“Missed you, too, little Kill. But don’t go changing lanes after you f—touched my cousin.” Eli raises a brow. “She’d cry.”
“Are you done with whatever fucked-up shit you’re on?” Landon glares at the both of us, probably blindsided by my acquaintance with his cousin.
Eli and I met when we were young, when his parents visited mine in the States. I was around six that time and he was twelve, and even though we were practically strangers, it was the first time I found someone whose look mirrored mine.
That encounter was fascinating and irritating. I ended up beating his brother, Creighton, up just to rile him, and he would’ve ripped me a new one if Gareth, righteous golden boy Gareth, hadn’t intervened.
Fun times.
Just when I think all the players are here, a third person walks inside wearing jogging clothes. No kidding. Creighton appears as if he stumbled upon the place by chance.
Eli releases Landon and frowns at his brother. “What are you doing here?”
“Last I checked, I’m part of the King family.” That’s genuinely the most I’ve heard the emo fuck say. He usually stands at the corner of the table, spoken to but never replies, and is constantly bugged by both Remington and Annika.
A fact I’m intentionally keeping from Jeremy until further notice.
That notice is now.
He’ll regret messing with me when Jeremy uses his blood as his room’s wallpaper.
Besides, I’ve done my research on Glyndon’s family, and the seemingly docile, pretty boy actually has dark tastes no one is aware of.
Except for maybe Eli.
“I called him over,” Landon says without breaking eye contact with me.
“Then maybe I should call Brandon over, too,” Eli announces.
“If you want him to personally report us, then by all means.”
“I must say, I’m touched. You gathered almost the entire King clan just for me. If I’d known there would be a welcome-to-the-family ceremony, I would’ve put on my tux.”
Landon rolls his neck until the bones crack. “You think I’m playing?”
“I know you’re not. But don’t you think this is too extreme for the occasion?”
“Not as extreme as you sleeping with my sister when I clearly told you not to.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed permission from anyone about the status of our growing relationship.”
“Now, you do.”
“What are your demands, Your Majesty?”
“No demands, just torture.” He nods at Eli and he directs the high-pressure water straight in my face.
I was ready for it since they showcased their weapon of choice, but actually being blinded by water and breathing it instead of air is different in a practical sense.
The force physically jerks my head back and someone holds my shoulders from behind, keeping me in place.
My lungs burn and I swallow more water than I can handle. The spasms in my limbs increase in intensity until they’re close to seizure level.
It’s fucking irritating when my physical being chooses to fail my mind.
Just when I think I’ll faint, the flow stops. I cough, spluttering on all the water and dragging it and air in through my mouth.
My hair and clothes are soaked, the droplets forming a pool on the ground.
Once I’ve gotten enough air, I burst out laughing. “That’s all you got? What are you? A fucking amateur?”
“I wouldn’t provoke him if I were you.” Eli speaks in a tone that I would believe intends good if I didn’t already know that the motherfucker left his soul in his mother’s womb and was miraculously born without one.
“If you’re going to torture me, do it properly and draw some blood. This isn’t some kid’s game.”
Creighton—who was the one grabbing my shoulders all this time—releases me and stalks to the door without a word.
“Where are you going, punk?” Eli asks.
“Out. I’m bored.” And then he leaves as if he was never there.
“Fucker needs his head checked,” Eli says with fake sympathy.
“Shouldn’t you set an example and do it first, E?” I taunt with a grin.
He merely stares at me blankly.
“Here’s how it will go.” Landon drags his club on the ground, creating a screeching, annoying sensory sound, and keeps the rhythm as he speaks. “Once we’re done with our little get-together here, you’re going to nurse your wounds, then text my baby sis that you no longer want her, and you’ll be brutal about it. I want you to make her hate you so it’ll be easier for her to forget you.”
“Question.” I interrupt in a super-serious tone. “I would’ve raised my hand, but they’re bound. Unless you want to change that?” When he keeps dragging his golf club on the ground, I continue. “Doesn’t hurt to ask. So my question is, would that plan work if she already hates me?”
“That’s a damn good question,” Eli agrees.
“Thanks, man.”
“Doesn’t matter what she feels for you now. I’ll make sure she leaves you behind. And I will personally choose the next man in her life.”
For the first time since this whole charade started, I want to bash Landon’s skull with his golf club and watch his brains splatter on the walls.
This motherfucker can hurt me all he wants, but giving Glyndon to someone else is where his life starts to be in jeopardy.
“You mean someone you can manipulate?” I smirk. “Let me guess, you personally approved of all her previous boring boyfriends, probably threatened them not to touch her either. Hmm, I don’t think she’ll react well to that information.”
“Not sure she’d care about that when she learns what you did at your old school.”
My smirk remains in place, but it falters for a bit and it’s Landon’s turn to smirk. “That’s right, I did my research and even fucked the skeletons in your closet. A bit dry, but they’d do. Not sure our little princess would like them that much. Isn’t that right, Eli?”
“I’m inclined to agree. Our Glyn was always a scaredy-cat, never liked skeletons.”
“Or hypocrites.”
“Or you.” I grin.
“The fuck did you just say?”
“Your own brother and sister don’t even like you, so you fill that emptiness with sculptures and this whole bullshit. Very sad.”
He swings his club and hits me across the face. Eli opens the water, and this time, I swing and fall backward.
The loud thud echoes in the air as my body hits the ground.
My vision blackens from the lack of air as cold water drenches me whole.
Ah, fuck.
I’m going to lose consciousness. Or worse, maybe die.
People say their life flashes before their eyes in the last moments, but that’s not what happens.
My life isn’t what I see.
It’s Glyndon smiling. I always liked her sweet little smile, probably because it was rarely ever directed at me.
She’s smiling at me now, calling my name, but I can’t hear her.
A commotion snaps me from the image that I was enjoying.
The water stops and I twist onto my side, coughing and inhaling air as if through small straws.
“What is wrong with you?” Brandon pushes at Eli’s chest. “How can you help him with this?”
“He asked nicely?” Eli says casually.