My lungs stop functioning, my brain misfiring. If the sadistic fuck is still speaking, I can’t hear them. Reaching my hands up, I claw at the collar of my shirt. Praying it will allow me the precious air I need, but my throat constricts, pulling so tight I feel my vision ebbing. Someone’s calling me. I can hear the muffled sound, just not the words they’re saying. I feel my body being lowered, and I focus on that. I know this starts with seeing, but my vision is too far gone. I feel the hand again. It’s rubbing my back.
Come on, Ry.
I feel the breath blow against my ear and the vibrations of someone talking. I can almost make out what’s being said. I know it’s Shay.
“That’s it, Ry, come on,” Shay encourages, and I inhale a sliver of a breath. She continues to coach me, “Listen to the sound of my voice.” Her voice is sharper in my ears, the thumping of my heartbeat dulling. “Now, breathe for me,” she coaxes again.
Sucking in a deeper breath, my lungs still not completely expanding, but the vice-like grip on my trachea loosens.
Gasping, I say, “Th-thank you.”
I start to turn my head when I feel a shadow looming over my desk. I look up and grimace.
Why me?
I have zero patience for her bullshit as I try to clear the blurriness from my vision.
Sighing, finally able to take a complete breath, I ask, “How can I help you, Samantha?”
Towering over me in a pair of red Ferragamo heels, matching her matte red lipstick, a smarmy grin painting her face, Samantha mocks, “You know this is all your fault. Your siblings are going to end up like your mom and dad.”
My lip curls, slanting up, nearly touching my nose, disgust and rage filling me, and I see black.
Springing from my seat, I seethe, “What the fuck did you just say to me, you overused, washed up cunt?”
I don’t wait for her response. I yank her fishtail braid and wail on her face. No consideration for propriety, or care for the rules in the goddamn contract. Each time my fist connects with a body part, something in me calls for more. More of her pain, more of her cries, and more of her blood. She went too fucking far this time. I land hits to her cheek, blows to her eyes, shit, I even punch the bitch so hard I might have popped her silicone tit. I don’t stop when her friends try to intervene. I don’t stop when Mr. Jameson tries to intervene, brushing everyone off as blood and snot land on my face, and I punch the bitch for getting her vile germs on me. I don’t stop until I have nothing left, not until my arms give out and my tears start.
Shay helps me off the ground and kicks Sam in the side. I arch my eyebrow in amusement and she shrugs. “Fuck that ho. She had that coming. She’s lucky it was a fair one,” she states.
Once I’m up, I bark, “If you think to try me again, you might not make out so easily,” and storm out of the room, pushing anyone in my path out of the way.
45
WYATT
“Fucking hell!” I snarl, throwing another phone at the wall. We miss school for one day, and Samantha rears her ugly fucking mug. I can’t believe that bitch would talk about her family like that. Who am I kidding? Of course, I can believe it.
“Broke another one, I see,” Lev snarks from the hall as he steps inside.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
I’m so annoyed that we have to be here in the first place. I should be with Riri keeping her safe. Although, the messages I received of Sam being laid out on the ground are priceless. I know she can take care of herself. I just want to do it for her. I want to bathe in the blood of her enemies. She’s had to be so strong for so long. I know how exhausting that can be. To constantly be on guard, always wondering who’s out to end your existence. Not to mention her single-handedly parenting her younger siblings.
“Temper, temper Wy,” Lev teases, and I throw the marble skull paperweight at his face.
His reflexes have him lifting his hands and catching the damn thing.The stupid fucker and his stupid quick reflexes.I wanted it to knock some sense into him. He’s still being an asshole about Ariah. Even Wes has started to soften, though he doesn’t see it happening. He is far less aggressive when she’s around, and I can’t remember the last time he called her a ‘trash slut.’
“Asshole,” I shout before asking, “what time do you think they’ll be ready for us? We’ve been sitting out here all day.”
It’s Wes who chimes in, “It should be any minute now.”
As if on cue, the door to the council room opens, and the guard tells us they’re ready for us.
Wes and Lev stand from their seats, and Owen and Sebastian make their way from the bar. All our faces are stoic—devoid of any emotion. The sound of our shoes echoes down the long stone hallway. This room used to terrify me as a kid. I thought monsters were going to eat me. Now, we’re the monsters.
“Boys. Nice of you to join us. Please have a seat. There’s much to discuss,” Mr. Edgewood commands. He sits behind the ornate cherry wood table, along with the council, like a king amongst peasants. “Before we get down to selection business, I want an update on where we are with the Senator and this Filiae Bellonae.”
“We’ve discovered that the person the Senator has been meeting with is a woman. We’re working on identifying her now,” Wes starts.
