16
“What are you thinking?”I asked my older brother as we stepped back inside the Lud.
“I’m thinking that we could use her to our advantage,” he told me. Then his phone rang, and he showed me the screen, and it was Mom calling. I checked my phone to see if she had tried to call me, but no, the oldest son was the apple of her eye.
“Answer it, bro?” I insisted, “Or else she’ll start harassing me to harass you to call her. And that puts me in a fucking bad mood.”
“If it’s important, she’ll leave a message,” he pointed out, and I made chicken noises to provoke him. The real reason he’s notanswering the call was that our mother was a bossy, terrifying woman, who was very difficult to say no to.
My phone lit up, and I groaned as Mom’s name flashed up on the screen, so I swiped to take it: “Your oldest son is avoiding your calls. I’ll pass on your demands to him.”
“Ezrah, put him on,” she snarled, but I was disappointed that my charm didn’t work on her.
Sickle made a cutting throat action with his hand to indicate that he didn’t want to talk to her. “Sure, he’s right here,” I handed my phone to him, ignoring the unfriendly scowl.
He took a deep breath, cleared his throat before answering, “Hi,” he said politely, and I cracked up laughing as I ran up the stairs to grab a mattress from the only empty room in the house. Then found some blankets in the closet that smelled like pot, but seemed clean.
As I dragged the mattress down the stairs, Sickle had just swiped off the phone, wearing a face like thunder.
“And?” I sniggered as he handed me the phone. “What are your orders from the queen?”
“The funeral,” he snarled, looking annoyed as fuck.
“Maxwell’s funeral? Has there been an announcement?” I asked, awkwardly opening the front door and dragging the mattress out onto the balcony.
He seemed annoyed, “Not yet, but she wants me to escort the Boleyn girl to the funeral. Fuck, I told her that you and Lev were planning to take her, but she wants me to go as well.”
“Why? Doesn't she think we can handle it?” I pressed, ignoring the resentment rising in me at the difference in how the golden boy, the oldest son, was treated differently from me. I was basically the message-taking secretary, whereas Nicolae was the boss.
“Nah,” he sighed, “I think she has plans…probably the plans that I have.”
“Like,” I pointed my thumb in the direction of the basement, “as in using her as a pawn?”
“She didn’t go into details, but she visited Dad in prison, and he was very keen on exploiting this opportunity.” He followed me out onto the balcony and took out the basement key from his pocket to unlock the door.
“He’d be proud that we have her locked up in the basement, then,” I said sarcastically, thinking about the many times our father wished for the death of Maxwell Warwick, and now that it’s finally happened, it’s not quite what he imagined. “We could do whatever we want with her.”
“A rabbit in a hutch,” he said in a dark tone that concerned me a little.
“Bro, you’re not going to hurt her or anything?” I needed to ask because I’ve spent more time with her than he has, so I've seen a different side of her, and honestly, I like her a lot. I enjoyed her fiery nature, and the fact that she was our enemy’s daughter made her even more attractive. There’s nothing better than fucking your enemy who screams how much she hates you while cumming.
“Nah,” but I wasn’t convinced by his answer and suspected he had something in mind.
I laughed when he opened the basement door and immediately slammed it again to block something that was being hurled at him from within that banged against the wood.
“Spanner,” he said, wearing a look of amusement. “Maybe you should go first and use the mattress as a shield.”
“Fine, put the youngest son in the firing line,” I said sardonically as I shuffled closer to the door, held up the single bed mattress, so I was hidden behind it.
“On three,” Sickle stated, gripping the door handle. “One, two, three, and he flung the door open, and I quickly blocked the doorway with the mattress, then pushed it down the stairsas another tool was thrown at us under heated language, and luckily, Sickle slammed the door shut before it hit.
The door was quickly locked, and the key slipped into his pocket. “Bro, we can’t leave her down there for too long. There’s no ventilation. She’ll be inhaling grease fumes.”
“I’ll let her out in the morning,” he promised. “Hopefully, she’s learned her lesson by then.”
“What lesson?” I asked because it wasn’t the first time someone tried to break into the Lud, and it won’t be the last. We’ve been hit with paint bombs, fireworks, and hazing practices have taken place at our frat house, so why was Adina’s punishment worse than theirs? Yeah, I know she’s Boleyn’s daughter, but she’s hardly a threat, especially after removing her gun and knife.
“Trying to break into the house,” he snarled, making me flinch. “Thought it was obvious.”
