Systematic Siege #4 (Siege Serial)

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  “She’s not.”

  “So she’s yours then?”

  I bristle at that and my mouth flies open to deny it.

  “It goes beyond that,” is Andrew’s serious response.

  I swear to God, I almost fall off this chair.

  Did he . . . did this asshole just claim me?

  Asad waves a hand dismissively, expression good-natured. “Point taken. As I said, I didn’t know.” He doesn’t even seem phased by the threat pouring off Andrew. Motioning with his head to Andrew’s office, he says, “Shall we proceed?”

  And with that, they both walk inside, the glass wall automatically sliding shut behind them.

  I can’t rip my eyes away from Andrew. Fury strangles me. Helplessness.

  Terror.

  He wants to own me just as much as Stephen did.

  He’s the only man capable of giving me pleasure.

  No matter what Stephen did, he never owned me. He broke me. Trapped me. Choked me with the far reach of his leash, but I never let him in.

  Andrew . . .

  He’s been there. Is still there. I was never able to purge this demon out of me. Never able to bleed him out.

  And I bled. God help me, I bled.

  I decide to focus on the anger because thinking about anything else will break my already cracked mind. Once his meeting is over, I’m going to force him to understand.

  I’m not his. Fuck what my body has to say about it, I have my free will. I fought hard to break free of Stephen so I could exercise it again, and I’ll be damned if Andrew comes along and tries to take that from me.

  Turning back to my screen, I busy myself contacting the HR department and asking them to start a search for an assistant. I make it clear that I need to have someone hired by tomorrow, latest.

  Yes. I know. It’s short notice, but there’s no time. The faster we bring down Stephen, the faster I can escape Andrew.

  He’ll never let you go.

  I break out in a cold sweat.

  Ignoring it, I log onto my personal email, making sure to encrypt the connection.

  There’s an unread email at the very top of my inbox. One that ends my entire world.

  I know that email address anywhere. Of course I would.

  SMenahan@Menahanindustries.com

  Don’t open it. Ignore it. It’s not the first time he’s reached out to me since I left. Not the first email or text.

  And like every single time, the sick curiosity cannot be fought. I click open the email, shaking . . .

  I knew you love me. I’m so grateful for your surprise.

  What the fuck?

  You’re finally in. Just imagine baby. We can finally destroy him once and for all. Then we can go back to being together.

  He’s sick. So sick–

  A hand lands next to me on the desk and I jump, chair skidding back.

  It’s Andrew, and that homicidal glint is expanding in his eyes, overcoming his facial expression.

  He’s reading the email.

  I scramble to grab my mouse and shut the computer down.

  He grabs the mouse from me and yanks the keyboard closer.

  And before I know it, he’s begun typing out a response.

  54

  I’m in phenomenal fucking shape, but even I’m dying as I approach Lexi’s street. The precinct is four miles away. It took me way longer than it should have to get here.

  Damn my human legs.

  My heart is failing in my chest, the pressure of the run getting to me.

  But it isn’t just that. I know it isn’t. Something is wrong and the closer I get to her house, I can feel it.

  I hang onto the hope of seeing her face. Of explaining. Of getting through to her.

  I pray that somehow she hasn’t heard that I took the blame. All I want to do is buffer her. Explain my lie and what I’m hoping to get out of it.

  My body starts slowing, and I’m choking for breath.

  But my feet hit the pavement on the corner and I can see the two-story, white structure from here.

  I burst back into a run, full speed, Lexi’s face all I can see. Her lips all I want. Her in my arms all I need.

  I’m halfway down the block when I see it.

  The “For Sale” sign impaled on the front yard.

  I slam to a halt and my speed sends me skidding onto the street, my knees scraping through my jeans on impact.

  I don’t even feel it.

  Wh—what the fuck . . . No. That’s impossible. My eyes rise, taking in the entire house . . .

  Everything’s dark. The house seems empty.

  No. It isn’t. They live here. I just dropped Lexi off two nights ago.

  My body is useless, trembling with a weakness I’ve never felt before. It takes me two tries to get to my feet, and my legs are trembling so bad I almost can’t stay upright.

  A car pulls up next to me. “Andrew! Man, I heard you were out. Listen—”

  Finn.

  I’m already walking away from him, deadened feet stepping onto the curb.

  Somehow, that single step echoes in me. All around me. A deafening sound that confuses me. Something just happened. I don’t know what, but everything is changing around me.

  My life is never going to be the same again and I can feel the shift in my destiny.

  Fear begs me to stop. Cease moving. Take a moment to reorient myself. To come to terms with the pieces of my life that are melting away.

  “Drew! Stop, man. We have to talk.”

  I start running again, like a possessed bullet aimed at the house, and I’m on the porch in seconds.

  The porch swing is missing. The windchime that was hanging above the door. Potted plants. Welcome mat.

  I drove by here after dropping her off to make sure she got inside. I remember seeing all those things.

  “No. No. No.” I don’t even realize those frantic grunts are coming from me. Behind me, Finn calls out my name again and I hear the sound of running footsteps. Stumbling over my own feet, I approach the window.

  No shades. Darkness on the other side. Emptiness.

  A chasm breaks open inside me, a crack that quickly spreads. Shit. Something’s broken. I have enough semblance of mind to know how illogical the thought is. I’m still standing. Still breathing. Organs still functioning. Yet I hear my own voice in my head, behind the roar of my heart, begging for mercy.

  To be saved.

  Finn lands on the porch behind me. Detached, I take in the frightened, worried look he’s giving me. “Andrew. Stop for a second, okay?” His voice is shaky.

  Do I look that bad?

  Numb, that voice still begging in my head, I nudge him out of the way and approach the front door. I stop right in front of it.

  And that’s when he says it. “Lexi’s gone, Drew.”

  A loud, enraged sound reaches my ears—my foot connects with the door, sending it flying inward, flakes of wood raining down.

  “Drew!”

  I storm into the house.

  The utterly empty house.

  Finn’s words repeat themselves in my mind again. “Lexi’s gone, Drew.” That sound again. That loud roar.

  It’s me. As I drop down to my knees, my head snaps back, my mouth opening to let loose an animalistic shout. Like a spectator seeing myself from afar, I can only watch in horror as my humanity is stripped from me and I become nothing more than an injured beast.

  God, what is this? What the fuck is happening to me?

  Stupid question. I know what this is. I’ve been building up to this moment my entire, miserable life.

  The shattered boy has finally snapped.

  It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s fine. You’ll find her. Don’t fucking overreact to this.

  I won’t find her. Somehow, I know this in my fucking bones.

  Suddenly, the proof of it walks through the door. “Enough with the melodramatics, son. She’s gone. Not get your ass up before the cops arrive. There’s no doubt the neighbors called them.�
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  My head snaps around to him, I manage to growl out a single word—“You”—and then I’m off my feet, my sneakers pounding into the floor.

  He did this. Him. I know he did. He’s the reason she’s gone. HIM.

  After everything he’s done to me. All the things he’s taken from me.

  My father has a split second to realize I’m coming at him full-throttle—

  We crash through the broken doorway, straight out onto the porch.

  55

  16 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

  “What the fuck are you doing?” I whisper angrily, acutely aware that Asad’s eyes are on us. I almost reach out to yank Andrew’s arm, pull him away from the keyboard, but remind myself that touching him isn’t worth the risk.

  I’m quivering at the feel of his body heat mere inches from me. “Andrew.” My voice catches as I focus on the response he’s typing out.

  Your days of contacting her are done. Reach out to her again, and I’ll make sure the whole world finds out what you’ve done to her.

  “Stop,” I beg in a reedy whisper. “What are you thinking—”

  He hits send.

  And just like that, another part of my personal life is taken from me, yet another thing no longer under my control.

  Even worse, Andrew’s response kills any lingering iota of doubt I had.

  That man knows Stephen raped me.

  My personal email has become yet another battleground in the war between these two men.

  Stephen sends a reply almost immediately. We were together. That’s all it was. She wanted me and I wanted her. Tell me, does she know what you’ve been up to all these years?

  What?

  “Is everything alright?” Asad is standing at the glass wall, his eyes alit with morbid curiosity.

  He likes this, I notice. This man is envious of Drew for some reason and he’s loving watching him lose his composure.

  I, on the other hand, am trapped in a losing battle with impulse. My eyes flicker to Andrew, and all I want to do is get him alone and find out the truth.

  What did you do?

  What is Stephen talking about?

  God damn it. If we’re going to be partners, he has to be open with me about all of his moves. Strategically, this isn’t going to work unless we keep each other informed.

  I tell myself that’s the only reason for my desperation to know.

  Andrew straightens away from my desk and smoothes his hand down his blazer. “We’ve been handling some lowlives trying to hack into our servers for a while.”

  He sounds so calm. As if he didn’t just threaten Stephen-fucking-Menahan through my personal email account.

  As if he didn’t just imply that he’s going to let an entire world know I was sexually abused.

  Over my dead body, I think, fury rising. How could he do this to me? So, he knows what I’ve been through. No details, of course, but he knows, and he’s willing to air my shame before an entire world?

  Horrid newsline titles flash in my mind as I imagine the public scandal.

  I agreed to bring Stephen down, but not like this.

  “Ah. So you need to double check that your assistant’s email is safe.” Asad’s sarcastic disbelief is plainly evident, even though his tone is calm and understanding.

  Andrew stops before him, expression flat. “Ms. Berkman isn’t my office assistant. She’s the lead programmer for the entire company.”

  Another hit.

  Another unexpected twist.

  With sudden trepidation, I realize that this man has me reeling. Too fast. Everything’s happening too fast. I can’t keep up.

  Just like before with him. Exactly like before. Nothing but a roller coaster moving at lightspeed.

  “Your most valuable asset, then.” Asad’s eyes land on me, and his interest in me seems to have ramped up to a ridiculous degree.

  “Yes. Mine. Now do me a favor and get in the office so we can finish this. I have other important things to handle today.”

  My God. Andrew’s arrogance is on an entire other level. He has no qualms about talking to Asad as if he’s nothing.

  Asad, however, laughs. As if it’s no big deal. “You are ruthless. I knew that the moment I met you, but even I am impressed.”

  Andrew says nothing, waiting for Asad to walk back into the office. His head turns in my direction, his eyes soft.

  Is he silently fucking apologizing to me right now?

  Christ help me, this man has me all kinds of twisted, confused, and scrambled.

  He sends me one more look and the message in his eyes is clear: tell me if he contacts you again.

  I continue glaring at him. Once he’s turned his back and the glass has slid shut, I drag my keyboard to me, close down my email, and pretend I’m just getting back to work.

  In reality, I’m working my way into the company’s main servers, into the employee files. It takes me less than five minutes to get all the info I need.

  To my annoyance, there’s no personal information on Andrew. The only near personal thing I find is his cell.

  I grab mine and type out a text.

  Lexi: No more bullshit. As soon as he’s out of there, we need to talk.

  This conversation might end up doing me more harm than good, but it’s time it fucking happens. That man has to understand that he doesn’t call the shots here, I do, and he isn’t going to force me back onto his fucked-up ride.

  I can’t allow it.

  56

  15 hours before Barnard Wellington’s disappearance . . .

  By the time Asad leaves, I’m elbow-deep into lines upon lines of coding. Paul emailed the file to me over an hour ago. On top of that, HR took my request very—and I do mean, very—seriously. There’s already ten resumes of potential candidates for me to go through.

  I’ve dubbed the effect, “The roar heard around the world.” Or this building, to be exact. I haven’t even stepped into any kind of position of power here, and one man screaming my name already has people scrambling to please me.

  Ah, but that’s the Drevlow syndrome, isn’t it? There’s something about the men of that family that sets them apart. Something so off in their very DNA, that other people can sense it. Be wary of it.

  Everyone’s afraid of those monsters.

  I wonder exactly what Andrew did to prove to his employees, in search a short amount of time, that he’s also a force to be reckoned with.

  Then again, have you seen him? Everything about that man screams, I will destroy you. Get in the way of what I want, and it’ll be the end of you.

  It was always that way, but now, this new version of him . . .

  I push it out of my mind. It’s none of my fucking business what Andrew Drevlow has gone through, what it did to him, and if he’s still warped by any of it.

  He’s clearly still warped. Yeah, I saw it. Recognized the look in his eyes. I’ve been seeing it in the mirror my whole life, ever since his father drove mine to suicide. And the last few years, stuck under Stephen’s control?

  Whatever. I can’t keep thinking about this. I’ve come here to accomplish two goals:

  Get my mother the help she needs.

  Destroy Stephen.

  Everything else is irrelevant.

  I’m so absorbed in my thoughts, I nearly miss Asad’s departure.

  But that’s the thing about negative-conditioning. Once it sets in, it buries deep into your subconscious, corroding your instinctual responses.

  I spent years in the sights of a twisted predator. My skin seems to have evolved a sensory system, a way to warn me when I’m being sized up. Skin going cold, I look up from my screen.

  Asad walks by my desk on his way to the elevators. Those darks eyes violate me. Undress me. With a single look, his given away what he’s doing to me in his mind.

  There’s nothing hot or sexy about it. This man isn’t just imagining that he’s fucking me. In his fantasies, he’s breaking me.

 
; I feel raped all over again.

  He steps into the elevator, and just like that, he’s gone.

  I still can’t breathe right.

  “He even so much as looks your way again . . .”

  I jump in my seat, my head flying around.

  Andrew’s standing at the open glass wall, expression stoic, eyes brimming with that sick evil I saw before. “And I’ll kill him for it.”

  I gasp weakly. Not because of the words, or the deadened way he said them.

  He means it.

  Mother of God, he really fucking means it.

  This isn’t like before, all those years ago. He isn’t the same teenager that swore to kill his father for me. No, that boy had fear in his eyes as he’d said it. He tried to hide it, but I remember picking up on it loud and clear.

  That boy might have made up his mind to kill, but he hadn’t been ready for it.

  This man, however . . .

  The intercom on his desk goes off again. “Mr. Drevlow. Your 10:30AM is here.”

  He has no assistant yet. Well, he had no assistant until today, and apparently the reception at the lobby has been screening all his appointments and calls.

  It’s been made abundantly clear I won’t be doing any of that, therefore reception will be handling that until I hire my assistant.

  “Grab your notepad. I want you in here for this one,” Andrew says and turns to head back to his desk. “Send her up,” he says into the intercom.

  I’m still reeling from his promise of murder, but I do as he says and follow him inside.

  He leans in front of his desk again. “Lexi, I need you to look me in the eyes.”

  Taken aback, I do, and I’m struck silent by the plea I see in them. “I need you to trust me and work with me. Please, remember it’s all part of the plan.”

  “What are you—”

  Behind me, the elevator opens, and I hear the sound of heels clicking on the floor.

  I see something akin to panic flash in Andrew’s eyes. “Lexi, just go with me on this one. Show her a united front. And please, trust me.”

  “Drew, I couldn’t believe it when you called.”