by V. F. Mason
Turning off the TV, I grab my keys and gun as I head to the door. “I understand, Jaxon. The only reason I called was because you made a big deal out of going to war with them.” A beat passes, and I add, “It would have been foolish of me to expect any kind of support from the MacAlisters anyway, right? We bastards don’t have the privileges the legitimate kids get.”
“Ryder—”
I hang up, shutting up his voice as it brings unwanted memories, and I can’t be anything but focused right now.
They say patience is a virtue.
They are fucking wrong.
Because nothing that keeps me away from my woman can ever be right or virtuous.
* * *
Estella
My hands wrap around the steaming mug as I sit at the table with the Dark Four surrounding me, after finishing up my story. My eyes hurt from all the crying, and tissues are scattered around the floor, but dread fills me at the prospect of facing their wrath.
Especially my brother’s, since I just said I slept with my professor, even though he asked me not to date.
Octavius occupies the chair opposite me, his fingers drumming on the table as if he’s replaying my confession in his head. Remi pours himself some coffee, and Santiago hops on the counter, tossing an apple from hand to hand.
Even Florian, who always has some sarcastic remarks ready for his friends, stays silent, gazing through the window.
Wow.
I never thought the day would come when they would all be speechless.
“Interesting.” Santiago finally breaks the silence, biting the apple, and the crunching sound grates on my nerves, making me wince.
“Indeed.” Remi nods at this, taking a large sip. “Ryder MacAlister. I heard about the guy. A genius who knows stocks better than anyone and can make money out of nothing. Inspiring fucker.” He laughs. “In more ways than one.” I should have known his vigilante tendencies would be met with praise from them.
Florian pushes away from the window and leans on the chair next to Octavius. “I thought he was dead.” He rubs his chin.
“Evidently, they lied,” Octavius says, and my eyes snap to him to gauge his reaction, but his face stays indifferent, a completely blank space.
“Maybe they referred to his soul dying.” Santiago chuckles, finding the notion hilarious it seems. “He was a sacrifice kid after all.” Darkness settles over his face momentarily, flashing fury so strong fear slashes through me, but he quickly masks it with his smile. “I’m impressed he survived. He had zero chances.”
Sacrifice kid?
Oh no.
My heart stills at such desperation while our conversation from our first night together pops in my head, pulling at the strings of my soul, making me question the rightness of my decisions.
Blood makes you related, not family. Trust me on that, Estella.
Maybe I should have listened to him before running away?
No.
That’s how people end up in abusive relationships, by giving endless chances to people who don’t deserve them.
Unaware about the havoc spreading inside me at their conversation, they continue as if I’m not in the room. “Maybe he doesn’t like them,” Remi supplies. “He wasn’t with them when we blew up their warehouse.” He sighs, and my eyes widen. Blew up? “Ah, good times.”
“They had it coming. Cillian doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”
Licking my dry lips, I prompt, “Warehouse?” Since I was used as collateral damage in that revenge, I’d like to know what it was about.
Although it would do little to soothe the pain within me.
God, I’m starting to sound too dramatic.
Santiago is the one to answer my question. “Cillian dared us to blow up their secret warehouse where they stored their gun supplies worth millions of dollars when we were enjoying our time in New York. The idiot bet his life we wouldn’t be able to do it.” A grin curves his mouth. “So we did just that and dragged Cillian to Chicago, since a dare is a dare.”
My jaw drops at his admission.
I should have known though. The Four Dark Horsemen do something only if it amuses them or sparks their interest.
“He worked in our club as a bouncer doing every little assignment. The prince of New York serving other people. Hilarious,” Florian elaborates, pulling the chair out and sitting on it. “After a month though, the word got out about his less-than-stellar situation, which caused all the other people to show up in our club and beat the shit out of him. Because the brother dearest wouldn’t come and save his ass.” He clacks his tongue. “What can I say? He’s a popular guy like that.”
Remi pitches in, “Jaxon couldn’t retaliate, since Cillian willingly signed up for this shit. So he started negotiating.”
“Took him months, but he promised us enough shit to give his brother back with the promise that none of his siblings will step foot in Chicago.”
“And they broke the treaty,” Florian concludes, and they all look at me while I just blink as anger slowly fuels my blood.
That’s it?
That’s the whole freaking issue they have with each other?
And based on that alone, Ryder decided to use me? Over a stupid thing his brother got himself into on his own?
Even an idiot knows never to bet with the Dark Four, because they always win.
No matter what or where, victory will always be theirs.
And why are they so calm anyway?
I expected them to at least lose their shit over me confessing all this, but my brother sits still, just listening to it all.
Where is his rage? Fury? Something!
I expected chairs flying around while doing my best to stop them from storming out to kill all the MacAlisters, and instead they just tell me stories without a care in the world.
Even to me, they are strange and unpredictable.
I glance at my brother again and notice him staring at the opposite wall, then follow his gaze but find nothing out of the ordinary.
He shares a look with Florian, a silent conversation transpiring between them, who finally nods as if agreeing.
“For sure,” Remi says, and Santiago nods this time.
Sometimes, their silent communication is really annoying.
Shaking my head from the weird surge of energy happening around me, I decide to delve deeper into the subject that is important to me. “Sacrifice kid,” I repeat, bringing their attention back to Ryder. “What does it mean?”
Another shared look, and this time my brother answers. “Alistair MacAlister, his father, loved two things in life. Power and women.” He knocks his knuckles on the table. “Being married didn’t stop him from fucking everything that moved. He pointed at women wherever he went, and they knew they would have no choice but to sleep with him.”
I gasp in horror, just imaging all the poor women subjected to such treatment.
“Yeah, he was a dick.”
Ignoring Florian, Octavius continues, “His wife didn’t care as long as it stayed out of their prestigious life. One time, a whore he visited frequently in a brothel got pregnant and decided to keep the baby. Hence Ryder coming into the world. She thought it would stop Alistair from raping her. It didn’t. He had a deep fascination for Ryder’s mom that lasted until the day she died. He was five years old.”
Oh no.
My heart goes out to the little, scared boy he used to be, who lost his mom so soon with such a horrible man as a father. He probably wasn’t welcomed there and was treated differently, growing up into a hard man who punished those who treated women badly.
An unfortunate chain of events that affected his psyche to the point of no return.
No wonder he deemed himself a Hades; he was even born in a brothel where sins ruled and all innocent souls got torn apart.
Remi chooses this moment to speak up. “Alistair couldn’t have his son on the streets, so he took him in, and of course the wife hated his guts. He wasn’t allowed to sleep
or eat in the main house, he couldn’t address Alistair without permission, and the rest of the siblings needed to stay away from him. Any act of disobedience resulted in a beating ’til he turned blue and was thrown in the basement.”
I cover my mouth in shock, my eyes watering, imagining the little boy he once was, and my brother’s hand curls on the table, reminding me that he knows well what it’s like to struggle for a breath when a monster feasts on your flesh for hours.
No wonder Ryder didn’t want to share his past.
“And then Alistair screwed up. He fucked the wrong woman. Her brother didn’t take her tears well and retaliated.” Santiago finishes his apple and throws the core in the trash. “He kidnapped Cillian, who was three at the time, and promised to make his life unbearable.”
“Alistair didn’t give a shit. All he cared about was his own ass, so he didn’t mind. However, his wife went crazy wanting to protect her kids. So she pushed him into offering Ryder instead.” I freeze at the word, and Florian elaborates, “So they struck an agreement. Alistair’s firstborn would stay with the mob for ten years, being their personal bitch—as in doing whatever the masters desired—and Cillian would be given back to them.”
“No,” I whisper, but the truth in their words has no regard for my feelings.
“So Ryder was dumped in hell, where only God knows what he was made to do, but it’s easy to guess.”
My tears stream down my cheeks while all I want to do is run to Ryder and envelop him in a tight hug to make up for all the hideous things done to him in the past. My brother doesn’t have to spell out the deeds done to him; they’re clear as day.
His various scars marring his tan skin flash in my mind, each deep and angry, telling their own story and hiding so much pain behind, leaving permanent marks on him that never let him forget what happened to him.
A man who suffered so much at such a young age… does he even have a heart to speak of?
You’re my obsession, Estella. Mine. And no one will take you away.
Goose bumps break on my skin, creating a tremor within from the words that terrify me, but right now… in light of all these admissions… somehow, they speak about his love at first sight.
Because a boy who was denied everything since a young age, even his right to live, holds on to what he wants with both his hands as a man and would need it obsessively.
Because everything he ever wanted or loved was taken away from him.
What if I misunderstood the man on the phone, his brother?
What if Ryder never intended to take revenge?
After all those bad things, would he really do something for this family of his?
All our time together, from making love to other activities in which he showered me with attention and so much warmth… could it truly all be a lie designed to use me in his plan?
Is it me being foolish and naïve, wanting to see only goodness in him… or does my heart know something my mind still refuses to see?
Octavius’s voice brings me back to present. “Yet after all this, he seduced my sister. I guess he searches for death wherever he goes.”
I grow cold at the threat lacing his voice and open my mouth to say something, although I’m not sure what.
I came back home to warn him about the danger—only, after all this truth, I no longer think my intentions were right.
I acted on emotion instead of rational thinking.
The chair scrapes against the surface, snapping me out of my stupor, and Octavius stands up.
Then he steps closer to me, palms my head, and tilts it back, placing a soft kiss on my forehead, murmuring over my skin, “Everything will be all right, Estella. I’ll fix this mess.” His voice drops dangerously low. “They will regret ever hurting what’s mine.” He gives me one more kiss and grins, although his smile reminds me more of a grimace, as it twists his cheek in an uneven way due to the scar. “Now, have some dinner and go to bed, okay?” He rubs my forehand as if wanting to remove my frown, while all I can do is stare at him in confusion.
“Okay,” I whisper back, and his thumbs run over my cheeks, his dark eyes sparkling with an emotion I cannot name. My brother has always been the source of my comfort and protection, but for the first time ever, I don’t feel better after his presence.
Instead, another fear replaces the feeling, as if I betrayed Ryder just like everyone else in his family did, and now the Four Dark Horsemen want his blood.
“Octavius—”
“It’s all right. Everyone makes mistakes. His will just have deadly consequences.” Before I can say anything else, he straightens up and addresses the rest of the guys. “Let’s go. We have a thing to attend.” He looks at me. “I won’t be home tonight.”
In synchronized motion, they all head to the terrace door, leading outside—gone as swiftly as they came—without a backward glance at me, leaving me staring in shock.
Because for all the dangerous stuff they do…for all the rules my brother inflicted on me…they reacted as if I said an insect bit me, and they are going to get medication for the bite!
He even left me alone in the house.
Maybe I overestimated how much my brother would care about my relationships? He will hash it out, since he always protects me, but he didn’t even flinch when I told him about sleeping with my professor.
Unless he already knew?
Impossible.
Antonio and Melinda, our cook, step into the kitchen grinning. “I’m cooking your favorite dish tonight. Well-done steak with mashed potatoes. You haven’t been home in a while!” She pats my cheek and then goes to the refrigerator to get the ingredients. “How do you feel about chocolate muffins for a dessert?”
“Sounds great.” In the current situation, I couldn’t care less about my upcoming dinner; my mind and heart are torn in two after all the information I’ve just discovered.
Part of me wants to run to Ryder and demand answers, to maybe find out he is worth fighting for and that all my feelings for him might have been fast, but they are valid.
The other is terrified to make a mistake again and decides to trust my weirdly acting brother, who couldn’t be more nonchalant about the whole thing if he tried.
Antonio places my phone in front of me on the table, and my eyes widen. “Henderson brought it along with your bag. Someone from college contacted him.”
“Thank you.”
I tap on the display, and it flashes, showing me low battery and an endless string of messages from the girls in our group chat.
Indeed. I canceled on the guy at the last minute and didn’t think about him at all after my sexual encounter in the library with Ryder. It helps that I haven’t seen him around at all, and with midterms, we mostly had our noses glued to our books.
I’m a horrible human being.
A laugh escapes me despite everything; their chatter serves as a healing balm over my wounded ego, broken heart, and
confused mind.
I’d love to see them now, but it’s not wise.
Besides, telling them our professor has turned out to be a famous vigilante—but that’s not why I don’t want to date him… it’s because he belongs to a mafia who wants revenge—would shock them too much.
Their replies come instantly.
Putting the phone aside, I place my elbows on the table and cover my head while squeezing my eyes closed and willing myself not to think at all.
So that’s what I do for the next couple of hours.
Eat dinner listening to our staff bitch about renovations, stroll through the garden enjoying the weather, and then finally go upstairs and take a long shower. I slip into my nightgown and pad toward my bed, finding pleasure in the moonlight brightening up my room as the owls hoot in the distance and a cold breeze dances over my skin.
We’re having one of the warmest autumns in years.
Wait.
My brows furrow when I notice my curtain billowing from my open balcony door.
I closed it before going to the shower.
And then a strong hand wraps around my throat and presses me to the wall hard, but before my scream emerges from my lungs, he covers my mouth as his chocolate eyes flash in the night.
“I told you to never run from me.”
Ryder.
Hades has come to collect his Persephone and drag her back to hell.
Chapter Eleven
“Wherever you go, I’ll find you and bring you back home to me.
Where you belong.”
Ryder
* * *
Ryder
Her gorgeous emerald eyes widen in shock at my words, her pulse speeding up under my fingers while her hot breath fans my skin. Her chest rises and falls in panic, her T-shirt stretching against the generous globes even more, begging me to touch them.
