The person I see in front of me is almost unrecognizable. A map of violet bruises spread over her cheeks, and one of her eyes is blue, swollen, and slightly open. Blood mars her once translucent skin and leaves a dry trail beneath her nose and mouth.
It’s like someone used her as a punching bag.
Someone who’ll wish for death when I get my fucking hands on them.
This is the part where I realize I actually had no clue what anger is all about. Those bursts of anger I felt before? Those could be called strong irritations or waves of mild anger at best.
But they don’t compare to this all-encompassing rage flowing in my veins instead of blood.
Splashes of red cover my vision until it’s difficult to see Glyndon through them, but I still grab her face and cradle it on my lap. She’s so small and weak in my arms. I always thought she was easily breakable, but that didn’t matter once I decided she was under my protection.
I just never thought someone would have the fucking audacity to touch her.
My hands are steady as I inspect her body for other injuries. My professors always expressed awe at my ability to remain collected under stress. The way I have a muted response to threats and disasters—a fact that enables me to find a solution faster than my colleagues.
That muted response is faltering right now, but I grab on to it with all my might. That’s the only way to assess Glyndon’s condition.
The good news is, she’s breathing.
The bad news is, she’s doing it with effort.
“Who the fuck did this to you?” I don’t recognize the masked rage in my deadly calm tone.
Or the need to break all hell loose.
As if realizing I’m here, Glyndon blinks, and a lone tear slides down her cheek as a pained moan slips from between her lips.
I reach out a finger and wipe that tear, but she’s out again.
“Fuck, baby. Open your eyes. Tell me who did this.”
No reply.
I hold her hands in mine and they’re bloody, a few nails broken.
She fought, my Glyndon. She didn’t let the scum brutalize her without hurting them in return.
Obviously, she lost, but still, I’m so fucking proud of her.
When I start to lift her up, something slips from between her stomach and leg. It was hidden by her curled-up position earlier.
A mask.
My fingers slide against the latex material and over the grotesque details of the horror skull mask with a toothy grin.
Fucking Serpents.
Logically, I know this is a provocation for war, which I promised Jeremy I wouldn’t instigate.
But that was before they touched what’s mine.
They’re asking for war, but they’ll get fucking annihilation.
* * *
After assessingGlyndon’s condition personally, I don’t find anything awry aside from the external injuries. I still take her to the hospital for a checkup and sure as fuck use all the tricks to have her seen first.
One of my professors confirms it’s only external, after all, prescribes her pain medications and says he’ll have to report it to the police. I let Jeremy deal with him and take her back to the mansion.
My body has been stiff, ready to snap in two, and I’ve been absolutely unapproachable ever since I found her.
No, make that ever since she received that video and bolted on me.
There’s nothing I want to do more than stay by her side and wait for her to wake up, but I have some lives to fuck up first.
So I call Brandon to come and stay with her. The only reason I trust him is because he’s her blood and obviously cares about her well-being.
Not her other brother, because fuck that guy.
But they show up together at my bedroom, and that fucker Gareth lets them in.
“What?” He feigns innocence when I glare at him. “They’re her brothers. I couldn’t let one in and kick the other one out.”
“Glyn!” Brandon runs to her side, a look of shock written on his face as he crouches by her bed, then looks at me. “Is she…”
“She’ll live. Can’t say the same about the one who did that to her.” I glare at Landon, who strides inside with the nonchalance of someone who owns the place, then his eyes narrow when he sees his sister’s state. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m here for my sister, and if you’d attempted to keep me out, I would’ve burned this whole fucking place down—after I got her out, of course. I also received a text.” He fetches his phone and shows me a text from an unknown number.
We spit on your grave.
Attached is a picture of Glyndon, all battered, with a skull mask lying beside her.
These motherfuckers clearly want to die young.
“I want in on whatever you’re planning,” Landon informs me.
“And what makes you think I’ll let you?”
He steps in front of me so that we’re staring at each other. “I wasn’t asking, Carson. I’ll be in whether you like it or not. I could’ve done this on my own, gotten my club involved and wiped those scum off the face of the earth, but you have more information about the Serpents than I do, and this operation isn’t about some trivial grudge, so it needs to be thorough. No one fucks with my sister, not even you, hear me?”
“Is that your way of asking for assistance?”
“As I said, I wasn’t asking. I will be in, even if I have to hijack your operation.”
“I don’t react well to threats.”
“And I don’t react well to being kept out.”
We glare at each other for what seems like an eternity before Brandon interrupts, “Can’t this be dealt with in a different way?”
“You mean instead of decapitating them, we cut them into pieces?” I say.
He winces. “No, I meant calling the police like actual civilized people?”
“Fuck the cops.”
“This is personal,” Landon says.
“Not sure if I should be glad or creeped out that you two are finishing each other’s sentences.” Brandon’s face is full of horror. “How about you negotiate with the Serpents to hand over whoever did this to Glyn so that you can both avoid war? It’s obviously one man’s work.”
“Nah, I want all their heads,” Landon says.
“I agree with the motherfucker.” I point a thumb in his direction. “Keep an eye on her and let me know if anything happens. There’s someone I need to take care of first.”
I step out of the room and grab Gareth by the collar. “You follow me.”
Landon falls in step beside us, hands in pockets and expression blank.
I side-eye him. “Do you need something?”
“It’s hard to do, but pretend I’m not here.”
I ignore him because I have more important things to take care of.
My steps are light, almost inaudible, as we walk all the way to the annexed house. The one new members can stay in. They’re only allowed in the main house during a party or if we invite them over.
A petite figure dressed in black pants and a hoodie is sneaking toward the back entrance.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be locked up?” I ask Gareth.
“She was, ever since we flew here, but she obviously used some trick to persuade the guards to let her go.”
I quicken my pace, grab her by the hoodie, and pull her back with enough force to make her shriek. Her bleached blonde hair falls out in disarray as I stand behind her like the Grim Reaper.
My fingers tighten and I strangle her with the hoodie until her face goes red. “Going somewhere without saying goodbye, Cherry? I’m so wounded, I’ll probably cry on my pillow later.”
I loosen my hold but don’t release her, and she coughs as she faces me, then breathes out, “Killer.”
“Your killer for sure. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your stupid little games?”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what he’s talking about,” Gareth snarls. “You used me to get to the club and get access to internal communication panels.”
“Then you stole security footage and leaked it outside. Oh, and you invited Glyndon to the initiation through the internal panel with Gareth’s access.”
A fact that he admitted to me after I brought a battered Glyndon with me to the house. Apparently, he’d wanted to tell me this on the plane since he had his suspicions about who might have access to internal security records.
Jeremy and Nikolai’s guards are more loyal than dogs since they were with their fathers for years. Those two are out.
So the most probable people are those from the club.
And the one Gareth has been getting in bed with is none other than the manipulative, on-crack Cherry.
We were able to fill in the blanks after that.
Cherry starts crying, her chin trembling and her eyes red. If I could give a fuck, it’d almost feel real.
Almost.
“I didn’t want to,” she sobs. “He…he made me do it. He knows about my drug addiction and if I didn’t cooperate, he was going to tell Dad, who would lock me up in some rehab facility. I swear I didn’t know he’d hurt Glyndon like that. I swear.”
I yawn. “Tell that to someone who cares.”
“Gareth.” She grabs his arm with desperation bleeding in her voice, knowing full well he’s the only one who’ll be able to get her out of this. It surely isn’t me. “I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t had to. You have to believe me.”
He removes her hand and slings it away. “You used me once. Never again.”
“Gareth, please. I love you.”
“No, you don’t,” Gareth says with a half-smile. “I was just a substitute for Kill. You don’t even love him. You love the idea of him and the feelings of grandiosity it gives you.”
“That’s not true, I swear—”