“Let me guess,” he interjects, and I curl my hands into weak fists. My nose twitches as the smell of gasoline hits my nostrils. “You wanta couple thousand dollars to get you on your feet, and this will be the last time you ask for money. Then you’ll come crawling back in a few months because it all disappeared up your nose. Just like your mother.”
My mouth dries, lighting a fire within me. “How is she?”
Jonathan straightens. “Your Houdini of a mother escaped rehab again.”
Ah. So that’s where she was. Was the plan to send me there too? To make me a prisoner? Part of me doesn’t want to know the answer. “Why do you do it?”
“Are you incapable of asking a complete question?” he asks flatly.
“Why the fuck did you send us away to that house?” I growl, stepping forward as a wave of anger crashes through me. “If you wanted to protect your reputation, you would have sent Mom to rehab to begin with and took me in—or even sent me into the foster system.”
“So you can continue tainting my bloodline?” He scoffs, arching a patronizing brow.
“My mother—”
“Is too old to have any more children—not that she could after the complications she had because of you. I thought letting her pretend to be a mother would give her some fake sense of purpose. I suppose I was wrong.”
What kind of fucking support did he give her? Did he expect her to suffer through a pregnancy, have birthing complications, then miraculously get rid of the urge to hit up her veins?
I press my gloved thumbs into my temples in an attempt to comprehend how ridiculous his thought process is. “Let me get this straight. You made my life hell, and you plan on locking me up, allso I don’t spawn another Whitlock?” Rage crawls up my throat, shredding the skin into fiery ribbons with each word that passes my lips.
“Not just another Whitlock. Anotheryou.” The head of the Whitlock empire sneers down at me as if I just shit on his expensive fucking rug, and I’m tempted to rip it up just to wipe the look from his face. “You’re so daft, Marie. Perhaps delusional is a better word. It perfectly describes all the outbursts you’ve had since you were a child. It landed you at Seraphic Hills, after all.”
I jump forward, whipping the butt of the gun across his face. He hisses as blood gushes from his busted nose. The sight of it soothes the sadistic beast clawing at my skin. His eyes widen as spots the weapon, then they squeeze shut when I punch him in the gut.
“My name is fuckingBlaze.” Venom drips from my tongue, raw and agonizing.“You think I need fixing. You think I’m crazy. You think I’m fucked in the head. Maybeyou’rethe problem.”
Even though he’s wheezing for breath, he rolls his eyes as if I’m just being dramatic. “You were always this way.”
“Those words would mean something if you were ever around.” He flinches when I wave the gun at him. “But if you want crazy, Grandpa?” I chuckle humorlessly to myself. “I can be crazy, as long as you remember you made me this way.”
I have no intention of putting a bullet between his eyes. No. Back in the day, doctors would shove patients into near-boiling water, then straight into ice. Some believed the first would suffice.
Tonight, I’m going to drop him in his precious indoor swimming pool and pull the cover over him so he knows how I felt.
Tonight, he’ll drown in the water while the manor goes up in flames.
“Put the gun down, Marie.” His voice comes out sharp and stern as he grips the arms of his ornate wooden chair, ignoring the blood dripping from his nose.
“My name isBlaze!”
My fist descends on him again, but he doesn’t block it in time, and he continues as if didn’t almost topple over the seat from the force of the blow. “Don’t blame your lack of drive on me. I gave you every opportunity you needed to succeed, and you squandered it. Private school education. Additional tutoring. Extracurricular activities. Your failures are no fault of mine.”
Red spots dance in my vision, growing darker with each word he says. The butt of the weapon slams against his cheek, and he falls onto the floor. I kick him in the gut and relish in the sound of his groans as the sight of crimson pooling on his cheek.
The gun clatters on the table, sending paperwork flying onto the ground and freeing my hands. I yank him forward by his collar. “You made me this way. You left me, kicked me aside like I was nothing more than a problem you were trying to get rid of. I never had the chance to be anything but the way I am.”
He laughs.Laughs. I have him by his collar, and helaughs.“Had you shown any level of success throughout your life, I would have deemed you worthy of this family and took you in. But all you’ve managed to do is successfully prove that you are just as incompetent as your mother.”
“Have you considered that you’re the reason she’s using?” I spit out, shaking him before punching his jaw. The fact he isn’t fighting back is only pissing me off more.
“Yes. I spoiled her.” Jonathan’s lips curl in disdain as he recalls the memory. “I gave her all the money she ever asked for. Made itso she didn’t have to lift a finger or work a day in her life. Look what happened. Purposeless. Worthless.Useless.” He leans into my hold and stares up at me in plain mockery. “You have your mother’s eyes, Marie.”
My fists shake with the white-knuckled grip I have on him, and every muscle in my body strains with the need to make him more disfigured than McGill was when he died.
Deep breaths, I imagine Kohen saying to me.
Emotions leave room for error, I remind myself. Jonathan is baiting me, and he’s winning. He knows how to push each and every single one of my buttons. But I know one of his.
