“I don’t like you,” I answer honestly. Whether there’s attraction here or an appeal that triggers this baser part of me, it doesn’t negate that I don’t like him.
Hate is a strong word, one that festers from emotions, but it’s too much. He doesn’t get the attachment of that word.
“For once, Corpse, I actually believe you.”
It’s true.
“You’re a dick,” I add, letting out a long breath. “You’re unnecessarily crude and standoffish.”
“You like when I’m crude,” he argues, his tone feathering on something not cautious or soft. “Especially since it makes you wet.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble, wanting to slap him. The last time I let him near me, inside me, he said unforgivable things about Cass. He’s on my shit list.
“I’m sorry,” he offers, shutting down my mind with two simple words.
“Excuse me?”
He looks at me, his eyes telling me he’s vulnerable. “Saying that shit about Cassidy... I went too far.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” I don’t allow myself to relax for him. He doesn’t deserve my kindness.
He lifts his hands again as if to remedy the need to touch me, but my single glare has him dropping them. “I’m sorry. Cassidy was my friend before...”
Shock hits me square in the chest. Cassidy never mentioned him once. “I don’t believe you.” Cassidy might have hidden a lot from me, but I knew his friends, and Jordan wasn’t one of them.
“We had rules,” he explains as if he knows where my head is. “He and I played rugby together.”
“I can’t recall seeing you once on the field.”
He cringes a bit before peering at me with a sheepish expression. “I wasn’t in the games much, but when I was, it wasn’t like I was Lux or Cass. I’d been second string. There but not important enough to play.”
“How did you know him?”
His face falls a bit. “My job was to watch him.”
Thickness becomes all my throat feels, and the inability to breathe hurts. “D-did y-you...” I attempt to ask, knowing the words won’t form.
“Get him killed?” he offers, his face stony but not impenetrable. “No, Colt. I’d finally come around to what he wanted. Finally, I planned on helping him. Then that night... Fuck.”
“This is cute.”
The voice sends tendrils of disgust through me. I shudder, feeling my body break out in chills.
Turning around, I spot Jordan’s father, Elijah.
He glowers at the both of us. “Dinner is about to start. I don’t need to remind you what disobedience offers.”
He isn’t speaking to me with those words. I’s Jordan he’s threatening. When Jordan flinches, I know he’s used to what those words mean.
Grabbing Jordan by the arm and smiling at Elijah, I start leading him away. “Oh my gosh!” I feign excitement. “Don’t want to miss dinner with the fam, Jordy.” Neither smile, but I continue. “Let’s get a seat!”
Without another word or backward glance, I haul Jordan with me and toward the dining room.
As soon as we enter the room, I notice how different I look compared to all the families. When I arrived with Lux, he forced me to shower and clean up. If not, I’d look like a bigger mess than I already do, while everyone else is all prim and proper.
Then I notice the spot where I’ll be sitting, and my discomfort rises once again.
“You shouldn’t play around with my father,” Jordan explains when I drop his arm.
I twist to see his face, and stiffness is all that meets me.
“Be quiet during dinner,” he adds.
Listening to others has never been my strongest trait, but I nod to ease his mind.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Colt
“This is how it’s going to go,” Elijah starts, adjusting his wine-red tie.
The entire room silences for him as if he’s always held this power to quiet their every word. He stands at the head of the table, all families present sitting, waiting for his word. He’s taller than I remembered from earlier, muscular and strong too. His dead-set expression commands every gaze in the room.
My stomach churns as he peers at everyone in the room, finally landing on me. The sick gleam flickering in his false cordial pretense has me shivering in discomfort. I shift, feeling the chair cushion move while I attempt to not feel like the freak at a circus, waiting for the pointing fingers and atrocious laughter.
“Once dinner ends, we’ll be traveling to the Edgington Estates. This is our annual event. Dinner, celebration, and then room and board for our Emeralds.”
Everyone nods enthusiastically, not showing a sign of guilt for putting their children through the hell that’s their precious society. Do they not realize what they do to us? What their greed and influence force us to conform to?
“Furthermore, we expect all families to attend our annual Christmas event, especially if we’re to plan his upcoming wedding.”
The breath lingering in my lungs deflates at the reminder that these boys aren’t and never will be mine. He’s to be married to someone who doesn’t love him, to experience her and not me any longer.
The sinking feeling overwhelms me, clawing at my chest with each foot beneath the murky water. It’s not real, but the suffocation feels no less realistic than the sadness inside me.
Everyone glances around for someone to say something, to acknowledge the fact that a teenager is getting married before he even graduates, but I can’t seem to look away from Lucifer himself, finally seated at the head of the table.
How the hell is this life?
Are there no longer morals?
Is life filled with such trivial vitriol that it can't show the wrongness of this entire situation?
To my left, I feel Lux shift, almost mirroring my discomfort. It only furthers my feelings that he’s involved with Jordan in a way I’d always imagined but never thought it’d happen. Does he care? The saint of Arcadia, the boy who seems to have everything yet nothing at all... has his heart grown?
To my right, Mom and Moms sit next to each other, smiling nonchalantly, like there’s no stress in the world, uncaring that they’ve sent their daughter to the slaughter.
It’s not like they’re completely naive, right?
Jordan sits next to his father, and I’m sad I didn’t get to occupy Jordan’s mind with my presence, but he explained to me he’ll always be forced to sit at his father’s side.
After everyone’s seated, Elijah silences the little chatter with a raise of a glass of wine. "Make sure your plans fit around the normal Christmas schedule, especially the dinner with the kids and significant others."
That’s when I notice no one’s significant others besides Moms is in the room. It’s almost all men.
Melissa sits opposite of me, and her face is pale. She hasn't spoken a word to me since we were in the auditorium, and her two twin brothers are nowhere to be found.
I don't smile, and neither do any of the guys.
Why is this such a mess?
When will I get answers?
"Elijah, what about New Years?" asks Midas, Lux's dad. He's not in my best line of vision, sitting far enough back to where he's hidden behind Lux. Stretching over to see him isn't exactly easy, but I attempt to look at him, not wanting to be in the line of sight of Elijah anymore.
"What about New Years?" Elijah condescends. “Every year, we do the Solitaire Gala, where all founding families and some very important people come to the house and conversate. It's where bloodlines are thickened, weddings are had, and new engagements are settled. Is there a reason you're asking me a question you already know an answer to?"
The words are intended to jab, to belittle him, and it has me wondering why Midas takes it with ease.
"Lux's announcement. I was thinking it would be a proper time to let the families know," Midas explains with power and stiffness, a cordial voice only a politician could truly master.
Next to
me, Lux flinches.
"Dad," Lux responds, his voice strong and unlike the fear in his thumping leg. "We discussed it wouldn't be until spring."
I force my view to see Midas' response and wish I hadn't. His normally unfazed botox-ridden-villainy face usually seems calm and unaffected. Right now, though, hatred and disappointment dance across his features. His appearance may be a mask, but it reminds me of the purge ones.
X marks the spot.
Silence greets us all, and I'm scared of what Midas might do to Lux after this dinner. I can't let him hurt Lux.
It's never been said, shown, or expressed, but no man looks at their child the way Midas does without a long history of hurting them with his fists.
"Nevertheless, we can discuss this in private, Midas," Elijah booms, acting as if he's a god and we're all simply his servants.
Maybe we are.
Maybe he's the key.
Maybe if I ruin him, the Emeralds will cease to exist.
What if that’s the key to end this all? Destroy the unworthy king on top of the mangled throne?
"Dinner," a blonde woman with plastic features and overly large breasts announces as she struts in.
Jordan’s face pales a bit, showing an emotion I can’t quite decipher.
The woman goes straight to Elijah, kissing him with fervor, not sparing anyone a glance as she mauls his face. As inappropriate and uncomfortable as it is, it gives me an opening to grip Lux's hand, lacing our fingers together, showing him any strength I can offer.
His shoulders visibly relax, his exhale loud to me but seemingly silent to everyone dumbstruck at the cringy way Elijah holds the woman.
I feel his breath against my ear before hearing his words. "Thank you, Colton."
My body warms at him using my name instead of his usual hate-filled pet name. While I cherish the moment, everyone starts discussing school programs, and I wait for the moment the Emeralds are discussed.
Not even thirty minutes later, while I’m seemingly forgotten with my silence, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It startles me, and I can’t help but jump at the surprise contact.
“We need to discuss your future.”
Without needing to look behind or above me, I’m very aware of Elijah’s presence. It’s big and overwhelming. In the worst way, too, it’s dangerous, life-threatening, and promising of everything bad.
Lux grabs my hand, squeezing it, but I untangle our fingers, suck in a breath, and follow Jordan’s dad out of the dining room.
He’s absolutely quiet as we walk. Even his footsteps bring me foreboding. My paranoia and anxiety have only strengthened in the past few weeks. Yang’s death has only furthered it, and that’s so recent that my body and mind are taking its time to connect and mourn.
Do I really have time to truly feel, especially with everything happening right now?
He leads us down several hallways, and I’m not even sure which part of the tower we’re in because my mind keeps traveling to my best friend’s dead body, my brother’s, and the fact that it’s only been a day since I sliced open my wrists. The tenderness I feel is as effervescent as the nausea clawing up my throat.
“I’m glad you decided to be the daughter I know Tasha would have trained you to be,” Elijah mentions, stopping in a room that’s more of an office than anything else.
This tower is weird, unexplored, a place where everything is a mystery and nothing truly makes sense.
Instead of flinching, reacting the way my body and heart are demanding, I stay frozen, docile like he wants, saving face, just in case. Honestly, he’s dragged me far from everyone else, and I’m not sure what he’s capable of, just that he’s not a good guy.
“Nothing to say, Colton?”
I shake my head, settling on answering a moment later. “No, sir.”
He smiles. Much like his face, it’s fake and forced, but I offer one back.
“Once we arrive at the Edgington Estates, you’ll be completely at my beck and call.”
The fact that he’s talking to me as if I’m some sort of servant or even a slave has me recoiling into myself. If he thinks he’ll be able to touch me, I’ll cut off his balls and feed them to him.
“What am I doing during these weeks?” I try to come off less hostile than I feel, but it’s incredibly hard when disdain paints my insides like my blood does.
“You will know as soon as we’re there, but first, you’ll be taken to the hairdresser,” he grunts disapprovingly, closing the gap between us and touching my hair.
Unlike with my boys, his touch is unsettling and unwanted, and he can tell by the way he smiles in this evil way.
“This isn’t acceptable. I’ll allow you to choose your hair, but it will be more natural. No bright colors, no gothic undertones.” He tugs the strands. “You will tone down your grungy poor girl vibe and become the woman your mother intended.”
I cringe, unable to hold it back any. “I won’t.”
The rebellion in me festers, pounding at my ribcage, begging to be let out, but with the murderous glint in his eyes, testing his patience isn’t on my to-do list.
“You will. Disappointing me, not doing as you’re told, that is unacceptable behavior.”
Closing my eyes, I beg myself for some type of inner strength, the patience Cass always had but I never could quite garner.
Whatever happens right now, in this moment, it could save me.
I could play the doll.
It’s easy.
My mothers have forced it upon me. The guys have nearly begged it of me, and finally, this inhumane person, he’s not asking.
“There are some ground rules,” he adds, breaking my inner battle. Turning my chin up, I see his barely abated hatred for me, simmering, readying to boil over. “One, you will not fraternize with my son, nor will you fraternize with anyone at the Estate.”
I nod, unable to say a single thing without blowing up.
“Two, you will dress as any of my Estate staff does. We have assigned wear.”
My nose scrunches of its own accord, and his lip curls. Whether its in disdain or triumph, it’s there, taunting me.
“Three, you will take out all of your piercings and cover your tattoos and disgusting scars from self-infliction, and we’ll pretend you’re not a damaged doll no one wants anymore.”
Tears of anger prick my eyes, but I swallow them down along with my pride, numbing out his words that mean nothing to me.
“Four, anything that occurs during your time at the Estate will never be discussed. This place is one where many things happen. Some you will learn as soon as day one. Others you’ll learn the hard way, mostly things you’ll hope to never experience, but the choice is yours, Colton. You can behave and make it out to where you’ll be the woman you were meant to be once Cassidy died, or you can be six feet under, wishing you never learned that lesson.”
“Do I have a choice?” I dare ask, knowing the answer before the words slip free from his mouth.
“You never did.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jordan
Watching Colt leave with my father has my stomach feeling anything but calm. He’s never had good intentions with anyone, and the fact that he went out of his way to take her out of the room without eyes says way too much.
The other scary and infuriating part is Lux’s father, Midas. The way he stared at Lux with a vehemence I recognize festers inside me. He’s going to hurt Lux when this dinner is over, and improvising to save him may not work since my father has kept me on a leash since he arrived.
Lux and I should’ve erased all of the Arcadia tapes. Between him and me fucking and all the footage of Colt, I’m terrified.
While everyone’s distracted by the idle chatter involving Christmas and New Year’s, I’m sneaking toward Lux, hoping his father doesn’t shoo me away.
He hates me, Midas, I think. He hasn't ever been vocal about it, but my father tells me he's disappointed in me too. I’m not sure why he says that, but he makes
sure to let me know every chance he gets.
I sidle up to Lux. He doesn’t flinch, and by the stiffness in his shoulders, I know he’s hanging onto his sanity by a thread. Leaning into him, I whisper slightly, “Talk.”
He doesn’t nod, but he rises, excusing himself, and after a second, I follow. Outside the main door, he’s waiting, and he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the stairs.
Opal Tower is the biggest enigma of this campus. Between the ten unfinished floors and the secrets held within them, it’s basically a museum of bad decisions waiting to happen.
When I was younger and dad wasn’t a sycophant, he would bring me and Maxim here. We would play in the upper floors, exploring, thinking we were ghost hunters and detectives. Father wasn't always insane and deadly, but that changed when he sentenced Maxim to death.
Lux doesn't speak as we head up the floors. Did he explore up here too? It's not news that most kids in the Vestige were born when their parents weren't graduated or soon after. Our parents are young, and somehow, they're still as deadly as their parents once were.
It's insane to think that just within a few years, they drastically change, greed getting the better of them and love never existing.
Once we round the first of the unfinished floors, I think he'll stop. This floor is the messiest, or it was the one I'd always found myself and Maxim in. The last time I'd been here had to be a decade ago.
"Not here," he says, and we head up farther.
Yes, there are more floors, but, crazy tidbit, the elevators don't go this high, and the stairs are the only way to get there. Once we hit the next floor, the only way up is by entering the floor, going to the middle, and entering the secret staircase.
This building used to feel endless when I was younger. Sometimes, Maxim would play hide and seek with me, and he would lose me or vice versa, and we would have to find our way back.
Stopping at the next floor, he opens the door. From this viewpoint, it's the top of the building. To an unknown person, they would believe there isn't another floor, but there are eight more. It's the maze to find the stairs that's always funnest.
Here Lies a Saint: A Dark Bully Academy Romance Page 15
