Broken Wings (Dark Legacy #1)

“Okay, just do it,” I grit out.

Another brush of cool alcohol wipe across my skin, and then a short pause while the medic waved her hand to dry the alcohol before inserting a needle with the smallest prick of pain. I squeezed Dylan’s hand so tightly I worried I might be cutting off circulation, but he never complained or tried to get free. Deciding it was easier to just keep my eyes closed until we got to the hospital, I tried not to think about Beck. From the moment Dylan climbed in with us, I knew Beck was going back to icing me out of his life. He’d sent his friend to keep an eye on us rather than doing it himself.

I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit it cut me up inside to have Asshole Beck back.

But it was also good. I needed this lesson. To learn to protect myself, because if there was one thing I knew about the heirs of Delta, they now had the power to really hurt me. I couldn’t let that happen. I had such little left in my life, if I lost one more thing…

I wasn’t sure I’d survive.





15





The doctors wanted to keep me in overnight, but I refused. Desperation to put some distance between the boys and myself pushed me to run, and to run fast. I had to get my emotions back under control. I also needed to have a conversation with Debitch, because there were things I needed to ask her. Important things. If she wanted to use me as her heir, then she would need to bring more to the party. For too long I’d let her hold all the cards, have all the power, but that shit was over today.

When I was dropped in front of the Deboise estate, the gates slid open, and I found a cart waiting for me. My ribs were aching again after all of the prodding and poking, so I gently eased myself onto the seat and hoped that the painkillers would kick in soon.

The trip back to the giant mansion was fast, and when I got off, Stewart was waiting in the front hall, his face creased in concern.

“Ms. Deboise … Riley. I was so worried about you,” he said as I limped inside. Reaching out I patted him on the arm.

“I’m fine, Stew, don’t even worry about it. Riley Jameson is one tough cookie.”

“It’s Deboise.” Her cold voice had Stewart jerking back from me, a mask falling over his face.

I smirked at Catherine as she slinked into the room, dressed like she was off to fucking fashion week—or an upscale funeral. Knee-length, perfectly tailored black dress, dark hair piled up on top of her head, makeup flawless and dark.

Bitch.

Meanwhile, I was over here looking like I’d just been in a plane crash and trekked through a forest filled with lunatic murderers.

“Black for mourning, Mother?” I said with as much sneer as I could manage. In this moment I wanted to rip her fucking head off and kick her lifeless body off a cliff.

She waved an elegant, red-nailed tipped hand at me. “Always so dramatic. You survived. You needed to toughen up, it’s not easy being a Deboise, and this was a good introduction for you.”

There was this ticking in my brain, like the anger was so huge now, that my head felt like it was about to explode.

“Why the fuck did you bring me into this world?” I seethed, taking a step closer to her. I had nothing on me but a borrowed shirt, ratty jeans, a new brace on my broken arm, and one small bottle of pain relief.

But Catherine still flinched back slightly, as if I was coming at her with a weapon.

She recovered quickly though. “I brought you into this world because Deboise needs an heir to keep our vote in Delta. It’s our most important rule. Blood is thicker than water. And thanks to you, I cannot have any more children, so you are it for us.”

You’re welcome, bitch.

“What if I don’t want to be part of your billionaire club? What if I don’t want to be one of the inheritors of a corrupt, evil, archaic company?”

Catherine laughed, a Disney villain kind of chuckle. “Dear child. Whatever made you think that you ever had a choice in this matter? You have no rights here. No choices. You belong to me.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

Whatever sliver of unease she had shown before was gone now as she closed in, standing right before me. In her heels she was taller than me, but I was too angry to feel intimidated. “You have weaknesses, Riley,” she whispered. “Do you want to lose Dante the way you lost your parents? Or … how about Eddy? I’ve heard you two are great friends now. Would be a shame if anything happened to either of them.”

That. Fucking. Bitch.

She had me exactly where she wanted me.

A thought hit me so hard and fast that I actually gasped. “Did you kill my parents?”

Until I talked with the guys last night, I’d never thought the accident was anything other than an accident, but now…

Catherine chuckled again. “No, I can’t claim credit for that. The storm timed itself perfectly, and I was able to maintain my seat at the table.”

If she was lying, she was the best liar I’d ever seen. My limbs actually shook in that moment as I considered the possibility that my parent’s death had been orchestrated by someone. Either Delta’s goons, or Huntley’s. Either a possibility.

“I don’t believe you, bitch.” I decided to shake her up.

Catherine turned and before I could react, smacked me hard across the face. Stewart, who must have been hiding in the wings, rushed out then and caught me. My injured side and arm screamed at me, because they’d both been jerked as I fell.

“Mistress, she was just in an airplane crash,” he said softly. “You could really hurt her.”

Not wanting her to turn her ire on the poor guy, I shook my head and straightened. Then I swung my broken arm, the one with the hard shell, and smashed it into the side of her head. I hadn’t given myself a second to think about it, so it took both of us by surprise.

Catherine let out a low shriek, teetering on her heels for a moment before landing heavily against a nearby table with a large vase on it. The vase, which was tall and expensive looking, with dozens of colors woven through the glass, smashed to the ground. The sound echoed around the cavernous front entrance.

When Catherine finally regained her feet, her eyes were molten pools of blue fury, and she came at me with both arms extended. I prepared myself for her violence, but just before she reached me, a tall man rushed out from a side door and intercepted her.

It took me a minute to realize he was dressed as nicely as she was. Charcoal suit, custom fitted to his tall, well-built frame. Thick black hair with just a few touches of gray at the temples, and eyes that were a deep chocolate brown. I stumbled back as our gazes met, his over a struggling Catherine’s shoulder, from where he’d spun her around to try and calm her down.

“Who are you?” I asked, breathing rapidly.

He didn’t say anything at first, instead taking a moment to stare at me in what might have been an awkward way, but there was nothing sexual in that gaze. It was almost … sad.

Catherine had finally stopped fighting him, but I could see the way her back heaved as she breathed deeply, trying to get herself under control.

“You look just like him,” the man said, his voice hoarse. “Like my son.”

My breath caught in my chest, and I felt a sting of pain at those words. This was my birth-father, the elusive Richard. He’d stopped Catherine from attacking me.

After another few minutes, he released her, and she spun around to face me. A hand on her shoulder kept her from striding forward. “You’re lucky I need you alive,” she spat at me, her face awash in hatred.

I smiled sweetly. “That’s right, bitch. You need me. And if you’d like me to continue to do your bidding like a good little heir, there’s a few things I will require.”

Richard waved a hand tiredly at me. “Whatever you want, you’ve got it. Just ask Stewart. I give him permission to purchase anything.”