"The plot thickens, brother. I knew there was something that didn't add up here. My violent little psycho has secrets as deep as the Mariana Trench, and by the looks of it, just as deadly."
"You think she knew Rawdon before coming here?" I question, going back to the post and enlarging it, to see if I missed anything important. There's no way Livy would be in it. She would have been in her mid-teens when Rawdon was in school here. I try to replay all the interactions I've witnessed between the two of them quickly in my mind. He came to her defense in class, but I didn't get the impression he knew her. Didn't Damon say something about Rawdon confronting him, to allow Livy to escape when he was trying to hurt her? This is all so bizarre. I feel myself growing excited at the suspense. I love a good mystery.
"I'm sure of it. I think that's why she chose to move into the mansion with her mom, and agreed to my father's domineering terms. Going to school here was part of whatever plan she's working on. She's actively attempting to destroy Jacob Rawdon, and if I know Olivia like I think I do, he's done something to deserve it. The question is what, and how far is she willing to go?"
Before I can reply, we observe as a furious Professor Rawdon races across the quad, heading toward the dean's building, his face flushed and hair disheveled. Cross is up and charging at him, before I can even get on my feet. "Your daddy's not gonna be able to use his money, or political power, to sweep this under the rug this time, Rawdon!" Cross shoves him hard, and Rawdon stumbles, a mask of murderous rage across his face.
"Was this you, Weyburn?! Did you post this shit all over campus, huh?!" Rawdon gets right up in Cross's face, and that's a huge mistake. I can tell from where I'm standing, not even two feet away, that Cross is ready to blow. Once he starts swinging, there won't be any stopping him. I hesitate for a moment to getbetween them. The truth is, I would love Cross to end Rawdon. The guy's a piece of shit, and if that photo is real, it's just one more fucked up, abusive situation we tack on to the guy, to add to the mountain we already know about.
"What does Olivia have on you? What did you do to her?" Cross demands.
"Olivia? Oliviawho? I have no idea what the fuck you're on about, Weyburn!" Rawdon looks momentarily confused.
"Olivia Springhill, my stepsister! What the fuck did you do to her, for her to come after you?" Cross strikes forward, hitting Rawdon's face with an upper cut that causes it to swing backward. Before he can hit him again, I push my way between them, my glare on all the bystanders now filming on their phones.
"Too many eyes, Cross!" I grit through clenched teeth, as I have to work to hold him back.
"I don't give a shit. He deserves so much worse. You hear me, Rawdon?! I'm going to make sure they bury you where no one will ever find you!" Rawdon tears himself out of my grip, his shirt ripping in the process, as he storms away from us and toward the admin building. He reaches the top of the stone stairs that lead inside the building, and with one further glare in our direction, he disappears within the stone walls.
I turn and face the small crowd that had formed to watch Cross lose his shit. "If that gets posted anywhere, you'll be getting a visit from Damon and me." They scamper off immediately, like rodents fleeing a sinking ship.Dammit, this day has been a clusterfuck.
"Where is my stepsister now?" Cross demands, his body still visibly vibrating with rage, as he flexes his hand, his knuckles split and already bleeding.
"She took off in that direction," I nod toward the science building. "What do you want to do here, Cross? Should we callDamon back from looking for Sim? We could just let whatever is happening here blow up, and watch from the sidelines." There's a gnawing feeling in my stomach now, something unsettled, and it has all to do with Livy and her motives. Why is she putting herself in danger? What could all of this mean?Fuck, Hellstorm, how many secrets are you hiding, and what's your end goal?
"No, let Damon loose on Sim, while we find her, and once we do, she's going to tell us the truth about who she is, and what her involvement with Jacob Rawdon is," he growls, and starts moving in the same direction Livy fled, his large frame radiating malice.
"What if she refuses, Cross? What are you going to do then?" I move to keep pace with him, a sliver of fear gripping me.Would he kill her?He has feelings for her, stronger than he wants to admit even to himself. I just don't think that's enough to override his need to be in complete control of her, and everything in our world. A part of me hopes we don't find her, not that I want to utter those betraying thoughts out loud to my best friend. Cross is already past the breaking point, and it's doubtful Livy will just hand over the information. No, she'll fight us tooth and nail, and with the way things are right now, I can't see Cross holding back. He's going to rip it out of her any way he can. I don't want to see my Hellstorm hurt again. It fucking gutted me to see her condition when we took her out of those woods.
"Then we'll dig two graves, River. She and Rawdon can go meet the devil together."Fuck.
CHAPTER 47
DAMON
They sent you because you're expendable,the raspy voice slides into my head like a sharp and jagged blade slipping between flesh, soft, intimate, and cruel. A dark, menacing shadow stretches along the brick path beside me, too long for the early afternoon sun rays, its edges writhing where they shouldn't, and I have to swallow the bile rising up the back of my throat. My mind feels fractured into a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts, and fears, I can't control.
Cross and River don't respect you. They're afraid of you; there's a difference. They know you're a monster, Damon.It leans closer, breath cold against my ear.You're their monster. The one they unleash when they want blood to run in the streets, but not tainting their hands, or their conscience.
I shake my head hard, sweat flinging from my hair, my scalp itching as a shadow runs its blade-like fingers through it.My hands tremble at my sides, and I force them into tight fists until my knuckles ache. The world around me feels wrong. It's too bright, loud, and sharp, as if everything is in hyperfocus and glaring.Every sound on campus grates my fried nerves. The laughter, footsteps, and even the distant slam of a door, areoverstimulating and overwhelming. Students part around me like I'm radioactive, refusing to meet my glance. They already know what I am and what I'm capable of. They've witnessed my loss of control before and the outcome of my rage.Monster,their judging eyes proclaim, and they're right, I know it deep in my tarnished and blackened soul.Was I always this way?I can’t remember a time when I was happy, even as a little kid. Every day under my father’s roof was wracked with violent, abusive misery. I am what he always wanted, a killing machine. A monster just like him.
My stomach twists violently, and pain tears through me, forcing me to clench my teeth and pant. Withdrawal claws at me savagely, my mouth dry, but tasting like ass, my jaw aching from clenching my teeth so hard I fear they'll shatter. It's been too long since my last hit, and my frazzled nerves are screaming for alcohol, for something to snort, smoke, or swallow, for anything to quiet the noise raging inside my skull.Fuck.I should've gotten high. I should've drowned this out before it started. I... I can't do this, not like this. Cross wants me sober and clear-headed. He has no fucking idea what sobriety does to me, how much pain I have to endure. How right now I would rather crawl into a hole in the dark, and rip my own flesh off, than have to deal with any of this.
Such a weak, pathetic little boy, go ahead and cry, my father’s voice taunts me in my head.
Another shadow peels itself from the edge of a building, this one shaped more like a woman, hips and breasts exaggerated, a sinister smile that's far too wide, and dark red eyes like fiery embers. She moves with a predatory grace, keeping pace beside me, and I flinch away from her touch.Your friends don't care about you, Damon,she croons, voice honeyed and thick, trying her best to tempt me.Not like we do. We'd never throw you away. We'd never send you to clean up their mess.
My chest tightens, and my pulse stutters. They sent me to find Sim, to end him. Was it just to keep me out of the way while they went after my little monster? Do they think I'm unworthy of having her like they are? She's supposed to belong to the three of us equally, but more and more, I'm starting to believe they only want me near her to hurt her, while they get to have her for their pleasure. The sense of betrayal burns hotter than the withdrawal ever could. They're supposed to be my best friends, my brothers. I've played their obedient lunatic all this time, and still I'm expendable, undeserving of her.
A flash of dread slices through me so sharp it nearly buckles my knees. My unhinged princess is out there, alone and unprotected, and when Cross and River find her, they're going to keep her for themselves. Maybe they hope that Sim Melfort will be the one to finally end me, so they don't feel responsible for doing it themselves. The shadows crowd closer, feeding on my thoughts, as too many wispy fingers touch me at once, making my skin crawl. You're disgusting, and unfit to have her anyway,the female shadow whispers.You ruin everything you touch. You're the devil, Damon. Daddy has told you the same thing all your life, hasn't he?
"Stay the fuck away from me!" I snarl, swinging my arm through the empty air, and the female shadow disperses but only for a second, before she instantly reforms, closer now, smiling wider and displaying jagged, sharp teeth.You can't get rid of us,she murmurs.We're the only ones who never leave you. Give in to us, we can make everything better, Damon.
"You really are a fucking psychopath, aren't you, Morell?" Sim's large frame comes into view, and for a second, I'm disoriented, not sure how I didn't see him approaching me. A deadly smile breaks across my face, and my shadows slither backward with annoyance. Just the man I wanted to see, and hurt. He's made it so much easier coming to me, instead ofhaving me hunt him. A pout crosses my lips at that thought. The fucker is taking some of the fun out of it, and he's going to have to pay for that.
"Where ismy girl, Morell, and for your fucking sake, she better not have a scratch on her!" The energy radiating in waves off of Sim is positively dangerous, and murderous, and that ratchets up my own. Fuck yes, I need a good fight, someone to go toe to toe with me, and not hold back. I crave blood and destruction like one does a lover, knowing it's the only way to soothe the rot that lives within me.
"Scratch on her?" I rub at my temple with my middle finger, and his eyes watch the action with a scowl. "Don't know about a scratch, but she did have my huge cock down her throat, choking her, not too long ago, and between you and me, she liked it," I snark, and watch him edge closer and closer to losing control.Come on, hit me, fucker!Just one fucking punch, and I can unleash all my pent-up rage on you.
