Destructive King

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Why was I constantly surrounded by blind idiots?

  Men who were mean by accident?

  I would prefer the ones who were mean on purpose.

  Then again, that was half and half with Ash, but with Tank? I expected more. I came back expecting at least this close friendship that we used to have, a safety net that I so desperately needed.

  Instead.

  I came home to a pawn.

  A man who would do everything and anything to keep the mafia safe, to keep himself safe, to make sure his secrets were safe.

  It reminded me of the first time I met him when he made me promises he clearly was having trouble keeping.

  “No,” I lied but answered his question. “He’s just being himself.”

  Tank snorted, then wiped his sleeve across his mouth. I followed the direction with my eyes then looked away in disappointment. “Who is she?”

  Next to me, I could feel him still. “What? Bianca?” He let out a snort. “She was a distraction, a cover, nothing more.”

  “Mmm…” I nodded. “A cover so that what? Nobody suspects you of being FBI?”

  In an instant, he was all rage, cupping his hand over my mouth, his eyes wild. “Are you fucking crazy?”

  I did not recognize this man.

  I did not recognize the wild green eyes.

  The pale face.

  The way his mouth pulled back into a tight line.

  And in that moment, I realized he was theirs.

  No longer mine.

  Owned.

  Gently he pulled his fingers back. “Sorry, I just, I can’t blow my cover, can’t let the office know how far— I have to choose soon, Annie, just like you, and I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

  “You let yourself fall,” I answered simply. “Like the rest of us. We saw. We took. We fell, and now we’re all trying to figure out what falling actually means.”

  His green eyes narrowed. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?”

  No. Not anymore. “Yeah. Of course.” I shrugged. “I gotta head to class, but I’ll see you later…”

  “Annie.” He reached for me again, his smile kind now, sexy, compelling as he pulled back then crossed his bulky arms. “We should hang out this week.”

  “Sure. Yeah.” Over Ash’s dead body. “I don’t want to be late.”

  I walked away from his easy smile.

  I walked away from Ash’s angry stare.

  I walked into class and pulled out a chair.

  I sat and took notes, not remembering what class I was even in.

  And never, in all my life, even as an orphan, felt so alone.

  Chapter Eight

  “Everything comes to us that belongs to us if we create the capacity to receive it.” —Rabindranath Tagore

  Annie

  October

  “Get out,” Ash barked.

  I was so used to it by now that I was basically a robot. He’d make me breakfast in the morning all smiles, he’d give me maybe fifteen minutes of reprieve where I was able to actually look into what seemed like his soul, and then he’d close me out.

  Like he was rewarding me for eating.

  Only to punish me for surviving him.

  I learned early on that he liked being provoked almost as much as he liked me being submissive, so I just simply…

  Stopped.

  I stopped fighting.

  I stopped talking.

  I stopped existing.

  After all, I was the reason he had wanted to die last year; I was the reason he almost had.

  I was the reason for everything.

  The cause.

  It didn’t matter that I had my own reasons.

  That I was a victim.

  Because he was too busy taking over that entire role for himself, not allowing anyone else the chance to even grasp at the last remaining pieces that said that life wasn’t fair—for either of us.

  I guess my only saving grace with him was that he was nice to me in the mornings only to be completely cold at school.

  I reached for the car door handle and hesitated, then looked over my shoulder with a sigh. “I get it, you know.”

  He gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. “You get what?”

  His jaw was sculpted into perfection, his full lips pressed together in a firm line as his chin jutted out, his whiskey-colored hair fell across his brow.

  It hurt to stare at him.

  Someone so beautifully mean.

  “You hate me. I get it. I get that you have a part to play at the house and a part to play at college—you don’t have to punish me to remind me. I get it. I know that after eggs and orange juice, I march my ass to the car of your choosing. I know that I get in and let you turn on whatever music you want. I know that the minute you park the car, the expectation is for me to get out, for you not to be seen with me and for me to hurry and get on with my day so I can get on with my life, so I can be the good little orphan who graduates and moves on. I get it. I’ve gotten it since I was nine, Ash. You reminding me only sets the remaining pieces of hope in my soul to burn. And I don’t know if I can do that for another year. So please, just… when you park, could you say nothing?”

  He was quiet.

  His head bowed a bit, maybe in shame, maybe in submission, and then he pressed the unlock button on the door and rasped, “Be safe.”

  As much of an ass he was.

  He always told me to be safe.

  As if I mattered.

  As if my safety was his top priority.

  And I’d had it.

  “Don’t,” I pleaded, my throat thick. “Don’t ask me to be safe when the most convenient thing for you right now would be to lay down in front of your car and squeeze my eyes shut as you put it into drive—”

  “Stop!” He had my wrist in his hand before I could escape, his chest heaved, and then he was pulling me, jerking harder, until I was nearly halfway across the console.

  Hand shaking, he released me. I was too afraid to move. His blue eyes flashed as he reached out and touched my cheek with his right hand, then his left.

  In all my life, I’d never felt revered.

  But in that moment, I was somehow his.

  Owned by the look on his face.

  By the clench in his jaw and the trembling of his fingertips as he held me captive and whispered. “I don’t know how.”

  “How?” I repeated, throat dry.

  “To be a friend to the one person I blame for taking everything I’ve ever held close in my life, and yet I know I should. I want to, but then I see you, and I see—” His voice cracked. “I see her. I see those last moments.”

  I leaned in. “Her last moments?”

  “Protect Annie,” he whispered. “Protect Annie.”

  “Wait, what?” My voice shook.

  He pulled away. His hands dropped, his stone-cold face was back. “You’ll be late for lab, Annie. Run along.”

  Run. Along?

  Seriously?

  “Sometimes I hate you,” I said under my breath.

  He just let out a dark chuckle and whispered back. “Good, that makes two of us.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Life hurts a lot more than death.” —Anonymous

  Ash

  November

  I made her breakfast.

  I watched her eat.

  I smiled as much as I could, even though I knew I was spiraling again without any reason why.

  My brain told me it was because Annie reminded me of Claire.

  But my heart?

  My fucking heart told me it was because we weren’t so sure anymore because we were starting to question, starting to wonder, starting to do so many things that made me want to project my anger onto the only object I had.

  She drank her orange juice. A drop slid down her chin before she blushed and wiped it away with her napkin.

  “You ready?” I barked.

  Hell, she’d been back for nearly two months, a
nd I still couldn’t get over the way she looked at me—sometimes like I was a monster, sometimes like she wanted to pull me close, hug me tight, and scare the monster into submission, revealing the broken man beneath the surface to afraid to hope anymore.

  Annie jumped to her feet and then glared. “Yup.”

  She’d been doing that a lot more.

  The glaring.

  I told myself it was unacceptable.

  And then, during the day, I felt my body responding to her defiance, to the way she now lifted her chin at me like she was ready for a fight. I loved it more than I would ever admit.

  Just like the way I admired her ability to stay in my company and not strangle me alive.

  “Come on.” I grabbed my key fob for the Tesla and nearly jogged out to the car, not even opening her door.

  I had one class; she had two. It only made sense that I took her every Friday.

  I ignored the way my heart beat a little bit faster as she buckled her seat belt and, like always, set her satchel between her feet, then adjusted the collar of her jacket like it was out of place when we both knew it wasn’t, just a way for her to keep her hands busy, so she didn’t punch me in the face, most likely.

  And I realized then that I was lingering, that I was watching, calculating, memorizing.

  Such a dangerous thing to do—concentrating on your downfall.

  I started the car.

  We rode in silence as always.

  And I parked. “Pick you up after class.”

  “Thank you.”

  I nearly groaned.

  It was the fucking thank you that got me.

  Every. Single. Time.

  Because I knew I didn’t deserve it. I knew I was in over my head with this constant need for revenge, for her to feel my pain, right along with this natural need to protect her from every bad thing in this world.

  It was like I was playing both hero and villain, and it was exhausting.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Same spot.”

  “Great.” Her smile was forced.

  My chest hurt.

  With anger.

  Words left unsaid.

  Pain.

  So much pain because when Annie smiled, I saw Claire’s last few breaths, asking me to do the one thing I couldn’t even stomach.

  Take care of her friend.

  Watch over Annie.

  And so I did both.

  I did what Claire asked.

  And I got my revenge at the same time.

  So why did I feel guilty?

  Sick?

  She hesitated at the door and then looked over her shoulder and damned me with the sad look on her face. “I really do appreciate it, Ash. I know you’d rather drown, but thank you—for breakfast and for the ride.”

  She was out before I could say anything more.

  The door clicked shut, blanketing me in damning silence, and then my fucking phone went off. Heaving a sigh, I wiped my hands down my face. Why was it getting harder and harder to get revenge on someone who actually deserved it? And why did her words hurt?

  With a curse, I picked up my phone and felt the blood drain from my face. I’d been driven to distraction by her—that was a problem—I’d put this plan into effect over a month ago.

  Out of anger.

  Out of necessity.

  And now it was too late.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” I slammed my hand against the steering wheel because, in all my failures, this would be my worst. I’d been upset.

  Could anyone blame me?

  I’d wanted to hurt her.

  I’d wanted to embarrass her.

  Take her heart and stomp on it, then kiss it better and fuck with her head.

  And because I was still so messed up.

  I’d forgotten my own damn plan.

  I’d fallen.

  Bit by bit.

  Maybe it started with the stupid bacon.

  With the way her eyes lit up over the things that should have been handed to her the day she was born, the moment she first smiled.

  I forgot.

  And as I lifted my head, my eyes greedily searching the campus as she stopped and looked down at her phone, I knew.

  I only had one choice.

  One.

  And I had to take it.

  Or Claire would haunt me the rest of my life, and I’d want to die even more.

  Fuck, I’d fallen so deep into despair I hadn’t even seen how wrong I’d been, how horrible. And I’d been so pissed that even having someone tell me would have done nothing.

  “You’re not mine anymore,” I choked out to Claire, to whatever spirit I felt that followed me. “You’re gone… so that means I’m no longer yours.”

  I could have sworn I heard her say. “Go.”

  Chapter Ten

  “The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.” —Harriet Beecher Stowe

  Annie

  December

  December sucked.

  Really, that was all there was to it.

  I got out of the car every stupid day. I walked to my classes, I went through the motions like every student did, I gave Ash a wide berth and was thankful for Izzy when I did see her or even Serena on campus for her remaining final class, but other than that.

  I was alone.

  And for some reason, it made me feel destitute. I lived in the home of one of the wealthiest families in the US, and still, I found myself…

  Jealous.

  It all started during lunch yesterday. I went to the rich kid cafeteria because of who basically owned me. I watched people eat organic everything from pasta to soups to salads to bread that wasn’t even bread anymore, and when I couldn’t stomach all the faces openly staring at me, I went to the Quick Bite Grill in search of a hamburger only to have even more eyes staring at me as if I didn’t belong there either.

  And that was the problem.

  I was Cinderella but in the wrong story.

  I wasn’t a slave.

  I wasn’t a princess either.

  I was a charity case who had no place at Eagle Elite, and yet it was my only ticket to a life where I no longer had to worry about any of these things anymore.

  I decided if I could just survive my lunch hour, I could survive anything, even if it included violence—what with the way students stared at me, all calculated, judging, from what I wore to how I did my hair, and it didn’t matter if I was in the earlier lunch with the richer kids or with the later lunch with the scholarship kids, I had no place.

  Then again, I’d never had a place.

  But this last year, at one point, I’d felt like I did.

  When Serena and Junior took Tank and me in, when they told us we had a choice when they decided to train the rest of the De Lange kids despite their parentage, when they looked at me like I was more than my blood.

  I finally had hope.

  But now, it was as if everything was forgotten.

  As if they realized I wasn’t De Lange.

  I was a nobody.

  Not worth training, only worth protecting because of who I had been to Tank, and even then, all he’d said was, she’s with me, like some horrible gang movie where I went where he went.

  And still, was I even with him?

  Um no, I was with the enemy.

  Just thinking about Ash had me fuming.

  Hot all over.

  Angry.

  “Until the stars fall,” Ash had whispered, instead of the sky but why? And why was I so damn fixated?

  I shoved the phrase from my head and stared straight ahead, lifting a cold fry to my mouth only to drop it and get rid of the rest of my lunch in the scholarship kids’ section.

  When I left the building, he was there.

  Because, of course, he was everywhere.

  “Ready?” Ash had said yesterday without looking up.

  “Yeah.” I gripped my backpack tighter.

  “Shit.” He dropped his arm and showed me his phone. “C
ould you at least try to be more discreet?”

  “What?” I was the epitome of discreet; nobody cared because nobody looked in my direction with anything but pity to fill the lonely void I carried.

  There was a pic on Twitter of me smiling at Tank.

  And then smiling at the TA in my bio class, the hashtag read “#sluttytriangle,” as if I was leading them both on.

  Tears had burned the back of my eyes. “I hate social media.”

  Ash snorted out a laugh. “Careful, there’s truth to everything, isn’t there?”

  I had said nothing.

  Instead, I went home.

  I did my homework.

  And at the end of the day, when everyone was sleeping.

  I cried for the girl I used to be.

  Then cried for the one I had to become.

  And finally cried for the one I wished I could be, a future where I was someone stronger.

  A future.

  With someone like the person I hated the most.

  Yet swore to my mom to trust.

  An Abandonato whose heart wasn’t even his to give.

  Ash.

  Mine.

  But never to be claimed.

  Damned.

  And wallowing in it like he wanted it more than life. I shook the thoughts of yesterday away. This morning I’d had a plan.

  Gratitude.

  Maybe if I started thanking him rather than reacting or just plain ignoring, he would see that I wasn’t the monster he made me out to be.

  It had been worth a shot, and by the look on Ash’s face this morning, he’d been so stunned that it was as though I’d just pulled out a gun and announced I knew how to use it.

  I smiled a bit and gripped my bag tighter.

  Maybe today would be the day where things changed for us, for me.

  The wind picked up around my hair, setting a cold chill deep in my bones as I tried to pull my jacket tighter around my body.

  I was about maybe thirty feet from the parking lot when I noticed people pointing at me, laughing, then looking back down at their phones.

  Mine was in my bag, so I stopped walking and quickly grabbed it to see if there was a tweet or something on the Eagle Elite social media account. Nobody knew who controlled it, only that we didn’t want to get on that person’s bad side. Then again, I’d already been an unlucky victim, so fingers crossed I wasn’t continually pissing off the rich kids.