. And we have a hell of a lot to figure out before then.”

“How are you going to do it?” Kingston’s green-eyed gaze probes mine, like he’s picking around in my head.

Mason shrugs. “We’re not completely certain. But I think if we get the evidence into the right hands, then maybe we can figure something out. The question is simply how we get them to confess.”

Archer holds up a hand, shifting on the arm of the chair. “Sounds like maybe this is something that should be monitored. Recorded.”

Bear nods. “For sure.”

“If you can get me into that club, I’ll install state-of-the-art cameras that’ll catch everything—both video and audio.” Archer aims a good-natured smirk at me. It’s more than clear that this shit is right up his alley.

“You’re sure?” I arch a brow.

Kingston nods. “Archer’s on it, so it’s as good as done. What do you say we figure the rest of this shit out over a few drinks. I have some honey whiskey you might like.”