I was wrong. The savage slap across my face was far worse. Pain tore through the side of my head, my ears ringing. I fought tears and failed, two trickling past my lashes. My mother had never hit me, not even to discipline me as a child.
With my hand pressed against my burning cheek, I finally stared at her, furious and confused by the hatred I suddenly felt for her. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because it’s what Walter wants to occur and I owe him. You owe him. Fortunately, I’ve managed to convince him to allow you to finish college. However, you’ll be married and living with your husband. After you graduate, you’ll begin a family.”
The disbelief was shaded by my anger. “Who is this man?”
“A son of a very important client of your father’s.”
Translation. One of the Brotherhood boys, the twisted anarchists who ruled the city along with their powerful fathers. Hell, they ruled the state and beyond. Their power and greed knew no bounds. Neither did their sick proclivities. I’d learned enough about them that the thought of being married to one brought utter terror.
“Don’t ever call him my father again!”
“You bitch.”
Memories flooded the back of my mind, images of the life I’d had as a child. Loving, happy memories even in poverty.
When she acted as if she was going to slap me a second time, I backed away. “I’m not doing this.”
“You will. It’s been decided. You will not disobey me.” The ‘or else’ was implied.
My entire world just came crashing down. All the laughter and times together, Christmases and birthdays we shared. Even without money, we’d made them special. Now, this.
“I won’t do it.”
“Oh, yes, you will.” The strange look in her eyes frightened me. There was nothing left of the woman I’d known my whole life. “We’ll talk more in the next couple days, but you will comply.”
My mother was threatening me. Numbness settled in from the shock and horror.
I spun on my heel, furious with her for allowing herself to be used. I was finished with playing the games. No one was going to manipulate me. That wasn’t my personality.
That came from my father.
The moment I tried to flee, I knew what I’d find. My stepbrother was standing just inside the doorway, blocking my exit. He wore a creepy smile, more like a leer and as soon as we’d made eye contact, he swept his gaze with deliberate movements down to my thick boots. The corners of his mouth upturned as if he was keeping a dark and dirty secret.
Since the day I’d met him, he’d tried his best to intimidate me. Every single time he’d failed. That’s why he and his buddies had stalked me, enjoying the chase. Or what they called the hunt. While he wasn’t bad looking, his arrogance created demons swirling around him, eager to feast on his soul when the time was right. The imagery had developed the very first time I’d met him.
Now it did even more as he stood in bare feet wearing jeans and an open shirt, with mussed-up hair as if he’d just been fucking one of his Barbie doll girlfriend wannabes. The man made my stomach turn. The glint of the gold he always wore around his neck shimmered under the LED lighting. It was a damn symbol of the gang he ran with.
All the wealthy sons of powerful men, their acts of entitlement symbolized by matching necklaces. He and his friends all but ruled the campus. I could only imagine what they’d be like as fully functioning adults. Their twisted criminal acts of sex and sin were emboldened by fear. And the fact that their fathers had a wide-reaching influence. From what I could see, the sons were worse than their fathers. But I wanted nothing to do with their games.
I wasn’t certain of his intentions, but I wasn’t in the mood for bullshit, so I rushed past him without saying a word.
“Aren’t you concerned about your mother’s welfare?” His chiding voice did so get on my nerves.
“Are you threatening my mother?” A low blow even for him.
“Of course not. Why should I find the need?” He was even creepier than usual. “She’s very compliant. Which is what you’ll learn to be. After you’re broken in.”
Oh, my God. Huffing, I continued my path. The less interaction we had the better.
“We need to talk, sissy of mine.”
“For the love of God, I’m not your sister, Zane, and we have nothing to talk about. You have your world and I have mine. We’re not going to be one big happy family.”
“Oh, but you are, sister, at least in spirit, and yes, we do.”
God, his voice grated on my nerves.
