Antidote (Beasts of Prey Book 1)

by LC Lehesaho

  He smiles and keeps fucking me with this slow pace. My entire body shivers from the inside out, and when I feel him getting closer to his release, I can't hold on any longer. An elongated cry of pleasure, including his name and prayers to God, rises from my throat as I come, kicking him over the edge with me.

  His entire body quivers as he fills me up with a low, vibrating groan.

  As I watch him taking support from the front seat with one hand—the corded muscles on his arm shimmering with sweat—and another one hugging my leg over his shoulder, I know that I made the right call.

  Finally.

  Tiger's been waiting for me for years.

  I've been too scared to answer his call.

  But it's always been us.

  Tiger is my everything, and if I don't stand my ground for him, then I might as well be dead. I will fight for what I love.

  I am my father's daughter, after all.

  "It's me," I say, knocking on the door again because I'm not getting an answer. "I have breakfast. Please, watch cartoons with me, Anthony."

  Seconds pass before I hear footsteps from the other side. The door opens, only a little, and two dark wells stare back at me. I swallow, keeping the smile on my face.

  "See, Frosted Flakes." I lift the tray with two bowls, cereal, and milk. Cajoling him to let me in.

  "Y-you alone?" he says in a raspy tone, way raspier than a fifteen-year-old boy should have. It's not the same way my brothers' voices break, this is something else, but I don't dare ask what.

  I nod. "Yeah, just me."

  The door closes, and I hear the safety lock opening, which Dad installed himself the day he brought Anthony home. Two months ago. He still hasn't stepped out of this room, even though he has free will to do whatever he wants.

  So... I come here every day. If he doesn't come to me, I'll go to him.

  The door opens up, only a couple of inches. I know Anthony is not behind it anymore. I push it open, slowly, and know better than to look at him yet. He doesn't like it—I can sense it from him. The way he sinks into his hoodie; wraps his arms around himself and looks around like he’s looking for a way out is a clear sign.

  So, I'll just close the door behind me with my butt and walk to the light gray couch, placing the tray on the coffee table. I turn the TV on, picking Ducktales for us and sink to the other end of the couch, crossing my legs in front of me.

  From the corner of my eye, I see him standing beside the dresser, arms crossed over his chest again. His dark eyes are watching me under the hood of his black hoodie, but like always, he doesn't say a word. Not yet.

  Yesterday the time was sixteen minutes, a speed record so far, but on the first days he actually let me in, he didn't speak. On the fifth day, he talked to me after I had sat here for two hours and twenty-three minutes.

  But that is the reason why I don't pour the cereal right away, it gets soft before he comes to eat.

  There are paintings all over the room, sketches made with charcoal, some of them made with a black marker. They're all extremely beautiful in their own way, but... all of them make my chest tighten because of their darkness. Dad has taken me on 'cases' with him, so I've seen death, but... these are dark, even for me.

  I think it's his way of coping.

  Whatever it is he is coping with.

  I've only seen one mark, the scar from a rope or something, on his neck from under the hoodie, but something tells me that's not the only mark on him. No one else has seen anything either, because Dad and I are the only ones he lets in.

  Scooping the cereal in my mouth, I keep my eyes on the TV, but I see him taking a step closer. Then another.

  I pull the new pack of charcoals from the pocket of my flannel pants. "Here. I thought you might need more." I place them on the couch next to me without looking at him.

  Anthony stays quiet.

  But then... "T-thank you."

  My heart swells in my chest. "You're welcome."

  Takes a couple more minutes until he moves next to the couch. I place my bowl on the table and make him a bowl too, handing it to him. Anthony takes it and slowly sits on the other end of the couch. We eat in silence for a moment until he speaks.

  "Your Dad said that..." he swallows like speaking is somehow hurting his throat. "I need to choose a new name."

  Like always at this point, when he gets to the couch, the stuttering has ended.

  "Oh, yeah? What do you have in mind?" I ask, all casually, and scoop more cereal into my mouth.

  "Nothing."

  A giggle escapes from me. "That's a start."

  He falls quiet again, but I'm not concerned. It happens all the time.

  The series changes on the TV and the silence lingers longer between us.

  "Cobra," Anthony says, just loud enough for me to hear it.

  "Yeah?"

  "Can you help me with it?"

  My smile widens. "I'd like to." I slowly turn my eyes to meet his because I know he's watching me. "Would you like to have a name like ours?"

  His stunningly beautiful eyes narrow with an unspoken question, so I continue. "We're all beasts."

  Anthony thinks about it for a second before nodding.

  "Okay, let me think." I look around the room, going through names in my head. My searching stops when the cereal package catches my eye. "Has anyone ever called you Tony?"

  "Yeah."

  I look at him. "I think you should be Tiger."

  He does something I've never seen him do before. He smiles. A genuine smile spreads across his face, forming cute dimples in his cheeks, and it's the most captivating thing I've ever seen.

  I think I'm in love.

  42

  "Baby, wake up."

  I jolt awake from the whisper, panic hitting my system, but steady arms won't let me budge. Instead, they keep me against a muscular chest even tighter.

  "Shh, it's me," Tiger's voice comes straight to my ear. "Navarro came home."

  Squinting my eyes, I realize that... "What the hell? Did I fall asleep?"

  I push myself up more, and this time he lets me but keeps his arms around me. I'm sitting on his lap in the back seat, where we stayed snuggling and talking after getting dressed. There's a smile playing on Tiger's lips when I turn my eyes to him. "Yeah, but it's okay. I've been awake the entire time."

  "How long did I sleep?" I look around, but it's dark outside, so there is not much to see. What I do see, though, is the lights inside Navarro's house.

  "About four hours. There’s a chance that when I get out of this car, I might land face-first on the ground 'cause my legs feel kinda numb." He grins, pulling me closer and kisses my neck.

  My skin tingles, and butterflies flap their delicate wings in my belly. "You should've just moved me next to you."

  "And not hold you? Negative."

  "Whatever. So, he's back, huh? Took long enough." I focus my gaze on the house. "Let's go before he realizes the dog is missing."

  I jump out, my body slightly sore, but energized. Tiger follows me, flexing his muscles. "Hey, not so bad, I can still move."

  "Amazing, yes, but can we go?" I wave my hand toward the house, impatiently. I’d already put my blades and gun on me before my surprise naptime, but Tiger is doing it now.

  "I need to take a leak, just a sec." He unzips his pants, turning to the ditch beside the car.

  "Seriously, now?"

  He gives me a blank look over his shoulder while at it. "You pressed on my bladder for almost four hours, baby. Yes, the time is now."

  "Christ," I sigh and take out my gun, checking it and keeping it in my hand. I'm going to need it, that's for sure. Doesn’t take long until Tiger appears next to me, his gun in his hand.

  "Cobra," his voice is just a whisper, drawing my eyes to his.

  "Yeah?"

  Tiger moves in front of me and cups my cheek in one hand, gun in the other. "Don't take risks, baby. I can't lose you."

  My heart melts in my chest from the way he looks at me. L
ike I'm the only thing in the entire world he cares about. I lift to my toes, taking hold of his firm shoulder and placing a gentle kiss to his velvety lips. "I can't lose you either. I love you so fucking much, and I'll never let you go."

  "You know how long I've been waiting for you to say those words to me?" He touches the tip of my nose with his lips, placing a tiny kiss on it. "So fucking long that I almost lost hope. You're my everything, Cobra."

  "Vice versa." I smirk at him, nodding toward the house. "Let's go to work, my kitty."

  "Aye, aye, little worm," Tiger counters and pulls up my skull bandana, caressing my cheek as he does. All that gentleness flies out of the window when he slaps my ass as we turn to go. Probably leaving a big red handprint there—exactly how I like it. But only from him.

  I love my kitty with his claws.

  We cross the empty road, and there's the Audi parked in Navarro's driveway, the license plate number matching his. The shed is still locked, and there's no dog around, so it must be still there where I put it. From the corner of my eye, I can see Tiger's body tense, broad shoulders rigid under the hoodie, and holding the gun now with both hands in front of him.

  I keep my gun in one hand, pulling a blade with the other, and wink at him before leaving to go around the house. There's a back door that I located earlier, so if the fucker tries to flee, he has another thing coming.

  Tiger goes straight to the front door, and I pray to God he won't get himself shot. His boldness isn't always very healthy. Hot as fuck, but healthy? No.

  I focus my mind as I jog to the back without a sound. My heart rate is racing, adrenaline kicking in, but it doesn't distract me. I'm a master at handling the rush. It's my playing field, always has been.

  When I get next to the big windows which reveal a view to his living room—connected straight to his foyer—I hear a loud thud and glass breaking from the inside.

  Please, God, let Tiger be okay.

  Sweat breaking out of my pores, I peek in and blow out a relieved sigh. Navarro is on the floor, lifting himself to his knees, and Tiger's gun is pointed at his head.

  Tiger's gaze finds me as I walk past the windows to the back door and break the glass with my grip of my gun. The glass shatters to the floor, and Navarro's head spins around to look at me with wide eyes as I step inside.

  "What took you so long to get home, Max?" I ask, closing the distance between us as I pull down my bandana. Tiger's done the same already because we don't need it for this part.

  There's blood pouring down from Navarro's temple and nose, and he keeps his palms up in surrender as if staying on his knees isn't enough. My appearance doesn't make people so easily compliant, but Tiger's? The cruel gleam in his eyes makes most people want to crawl in front of him. His awe-inspiring frame is the period in the sentence I will tear you apart piece by piece.

  Navarro doesn't say anything, only ping-pongs his gaze between Tiger and me. He really should say something because I asked a question. I crouch down beside Tiger, his leg brushing my side, and I place my gun under Navarro's jaw, bringing my blade to his face.

  I brush an escaped strand of his mohawk from his face with it, softly enough that it doesn’t draw blood, yet.

  The thing is that no one hurts our family and lives. It's one thing each and every one of us siblings hold on to, even Puma.

  Try to mess with our business—you might live.

  Make it personal?

  You will fucking die.

  Navarro's body trembles, his jaw tight from the fear that leaks out of his eyes.

  "Max, do you like pain?" I ask him, sliding my blade down his cheek.

  "N-no..." His voice shakes, and he glances at the clock on the wall.

  My spine tingles. Something is wrong. Pressing the blade under his right eye, letting it sink in a little, I feel my anger blossoming from my core.

  "Why did you check the clock?"

  Navarro opens his mouth, but the sound of a car comes from the driveway, stopping his answer. Tiger spins around, and relief flashes on Navarro's face. Not good. Without giving it a single thought, I slash his throat open and jump up to Tiger's side.

  My heart is beating so hard that I can hardly hear the gurgling sound Navarro is making behind us. We've been set up.

  "Fuck," Tiger growls, and I can see he's thinking as fast as I am.

  "Let's go out ba—" My voice cuts off when a figure appears in the doorframe.

  "Cobra? What—" Luke slaps his hand to his mouth, bending over, and starts to gag.

  "What the fuck is going on?" Tiger keeps his gun pointed at Luke, eyes on mine. My mind is completely blank. He nods toward Luke. "Is he in on it?" At that realization, Tiger takes a couple of long strides and grabs Luke by the throat just when he straightens up, eyes wide as he stares at the body.

  Tiger shoves Luke against the wall with a big bang, gun pressed to his forehead. "Better start talking before I pull the fucking trigger, you son of a bitch."

  "Oi, Jesus Christ," Luke gasps. "I-I don't know w-what you want me t-to say..."

  "The fucking truth. Who the fuck sent you here and who are you working for?" Tiger's biceps bulge as he tightens his grip around Luke's throat, and his face starts to get color back. Because he's about to choke.

  "Tiger…" I step closer, mind buzzing, and unable to comprehend what's happening. Still, I know that he's about to kill Luke.

  He will kill Luke.

  I hurry to them, taking hold of Tiger's arm, the one with the gun. "Let him go, Tiger."

  He doesn't.

  Instead, he puts more pressure on Luke, gripping his fingers tighter around his throat. Luke's hand flies to Tiger's arm, mouth open, and wide eyes watering from the lack of air.

  "STOP IT!" I yell at Tiger, not daring to shove him away because of the gun against Luke's head. One wrong move…

  "Explain, or you're dead in about twenty seconds." Tiger's fierce eyes are locked on Luke.

  "Tiger, please, let him go," I plead with him, my heart pounding out of my chest. "I beg you, don't kill him."

  Luke can't speak, and Tiger knows it. It's the only reason he loosens his hold, letting him gasp for air.

  "I-I got a message from Cobra." He coughs, eyes flying between Tiger and me.

  "Baby?" Tiger says in a cold tone.

  "I haven't sent anything. Oh, my God," I gasp when the realization hits me, and I swing my eyes to Tiger. "We need to leave, right fucking now."

  He drops his hands from Luke, grabs my hand instead, and pulls me to the front door. I take hold of Luke's arm, dragging him with us. He doesn't resist even a little bit, probably shocked to the bone.

  "I didn't text you," I tell him over my shoulder. "Someone is setting us—"

  Tiger stops dead in front of me when we step to the porch. A set of bright lights flash on in the dark night, putting us in a spotlight.

  "Oh, holy fucking shit," I gasp, stepping to his side, but Tiger pushes me to his back, shielding me.

  The entire yard is full of armed men, every one of them pointing their guns at us. All we can see are black figures—the lights coming from the two cars at their back creating silhouettes—but I know that we're the target. My pulse picks up speed, my emotions going back and forth as I try to get a hold of myself.

  Keep your fucking shit together.

  This is not the time to start panicking.

  We don't fucking panic.

  "Stay behind me," I whisper to Luke, letting go of his hand and then I slide them to Tiger's back instead—under his hoodie. "Tiger." I place my hands on the two grenades on his belt, ready to take action. "What do you want to do?"

  "I... fuck," he says under his breath, probably counting every man in the yard. "Okay, baby. Ten and two o'clock, forty feet. Count."

  I press my forehead to his back, taking a deep breath. We've done this once before, but not with two grenades. Not with this many guns pointed at us.

  Just when I'm about to pull the cotters out, I feel something you never want to fe
el—a barrel of a gun at the back of my head.

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, darling."

  43

  My heart jumps to my throat as the icy chills rush down my spine.

  This can't be happening.

  "Step back, and don't even think about doing anything reckless." Luke's smooth voice comes from my back, and I do as told, lifting my palms, shocked to the bone.

  Tiger looks over his shoulder, rage radiating out of him in waves.

  "I will kill you." He stares past me to Luke, who is pointing a gun to my head. "I will fucking. Kill. You."

  Luke's bouncy laugh fills the air, dripping now with sarcasm. "I gave you many chances, but you didn't take them. Feeling stupid now, huh, fucker? I should get a bloody Oscar for my acting skills. I swear, all the times you listened to everyone else, obeyed rules, and didn't kill me, those will haunt you for the rest of your life. And each and every one of those times is a score for me."

  My head is spinning, unable to understand what is going on.

  "Take their guns," Luke commands someone else, and another guy, dressed like a fucking commando, starts to search my body, taking every blade and gun I have on me. Another G.I. Joe does the same to Tiger, and he literally shakes with anger. Then I get a poke from the gun at my head. "Get on your fucking knees, both of you."

  Tiger's jaw is ticking as he keeps staring at Luke, not moving even an inch, and I know he is going through different scenarios in his mind to get us out of here.

  I'm too shocked to think.

  "Now," Luke snarls. "Or I'll shoot her brain all over your fucking face, tough guy."

  I follow Tiger's example, and after we drop to our knees—side by side—I try to get my head together.

  Luke circles in front of us, and from what I had time to count, there are at least two guys behind us and over ten in front. I focus on Luke's face, while he grins at me—looking nothing like himself. The usual softness of his features has changed to malice.

  "What the fuck is going on here, Luke?" I ask him, still unable to believe that he... my chest tightens. This can't be happening.