by G N Wright
“Princess?” he asks, with a mixture of a smile and a frown.
“Yeah?” I reply tentatively and suddenly feel super awkward.
“As much as I enjoy hot girls throwing themselves at me, that was really fucking weird,” he says, and I burst out laughing.
“Yeah, pretty boy, sorry about that,” I wince slightly, as I pull back and find Linc, Ash, and Taylor all staring at us with varying expressions from shock, annoyance to amusement.
Jace just throws his arm around my shoulder and drops his usual kiss to my head, “Don’t sweat it, it clearly had the desired effect,” he says with a laugh, as we both turn to look at the destruction Marcus left behind.
“Let’s go home,” I say and they all nod.
Not exactly the ‘chill’ night I expected.
Chapter 14
MARCUS
Iwake up feeling sick and disorientated. Fuck knows where I am. The last thing I remember is seeing Elle kissing Jace. Fuck. I thought the images I had conjured up of her and Donovan together were bad enough, but this is so much worse. Seeing it with my own eyes fucking stirred a madness inside me. I completely lost my mind and instead of punching my own brother because I didn’t trust myself not to kill him, I punched through a window instead. Then stalked home to pick up my bike and drive it to wherever I am.
I have never been so reckless. Reckless and broken. How can you hate someone with every bone in your body but then love them with every beat of your fucking heart?
My head is so fucked up, but I am far too hungover to be able to deal with it. I sit up and rub my eyes, desperately trying to clear the ache in them, but it’s useless. That pounding feeling spreads right across my temple and round the back of my head. Fuck. I want to stay in bed, but I can’t today for one reason and one reason only. It’s my dad's anniversary.
Three years. Three fucking years since he was shot and killed by that fucking animal Elliot Donovan. Now my father was far from innocent, I am sure he had plenty of skeletons in his closet, ones I don’t even know about but as far as I am aware, he never killed an innocent man in cold blood. People who say time is a healer, talk fucking bullshit, three years and it still feels like yesterday. Time hasn’t helped me with shit.
I make my way to the bathroom in this place and attempt to flick on the light and it’s only then I remember there is no electricity, it’s probably cold as shit in here too, but my hangover is overpowering my senses. I can’t feel much else. The window allows some natural daylight to filter in, enough for me to see my reflection in the mirror. I look like shit, pure and simple. I still haven’t shaved so my usual light dust of scruff is practically a full-on beard and the circles under my eyes are almost as dark as my coal-colored hair. Grief really is a killer. Not sure if I am grieving my dad or the future I will never have with Elle, but it doesn’t matter. Both left me behind without looking back.
After taking a leak, I splash some water on my face and go back into the living room to retrieve my leather jacket and head out the door. The daylight is harsh, and I find myself wanting to turn around and go back inside to sleep some more but trying would be useless, I’m too wired. I just need to go see my dad and then maybe I should get back out of this hell hole of a town.
I climb on my bike and go on my way. The air whips past me in quick succession as I guide the bike in the direction I want to go. I love my bike, I love feeling the power beneath me, knowing just one wrong flick on my wrist could end it all. Probably a little sick to think of it like that but it keeps me on my toes. I push through ignoring the rain as it starts to fall and make my way to the gates of Hallows Cemetery.
It’s funny, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter how much money you have, where you're born, or who you're born to. When we die, all our lives amount to the same wooden box, in the same mudded hole, with the same concrete stone above us. Doesn’t matter how different we all live; we all decay the same.
I swing my leg over my bike and lean it against a picnic table next to a bunch of other cars. The rain is really fine and it's soaking me through but the cold bite of it is a welcome touch to my burning skin. I don’t bother to even look where I am going as I enter the cemetery, I don’t have to, I know the way to my dad's stone by heart. I spent every day out here for weeks after he was buried. The pain of losing him and losing Elle was something I didn’t know how to deal with, I guess considering how hungover I am right now, you could say I still don’t.
I reach his stone and release a deep breath. Looks the same as always. Beautiful, clean, and expensive. I still wonder now who paid for his funeral costs after all our funds were taken, but it's not important. Whoever it was, I will never be able to repay them.
I do my usual and head past his stone until I am round back and take a seat. His stone is so big I can easily lean my huge frame against it. Add that to the fact that he is buried around the edge of this place, it offers me the privacy to grieve in peace. I pull out a crumpled joint from my pocket and light it, inhaling deeply. Hopefully, it will numb me from the pain that pumps through my body. I don’t know how long I sit there but I must have drifted off because I don’t hear her approach and it’s clear, she doesn’t know I’m here when her voice hits my ear.
“Hey, stranger,” Elle’s sad tone pierces through the soft drizzling rain. “Sorry, it’s been a while, but I am sure you’re watching me and know what I’ve been up to,” she adds, with a little scoffed laugh.
I daren’t move, I don’t want to reveal my presence and deal with our issues today of all days. So, I remain completely still and silent. I hear a shuffle and I can tell she has moved closer to the stone.
“I know you told me not to come back here,” her voice is lower now but still perfectly clear, meaning I was right, she has moved closer, probably bent down in the mud, “I’m sorry I didn’t listen, but I couldn’t. I hope you understand. They had already taken so much from me that I was barely surviving until a heartbeat changed my life,” her voice is straining, and I can tell she is barely holding back tears.
“I wish you could meet her; she would adore you, and I know you would look out for her like you did me,” I hear her sniffles and deep inhale like she is forcing herself to keep her emotions in check. “God, you have no idea how much I wish you were here, wish you could see the things I have done, see the amazing man your son has become. Marcus, my beautiful River, you should see him, Michael. You would be so proud of him. He’s a little lost right now, and I wish I could help him more but it’s too dangerous. He already knows too much,” her voice cracks when she says my name and it takes everything in me not to move to comfort her.
“I think I could have survived if they only took from me, but then they came for you, took from him and I can’t, I just couldn’t ignore that. I’ve done things, things you wouldn't be proud of, but I don’t regret them. Every move I make is to keep my family safe, to keep her safe. I won't let them get her.”
Her statement gives me chills and starts an inferno of rage inside at the same time. What the fuck? What is she talking about? Who? Elliot? What has she done? What was taken? More questions without answers. Except the answers my brain is conjuring up make my skin crawl, no that’s not right, it can’t be. Did Elliot do something to her? No. She would have told me, right? We’re best friends, we told each other everything. She would never keep a secret that big from me, except she already has, hasn’t she? We aren’t best friends anymore. She pushed me away. No this is just more of her lies and mind games, it has to be, the alternative is too fucking sick even for someone like Elliot Donovan.
She doesn’t speak for so long that I would think she has gone but I didn’t hear her move, so I know she is still here. I can feel her like she is part of me and just as I am about to give in and go to her, she speaks again.
“Anyway,” she says, dragging out the word forcing a cheery tone to her voice that sounds so fake it almost doesn’t sound like her. “These are for you, I know orange is a weird color, but I didn’t pick them out,�
� she laughs, “but I hope you like them.”
“I’m sure he’d love them, princess,” the dark sinister voice causes my entire body to flinch, I’d know that voice anywhere.
Elliot Donovan.
I know I should move, make myself known and face him like a man. I have been waiting for an opportunity like this ever since he murdered my father. To come across him somewhere quiet and secluded like this is a rare occasion and I could use it to my advantage.
Except I have nothing but my hands as weapons and as much as I would love nothing more than to make him bleed, I also want to see how the dynamic is between him and Elle. She made her distaste clear for her parents when they came to school for her and from the little snippets of information, she allowed me it seemed as if that would extend to Elliot too. I started to think he had done something to her but then she dropped the Asher baby bomb. Now, I don’t know what to think.
It seems in this town people only speak freely when they think they are alone. So, I stay, remain quiet and pray for some of the answers I long for.
Chapter 15
ELLE
Iam soaked through but I don’t care. I have been putting off coming here ever since I came back to town. It’s like I thought once I came here and visited his grave, it finally made it official. Michael Riviera saved my life and paid the price with his own. No one will ever understand the guilt I feel because of that. Standing here now and seeing his life cut short and reduced to nothing but a fucking huge block of stone, makes that guilt even more soul crushing. Zack paid for his funeral and I wish I could have been there to say goodbye, but it was too dangerous.
Talking aloud to him feels silly but there was too much left unsaid, too much I had to tell him. I voice it out loud, said everything I wish I could say to him in person and pray to all the gods that the afterlife is real, and he can somehow hear me. Once I have nothing left to say I just grieve in silence until I am so cold that my body hurts as much as my heart, my own version of self-punishment.
When I think it’s time to go, I place the orange roses that Cass and I picked out into the empty vase. Orange makes everyone happy, she said when we bought them. I hope she is right.
I prepare myself to say goodbye, not knowing when the next time I will get a chance to come here will be, when the voice of the devil himself hits my body like a wrecking ball.
“I’m sure he’d love them, princess.”
I repress a flinch and force myself to turn around slowly and come face to face with the devil himself. Elliot Donovan. Fuck. I feel my wrist wanting to flick out the knife at my thigh for protection, but I refuse to allow him to push me back into the fear I felt that night. Besides pulling a weapon would show me as more than the girl he once kidnapped and the longer he stays in the dark about me the better.
The way he says princess is nothing like the soft affectionate way Jace says it, but more like he wanted to say whore, but is playing nice. He hasn’t changed over the years, he still has his thin blonde hair slicked back, with too much product and somehow his eyes manage to be the same blue as Asher’s, yet dark and sinister at the same time. I make quick work of checking the surrounding areas by flicking my gaze across the land to see if there is anyone else here, but I come up with nothing.
“I don’t go everywhere with an entourage, my men are fine waiting in the car,” he says cockily, clearly knowing where my line of thought just went. I mean what does he expect me to think, he put a fucking price tag on my head, dead or alive? Who the fuck knows but I won’t take any chances.
“Maybe you should, you never know who you might come across,” I reply, keeping my tone flat and uninterested.
He smirks a mocking smile like the thought of me alone doing something to him is just hilarious to him. He looks me up and down and it takes everything in me not to shudder. Remember your training Elle, remember what Zack taught you, panic will get you killed.
“It’s been a long time, Elle,” he adds, and he almost looks sad about it, like he cares. I guess he does in a way. He doesn’t care about seeing me, he cares about the pay-out he missed out on because of me.
“Not long enough, if you ask me,” I respond without missing a beat. I cannot show weakness, men like Elliot Donovan feed off of it. Catalogue it and use it to grind you down. I won’t allow him that benefit again.
“Visiting our old friend, I see,” he replies, choosing to ignore my last statement and finally breaking his appraisal of me as he cocks his brow at Michael’s headstone.
“Using the word friend, a bit loosely, I see,” I grind out through my teeth. He laughs, fucking laughs. The devil really does have a sick sense of humor, eh?
“Michael and I went way back, further than you think. He just lost his way and chose the wrong side; you know that better than anyone. He’s dead because of you, Miss King.”
Fuck, the urge to whip out my knife and gut him like the fucking vermin he is, is strong. Sure, people would notice but would anyone actually miss him? His victims sure wouldn’t and he deserves it. I don’t think anyone deserves it more, except maybe Greg. I’m biting my tongue so hard I taste blood which is fitting. Blood mixed with a Donovan, it’s practically their signature, they go hand in hand.
I ignore his obvious attempt to rile me up and stand my ground.
“What are you doing here? Michael didn’t like you and I think you know how I feel, so just turn around and leave,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster. Luckily, he doesn’t know me well enough anymore to see how much his presence is affecting me.
“Don’t be like that, we all know you're my favorite King,” he smirks a devilish smile like we are in on some joke together, in a way I guess we are. The world’s fucking sickest joke. “We could be friends?” he continues, and the way the word friends rolls off his tongue almost makes me bring up fucking bile in my throat. I know exactly the type of relationship he would want us to have and it’s far from fucking friends.
“After what you and your son did, I’d say we are beyond ever being friends, don’t you?”
“So, enemies then?” He inquires with a smile so big it could rival the Cheshire Cat.
“Enemies would require me caring enough about you,” I quip back and the lie burns on my tongue and I am sure he can sense it.
“Ah, I see. You know someone cared enough about me to burn one of my businesses to the ground,” he says, watching me for a reaction but I don’t even fucking flinch. I can’t. My life depends on it. I am far too aware that I am in the middle of a graveyard with the most dangerous man in town. Anything is possible at this point. When he sees that I am not giving him a response he takes one last look at Michael’s headstone and then tips his head at me.
“I look forward to seeing you again soon, Miss King.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will, Mr. Donovan,” I gleam at him, imagining how it would feel to plunge my knife into his gut. I watch him walk away, every second imagining the different ways I could make him bleed. Every single one of them doesn't feel like enough. Fuck.
I stand there staring after him until long after he is gone and then I take a deep breath trying to push past our interaction when another voice cuts through the wind, “That was an interesting family reunion,” Marcus' rough voice hits my ear.
I whip around and the sight of him almost breaks me, fuck he looks so bad. He looks nothing like the playful and lusting boy I was with in the alley last night. He looks like he hasn’t slept or digested anything other than alcohol and weed. Fuck. I did this to him. When am I going to stop taking things from him? Stop hurting him?
“Marcus,” my voice comes out in a raspy whisper and I don’t even know if he heard me. All the confidence I held in my interaction with Elliot has completely disappeared. Unlike Elliot, Marcus knows me so well he can practically see what's written on my bones. Or at least he could until I covered myself in lies and secrets.
“Care to shed some light on that little interaction?” he says, but my mind is blank. I have no idea
what to say to him or how to keep lying to him. I am just so tired of keeping him in the dark.
“I--” I start but he flicks his wrist, cutting me off.
“Save it,” he says, sensing the lies burning in my mouth and he starts past me to leave.
“Marcus wait---” I begin after him and he whips around.
“I did wait, Elle, for three fucking years I waited. Look where it got me!” He yells back and I don’t know what to say because he is right.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, knowing that those two words will mean nothing but what else can I say? He is right.
“For which part exactly?” He huffs a mocking laugh like he can’t believe I would have the audacity to even say it when it’s so useless.
“All of it,” I say, sadly dropping my shoulders, all of my bravado shattered, because what else can I say? Nothing more without telling him the whole truth.
He huffs out a breath and steps towards me until he is so close, I can smell his spicy scent and it wraps around me like a vice. His head drops to my shoulder and it’s like he is using me to gain some strength. I don’t know how long we stand like this, but I don't move, I can’t. If this is the last moment, I get with him then I will savor every second before he returns to hating me. When I feel him lift his head, I still remain frozen when but then his voice hits my ear again, "I’m going to find out the truth, Ells. Whatever it is, it’s the only thing that matters to me anymore.”
I squeeze my eyes closed to stop the tears gathering there from falling and I feel his presence leave me, I can’t open my eyes until I know he is gone. The last thing I see is his motorbike barrelling away from here.
Fuck, I need to get out of here, this was definitely more than I bargained for when I decided to pay Michael a visit. Lincoln is waiting in the SUV for me, no doubt he will have seen Elliot. I’m surprised he stayed away, unless he knew Marcus was here. Did he? Did he know I would be safe, or did he just think I could handle myself? It’s not like I’m not always armed, and he has seen me fend off men twice my size.
