I run my fingers over the splintered remains of my favorite armchair, the one where Emily and I used to curl up with a bottle of wine and talk shit about our exes. I trace the jagged edges of a shattered picture frame, the smiling faces of my family now distorted and fragmented, like a twisted funhouse mirror.
The weight of what I'm leaving behind hits me like a punch to the gut. This place has been my anchor, my port in the storm of my crazy, fucked-up life. It's where I've laughed, cried, screamed, found love, and forged unbreakable bonds.
But I know, in the end, that home isn't a place. It's not four walls or a collection of possessions. Home is the people you love, the ones who stand by your side through thick and thin, who fight and bleed and die for you without a second thought.
Lucian rubs his hands together, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I call shotgun!"
Rhyland
75
As we pull up tothe gated mansion in our Ubers, I can't help but let out a low whistle. This place is fucking massive, like something straight out of a goddamn movie.
The wrought-iron gates slowly swing open, revealing a long, winding driveway lined with perfectly manicured hedges and towering oak trees. The gravel crunches beneath the tires as we approach the house.
And then, there it is. The mansion itself, rising from the shores of Lake Washington like a fucking castle. It's all sleek lines and modern angles, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows reflecting the lake's shimmering waters. The exterior is a mix of dark wood and stone, giving it a rustic elegance that's both impressive and intimidating.
As we get closer, I can see the sprawling lawns surrounding the property, dotted with colorful flower beds and perfectly trimmed topiaries. There's a huge deck that wraps around the entire back of the house, complete with a built-in hot tub and an outdoor kitchen. The place reeks of luxury.
And then there's the view. Holy shit, the view. The mansion is perched right on the lake's edge, with a panoramic vista of the water and the mountains beyond. It's the kind of view that people would kill for, the kind that makes you feel like you're on top of the goddamn world.
I glance over at Dani, who's staring up at the mansion with wide eyes and an expression of awe. "Holy fuck," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper. "Never would've thought Lucian to have a place like this."
The Uber stops at the base of the stairs, and I step out, my eyes still drinking in the grandeur. Lucian sidles up beside me, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Not too shabby, eh?" he quips, elbowing me in the ribs. "I told you I had a secret hideout. Bet you're glad you didn't kill me all those times you threatened to, huh?"
I roll my eyes. "Don't tempt me, asshole," I growl, but there's no real heat behind my words. "I might just change my mind if you keep running your mouth."
Lucian laughs, slinging an arm around my shoulders as he leads us up the stairs. "Please," he scoffs. "You'd be lost without me, and you know it. Who else would keep you on your toes and make sure you don't take yourself too fucking seriously?"
I scoff but can't help but be a little impressed. I mean, don't get me wrong, Lucian's still a pain in my ass. But even I have to admit, the guy's got style.
As we make our way up the front steps, I feel the tension draining from my body. It's been a long fucking day, hell, a long fucking month, and the thought of crashing in a place like this is almost too good to be true.
As Lucian swings open the massive front doors, my jaw drops. "Holy fucking shit," I mutter, taking in the sight before us.
The interior is a goddamn work of art. Sleek, modern lines are everywhere, and the place has an open floor plan that makes it feel even bigger than it looked outside. The floors are polished concrete, gleaming under the soft light of designer fixtures hanging from the high ceilings. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate one wall, offering a breathtaking view of Lake Washington and the twinkling lights of Seattle in the distance.
"Welcome to Casa de Lucian," our host announces with a flourish, grinning like an idiot. "Make yourselves at home, mi casa es su casa, and all that jazz."
Dani lets out a low whistle, her eyes wide as she takes in the surroundings. "Damn, Lucian. I didn't know being a pain in the ass paid so well. Maybe I should consider a career change."
I can't help but chuckle at that, even as I roll my eyes. "Don't even think about it, Angel," I growl playfully, pulling her close. "One Lucian in the family is more than enough."
Erik merely raises an eyebrow. "It's... adequate," his tone dry as the Sahara. But I can see the hint of approval in his eyes as he scans the room, no doubt already cataloging potential security risks and escape routes.
On the other hand, Seraphina looks like she's about to swoon. "Oh, Sparky," she breathes, her eyes glittering as she gazes at him adoringly. "It's absolutely perfect. Just like you."
I barely suppress my laugh at the nickname Seraphina has given Lucian.
Lucian is preening under her attention. "Only the best for you, Cupcake," he purrs, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her cheek.
"Alright, alright," I cut in before I have to witness any more of their lovey-dovey bullshit. "Can we get the grand tour already? I need a shower."
Lucian's grin widens if that's even possible. "Right this way, ladies and gentlemen," gesturing towards a sleek staircase that looks floating in midair. "Let me show you to your suites. And trust me, they're fucking spectacular."
We follow him up the stairs. The second floor is just as impressive as the first, with a long hallway lined with doors. The walls are adorned with modern art pieces that probably cost more than most people's cars, and the plush carpet feels like fucking clouds beneath our feet.
