The fucking woman doesn’t seem to remember I never put my dick in her without a condom. I only ever fucked her ass since she’s been home, and I haven’t touched her since before the Selection two months ago.
Clapping my hands, I walk into the room. “Bravo. I guess this is your encore. I’d say, what the fuck, but nothing you two do surprises me.”
Vivian springs off my father’s naked prone form grabbing at the sheets, grasping for some sense of modesty— a trait she’s never possessed, apparently.
“Oh no. Please continue— don’t stop on my accord. I’m only here to tell you that if you threaten another Selection girl again, Vivian, it won’t be me visiting you. It will be Owen, and we know how much he’s been dying to slice you— I mean, spend some time with you,” I gleam.
Vivian jumps off the bed, nearly tripping over the clothes sprawled across the living room floor. “Bash, please. I was doing it for us. If I were pregnant, you wouldn’t have to go through with the Selection.”
Is she serious?
“Stop,” I shout, shocking her still. “Do you even hear yourself? Don’t you think if I wanted to be out of this, I wouldn’t have volunteered or, I don’t know— maybe even gotten you pregnant myself?” I turn, storming back toward the entrance of the guest house, done with all this bullshit. My father is smart enough to remain silent— our relationship died that day, and the treacherous jealous bastard knows not to speak to me unless it’s required.
Vivian grabs my arm, her nails trying to gain purchase, but I yank myself from her hold, rounding on her until she steps back. “I suggest you give Ariah Bishop and me a wide berth— at this point, your fucking life depends on it. Consider this my last kind act toward you, Vivian,” I growl, then turn and stalk out of the guest house, choosing to walk around the main house to the car. I don’t need to see the Taylors again.
As I drop to my seat, I wonder if Vivian’s mother knew my father was here. I immediately dismiss that thought— Joanna Taylor would castrate my father where he stood if she knew he was here, consequences be damned. The positive of this situation is I can finally put Vivian Taylor in my rearview because fuck her and the sperm donor. I would hope he knocked her up, but no kid deserves either of them as parents.
Driving out of the estate, I head for the Tombs. We need to add my father to the list of potential turncoats. There’s no reason he should be helping Vivian, not if he’s with the Fraternitas.
With my mind made up, I turn on my satellite radio and let the sounds of Fallout Boy’sLight Em Upbeat through my speakers, enjoying the freedom I’ve just been given.
My mother and two younger brothers might be hurt by his demise, but they’ve all suffered far greater with him breathing— sometimes, things must die for new things to be born.
46
OWEN
Ican’t believe it’s already December. After that holiday break, we played in the championship game and lost. Lev was bummed, but a weekend with Ariah would make anyone feel like a champion.
Grabbing my books from the passenger seat, I exit my Jeep and head for the building. I’m late, so everyone’s already inside. I was following a few leads Lev had on Madeline last night and overslept.
I grit my teeth. We haven’t gotten any viable leads on her or Elise. It’s been quiet— too fucking quiet. Maybe I should be happy that no more girls have gone missing and there haven’t been any more anonymous packages delivered to Ariah, but it’d be foolhardy for us to believe this is done and over with.
Sighing, I scan my thumbprint and enter the building. I’m annoyed with this day, and it’s only just begun. Usually, I’d say Fridays are great days. However, I have another damn date tonight. The idea of sitting across from another Samantha crony is nauseating at best.
I make it halfway down the hall when I hear hushed whispers.
“I’m not going to continue to put up with this. I’m in charge, and your attitude hasn’t gone unnoticed. Get your act together, Miss Davenport. I don’t want to have this conversation again.”
Is that Vivian?
Sam comes storming around the corner. She’s not paying attention, too busy mumbling about stupid fucking people always trying to tell her what to do, that she doesn’t see me, and I have to step out of her way so she doesn’t crash into me.
I don’t move fast enough because she clips my shoulder.
“Hey, watch where you’re fucking— oh, Owen, it’s you,” Samantha’s snarly tone quickly smooths to coquettish. “I didn’t see you there.” She tries to raise her hand to touch my arm, but I fix my glare at the offending limb, and she wisely continues lifting it to brush her hair behind her ear.
I don’t respond, continuing to walk past her to AP Calculus.
“Why are you so late this morning? Class is nearly over,” Ariah asks, leaning in once I take my seat. The fruity scent of her lip gloss wafts in the air.
I angle my neck to take her in as she shifts back into her seat. Her hair is in a messy bun, and today’s t-shirt is Bob Marley.We really need to exchange playlists.“I woke up late,” I reply as the bell rings, ending class.
Ariah stands, Shay and the guys following suit, then we all make our way for the door. “Hopefully, it wasn’t anything too bad that kept you up,” she states, and I detect an undercurrent of worry.
We’ve talked about the day in my room, what she did for me, and some of the reasons why I needed it. She doesn’t know all the details, but she knows just enough for her to understand my need for pain, mainly inflicted by a knife. I stare at her as we walk down the hall. I love how there’s no judgment in her eyes, only worry.
“No, Angel. It turned out to be nothing,” I respond, keeping my answers in the gray area of truth. I don’t want to lie to Ariah, but we all agreed to keep her out of this as much as possible— that means skirting the truth. She’s definitely going to kick our asses when she finds out.
