She wasn’t making him hear her, she was just making noise, and it was pathetic.
“Oh, you’re a big girl now.” He raked his eyes over her, his mocking smile growing a vicious edge. “Don’t forget who made you, Isobel. And you.” He turned his stare on Mikel, seeming to grow bigger, his shoulders wider, his expression tight. “I don’t know what the little twit promised you, but she has a contract with Cesar Cooper. She already has a manager, a publicist, and an Alpha to make all her decisions for her, so you and your boys can get back in line and wait to be called on.”
“I don’t think so,” Mikel said mildly. “But thanks for the … enlightening chat. I think we’ll be on our way, now.”
“I’m not done with her,” Braun spat.
Isobel’s head was pounding. Her father had been pushing his emotions onto her as he usually did whenever she was in his presence, but with every passing minute, the spitting mass of his fury was increasing in size, growing heavy against her chest like a huge boulder weighing against her bones and threatening to cave them in.
“I still have to pick her classes for next year—”
“I’ll pick my own—” she tried to interrupt, but he continued speaking like she wasn’t even there.
“And go through her timetable for the summer break.”
Mikel pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. “You likely have until the end of the day to submit your proposed timetable and bond care plan to her bond specialist. I will be submitting several alternative solutions within the hour, and just in case you’ve forgotten: the officials don’t like to sit on welfare decisions for very long. They’re a waste of time. My plan will be comprehensive.” He moved for the door and Isobel turned to follow him, but her father’s words stopped her in her tracks.
“You always were a selfish, manipulative little bitch.”
She flinched, and the weight of fury against her chest swelled until it was too much. She caught a whimper at the back of her throat, focusing on the door Mikel was holding open, resisting the tears that wanted to break free and funnelling all her energy into taking just a few more steps. She just needed to get out of that room …
But her father wasn’t that kind.
“Just like your mother.”
Mikel caught her eye, perhaps seeing the battle in her expression because he closed his eyes for a second before gritting out a quick warning.
“I can’t get away with murder today, Carter. Best to ignore him.”
“You get away with murder weekly,” her father snarled.
Mikel only raised a brow in polite question. “Oh?”
Isobel turned her head slightly, just enough to take in how her father’s face was growing purplish red. He needed to calm down or else she was going to collapse under the pure weight of his outburst.
“You think I don’t know why she brought you here?” Braun laughed. “You think I don’t know the Track Team approached her? You think I haven’t seen you down there, week after week, putting their own enemies into comas?” He snorted. “Icons aren’t just pretty faces, Easton. We’re predators with survival instincts and if I can beat out hundreds of vicious Icons-in-training without so much as a scratch, then I sure as fuck can outsmart a washed-up Alpha who wasn’t even selected.”
Mikel smiled then, the gesture pushing and tugging at the scars marring his face. “Are you trying to goad me into a fight, Braun?”
Isobel felt her own lips tugging up on one side, a tiny spark of pleasure shooting through her. It was stupid that it mattered to her at all, but at Ironside, she had become Carter, referred to by her last name just like everyone else, but when she was with her father, he was the one given the respect of formality, and she just became Isobel. Usually, it was normal to give the oldest person in the room the respect of formality, which was why the show referred to Theodore as Kane—even though he was only older by a few minutes—while Moses was always Moses. Mikel’s subtle rearrangement of respect was doing weird things to her insides.
The feeling was quickly drowned out as her father took another step toward her. Mikel immediately moved away from the door, and Isobel forced her legs to work again before a fight could break out. Mikel caught her elbow, steering her toward the door and depositing her through it.
Before closing it in her face.
“Uh.” She stared at the closed door and then jerked back a surprised step when what sounded like a massive body was thrown up against it.
Mikel’s Alpha voice growled clearly through the wood, making her shrink a step back. “If you want to fight me so bad, then submit an application and pay me what I’m due, just like everyone else.”
“Get the fuck off me. The hell is wrong with you, psycho?” her father barked back, also in Alpha voice.
Isobel was trembling, even though none of the orders were for her.
“I don’t think I will.” Mikel sounded like he was smiling again. “Well now, isn’t that something? Mr Big Bad Icon can’t even influence a washed-up Alpha. Boohoo. You had no chance, boy. Better behave yourself from now on.”
A form materialised beside her, so suddenly that she jumped back another step. It was a man who seemed vaguely familiar, but it wasn’t until he sucked the air in through his teeth in an aggravated gesture that she realised who he was, because that sound pierced a memory deep within her. She tried to grip it, but it filtered away, leaving behind a name.
“G-Grandpa?” she whispered.
“Not anymore,” he grunted, dismissing her as he tried to open the door. His hand passed straight through it, and his face began turning red. “The heck is going on here? I can hear that useless good-for-nothing son of mine. He hiding from me, is he?”
Buddy Carter whirled on her and then looked around like there might be a tool he could use instead of attempting to try the handle again. “Annoying piece of shit,” he muttered.
Isobel had only met him twice that she could remember, but he seemed … achingly familiar. Her first memory was of his broad, plum-coloured, rage-filled face as they spilled from his house and into the car, leaving in a rush. She had no idea how old she was. She only remembered her mother crying in the front seat, her father’s rigid tension, and the feeling of wrongness that pervaded everything. The second memory, he had been sickly sweet. Laughing jovially and tossing a present into her lap. Braun had given him some money. She remembered now.
He was happy when Braun gave him money, and the calls stopped when the money did.
The weight was tossed off the door, and it swung open, giving Isobel a clear view of her father crashing over the sofa and into the coffee table, which thankfully wasn’t glass. Still, the splintering of wood gave her pause, but Mikel snapped the door closed before she could hesitate.
“Let’s go,” he said, far too casually for someone who had just called her father boy and tossed him across the room. “I think it’s going to storm, and you need to get to your session with Kalen.”
“Storm because of yo—”
He quickly spoke over her. “Yes.”
“Why?” She nervously watched as her grandfather looked between them and the closed door, before deciding to follow her. “He can’t see me, can he?” Buddy eyed Mikel curiously. “So you can see ghosts, eh, girl?”