“As you so eloquently said earlier, none of your business.”
“Now, now.” Remi steps between us. “No need to fight when my lordship is here. Drinks on me?”
“Take him.” I flick my finger in my brother’s general direction. “He’s obviously in desperate need of a wake-up call.”
“And you’re not?” Bran gently pushes Remi away and gets in my face. “What Nikolai did just now will look like a warm-up once he finds out about your recent fixation on his sister.”
“His sister?” Remi asks, sounding as lost as a lamb. “Mia?”
I grin, purposefully putting my bloodied teeth on display.
Naturally, when I found her having fun with Bran and Remi, I was under the obligation to set the record straight and hint, not so subtly, that she was off-limits.
Bran shares my genes and, therefore, is intelligent enough to put certain pieces together. But Remi seems to have perfected the fool’s image, even though it’s mostly that—an image. Now, however, he’s connected the dots and looks at me as if I’ve completely lost my marbles and will actively cause a third world war.
“He won’t be able to hurt me in this lifetime. I, on the other hand…” My voice drops. “Can finish what I started with his meaningless life.”
“At the expense of losing Mia for good?” Bran delivers the question with disturbing calm.
“Utter nonsense. If anything, she should kiss my feet for taking on the tedious task of removing the unnecessary oaf from her life.”
“Just because you think so little of your own siblings doesn’t mean everyone else shares your sentiments.” He jams his index finger against my shoulder. “If you cared to know more about Mia, you would’ve found out that she loves and, more importantly, respects both her siblings. They have a tight relationship, ask about one another all the time, and make sure to meet several times a week. But then again, you’ve always faked your way through those feelings, so of course you wouldn’t know what they mean, even if they were to splash your precious car’s windshield. So, by all means, attack her brother and cousins. Burn down their mansion and sabotage their existence. Destroy whatever saving grace she sees in you so she’ll send you packing. The way I see it, you don’t deserve her and never will.”
“If you’re done preaching like a hypocritical pastor…” I push past him and control the limp in my step.
I’m nothing less than the personification of physical perfection, and the world won’t see anything else, not even if I’m drowning in my own blood.
Bran’s words keep ringing in my ears like an unholy prayer. Or maybe it’s holy, because the more I think about it, the more pissed off I get.
After washing up in the locker room and changing into casual trousers and a hoodie, I head to the half-deserted car park.
My whole body aches as I slowly slide into the driver seat. That fucker Nikolai got me good and probably bruised several of my ribs.
I pull out my phone and find a few texts.
Ava: I can’t believe you lost after I bet on you. What the hell, Lan?
Rory: If you don’t give me my rightful place, you’ll deeply regret this, Landon. Remember, you’re not immortal.
Bethany: I miss our good times. Can I watch if I bring you one of my friends?
Nila: You’re belittling us at this point, Lan. Who’s getting all your attention?
Definitely not you.
I ignore all of them, except for Ava, whom I tell that I’ll pay her back the next time we meet.
Usually, I tolerate people, but at this point, they’re becoming my least favorite chess pieces that I’d much rather kill off instead of seeing them on my board.
I scroll to the text that Mia obviously read but didn’t reply to. When she said she was abandoning me for some stupid family dinner, I personally sent a fighting invitation to Nikolai that I knew he wouldn’t refuse.
He’s wanted to fight me ever since the incident that sent him to the hospital, but due to being busy with his sister, I haven’t really had time for the fight club.
So yes, I might have ruined her family night, but then again, I clearly stated I’m not to be shoved aside to a mere secondary role.
I tap the back of the phone, contemplating how to drag her out of her ivory castle. I suppose I could light it on fire again, but the thought that she might accidentally get hurt promptly removes that thought from my mind.
There’s the option of going home and calling it a night, but my beast rebels against the very foundation of that idea.
I’ve been keeping him entertained by chasing, biting, choking, and fucking Mia in the most acrobatic positions. Not to mention the bursts of creativity caused by her mere presence.
Forget being able to sculpt after she’s gone. That’s impossible now. My muse only manifests itself whenever Mia is around and is at its peak after I’ve fucked her to several powerful orgasms.
So I can’t possibly get to work now or I’ll only produce mediocracy. After being used to glimpses of perfection, I can’t allow myself to slide back down to the peasant category.
I just refuse to work on anything but finishing touches when she’s not around.
The addiction I feared is now flowing in my veins and turning into a nuisance. The worst part is that it’s probably too late to cut it out without suffering the consequences.
So what should I do now?
Maybe you can just water the plants as she asked?
I’m about to reach for that sappy part of my brain and strangle him to death, but I catch a glimpse of three masked men standing in front of my car.
Well, well.
Seems my beast won’t go home empty, after all.
They are, of course, the Heathens. The one wearing a yellow stitch mask didn’t even bother to put any effort into hiding his identity. Nikolai is still wearing black shorts from when we were fighting. His distinctive tattoos, which could give an artist a stroke, are on full display.
A baseball bat hangs nonchalantly on the shoulder of Red Mask, who’s none other than Killian. The reason I know is disgusting at best and involves seeing Glyn wearing it before making out with the bastard in his car when they came to visit my parents.
Naturally, I emptied his tires of air the moment he went inside. All four of them.
What? I managed to blame it on wild animals.
The orange mask is Jeremy, judging by the height and unnecessarily bulky build.
His weapon is a metal golf club that could possibly shatter someone’s skull. The target in this case being me.
But I do have a car that could crush a few legs. Preferably all three pairs of them. I grin as I rev my engine.
This baby can go from zero to one hundred in a few seconds and will teach them a lesson or two.
Nikolai approaches first, not giving a fuck about my McLaren’s loud engine.
He hits the bonnet with a fist. “Come outside.”
The tasteless brute dared to touch my car.
All I need is to hit the accelerator and he’ll join his family’s graves.
One second passes.
Two.
Three.
I don’t hit it.
As annoying as Bran is, he was right. If I hurt Nikolai, Mia is out of the picture faster than a rocket. Hell, she might hurt me back for revenge like she did with that blood bath.
In fact, that would be mild compared to what she’d do to me this time. And while I don’t give a fuck about violence, I do give two fucks about her pulling away from me.
Truth is, I give more than a few fucks. A dozen of them, to be more specific.
I push my gear stick back to Park, shut off the engine, and step out of the car. Motherfucker.
Pain spreads through my limbs. It takes me more effort than necessary to stand by the car and paint a mocking smile on my face.
“To what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?”
“Do you want us to start counting all the shit you’ve stirred?” Jeremy asks while tapping his golf club on the ground.
“We’d probably be a while if you do that, so how about I take a rain check on that and this entire Halloween-esque encounter?”