Exhaling slowly, I sink deeper into the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
The bed is warm, but it offers little comfort. My gaze is still fixed upward. Hayden isn't here anymore; he left me alone, somehow sensing this emptiness is exactly what I needed. But the truth is, I don't know what I need. Maybe to feel nothing. But my mind won't stop spinning.
I think of my father. My mother. My brothers.
My mother and I weren't close, but we understood each other. She lived her life under a harsh spotlight, orchestrating events and joining endless philanthropic boards at Eulogia to keep up appearances. Yet beneath that polished veneer, she was drowning. Alcohol numbed her reality, and pills were taken desperately behind closed doors. I saw it clearly, past her carefully maintained smile. Her resentment, her silent rebellion against a life she’d never chosen, it was there, always lurking beneath her elegant facade.
I remember the morning she broke. My father had left for a long trip, and she sat at the dining table, sunglasses masking a bruised face, already halfway drunk at nine in the morning. Her voice was brittle and sharp, filled with an anger I'd never seen directed at me before. She gripped my wrist tightly.
“You’re the only one who decides if you break,” she hissed. Her words were slurred but sharp as blades. “I tried, I tried to protect you. But this life will eat you alive if you let it. Hold tight to your will; it’s your only escape. They can trap you, but they can't break you unless you let them,” she drained her glass and stumbled away, leaving me alone in her wake of despair.
My father did this. He destroyed her, just as surely as if he'd pulled a trigger. It makes sense that someone would want him dead. He was cold, ruthless, cruel, and arrogant beyond reach. If anyone deserved death, it was him.
But my brothers?
My father killed my mother. I don't have proof, but I’m sure of it. Proof is for those who doubt their gut, who don't feel the sickening certainty every time their eyes shut. I grew up in a house designed to break us, to crush us beneath the weight of my father's rage. Luckily, the estate was vast enough that I could hide from his violent moods, and my mother filled the halls with extravagant social events that kept him occupied, kept us safe, at least temporarily.
My brothers were my real protectors, my anchors. But now, they're gone too.
I pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms tightly around them. It makes no sense.
Three years. My brothers gave three devoted, loyal years to the Brotherhood of Death. During their freshman year, they completed task after task to earn their invitation, and in their Sophomore year, they were initiated. Just as my father had been, as his father before him. The Huntington-Russells played a significant role in shaping this Society, influencing its power and Legacy.
And still, my brothers were discarded without a second glance, as if their dedication meant nothing. They risked their lives and sacrificed themselves in ways I can’t fully grasp. Fordham was destined for political greatness, possibly even the presidency. His life had already been plotted, promised, and prepared by our Legacy. And now he lies dead, discarded, worthless to them.
The injustice burns through me, raw and furious. My brothers had done everything right, played every twisted game by the rules our ancestors helped write. Yet here they lie, gone, dead,meaningless. The image of their lifeless bodies flashes through my mind, cruelly replacing their once vibrant, arrogant smirks.
I shudder.
Maybe I’m looking at this wrong. Perhaps it wasn’t punishment, maybe it wasn’t condemnation, maybe it was something darker, something deeper, something I can't yet grasp.
My thoughts drift to Archie, their best friend, someone I’ve known since birth. If anyone has answers, it’s him. He hinted at knowing something at the party, but I was whisked away before I could get to the bottom of it. Despite the countless creative ways he’s found to irritate me over the years, I trust him. He’s practically family, and as a Bonesman, he’s bound to know something. The question isn’t whether he knows, it’s what I'm willing to do to get the truth out of him.
My nails dig into the soft sheets, anger mingling with determination. I need answers, and Archie may be the only one left who can provide them. The thought makes my stomach twist, anxiety tangling with determination. My family’s destruction can’t go unanswered. I need to know why.
I’ll find out, even if confronting Archie means facing truths I'm not ready for.
I pull up the blankets, struggling to ease the chill that’s settled inside of me.
While I hang desperately to the idea that no one can break me, I know without a doubt that Hayden is capable of my destruction.
And even worse?
I don't care.
Chapter eleven
Martine Lilian Huntington-Russell
When I wake, the light outside is pale and muted. My head aches, and a scratch in my throat tells me I'm dehydrated.
I sit up slowly, muscles stiff, mind still fogged with exhaustion. Slowly, I realize there’s movement downstairs.
I hear the soft shuffle of footsteps, the murmur of voices, and then, a knock at my bedroom door.
“Miss Huntington-Russell?”
One of the house staff says softly, voice careful, professional. “There’s a lawyer here to see you.”
