Believe In Us (Servite Academy #3)

Chapter 2

Chapter

Two

BASS

One Month Later

The moment he summoned me, on a day other than our scheduled weekly meetings, I should have known something was wrong. It was stupid of me not to realize that he was planning something, scheming in his usual manipulative way. Though I could have never guessed things would go this far. However, I underestimated what he’s capable of.

I drove out to my father’s estate, my knuckles white from how tightly my fingers were gripping the steering wheel, my mind blurring with ire as I mentally prepared myself for what was to happen tonight, just like it does every time we meet. Why would this time be any different?

I was already overcome with rage and I hadn’t even stepped foot in my childhood home, but that’s what being in the same room with my old man does to me, because Stephan Silver is anything but a doting father.

To my father I am nothing but a vile of his own blood, the prodigy that will continue his bloodline and unfortunately for me, being his only child, I have no choice in the matter. He’s made sure of that. To the Silver’s there is only one thing that holds importance in life. Legacy . You are only as important as the mark you leave in this world, and so far every Silver man before me has left an irreplaceable, permanent, and tainted stain. A flaming, iron brand of sorts.

Regardless of what happens, tonight, without hesitation, I’ll be getting blackout drunk like I do every night after my meetings with him, Thursday or not. God I fucking hate these forced reunions, but not as much as I hate the man that demands them.

My footsteps echo through the hallway of my father’s estate. It reeks of entitlement, malice lurking in every corner, the threat of everlasting misfortune looming over those who dare enter the threshold. Nothing good has come from setting foot in this house. It’s why I left as soon as I was old enough to move into the boarding rooms at the academy. Then as seniors we moved into Ace’s beach house preferring privacy and anonymity, well as much as we can get being who we are. Yet every week I’m forced to step foot here, to meet with my father away from Wesley Servite’s influence.

Wesley has been at the helm of our cause for as long as I could remember. Why he was chosen and not his older brother Warren, or my father, or even the mayor Malcolm Smoak, I have no fucking clue. The youngest of the four men, is sitting comfortably in his iron throne, yet this game is so much more dangerous. Here they don’t fight for power or prominence, nor for wealth or control. Their game is one of chess; kings, knights, and pawns. Only here, there is no Queen, at least not one that doesn’t serve a dispensable purpose, for those are the only welcome into the patriarchy .

In this dangerous game of chess my father and his associates play, there are different ranks, various positions that must be given in exchange for loyalty. The kings sit upon the highest points keeping watch on the actions of those stuck in the gilded cages they had built, each in their own way the ones who hold all the power. The knights are those who serve, protect, and relinquish their power to the cause.

My best friends, my brothers, and I, we’re the knights, those who work tirelessly to be accepted and to show our dedication to our future.

It’s why we were brought into this world, to continue our families' legacies. Those at the top only stay in power one of three ways—out of respect, out of loyalty, or out of fear—and it was always our job to ensure it was out of fear. Things were different just a few months ago, we never once would have questioned any of it. We simply would have continued to serve, to demonstrate our dedication and ensure our purpose was served, although at the time we didn’t even utterly understand what it meant.

However, now we can see it for what it really is, I see us four for what we’ve become. Pawns . Puppets on strings being played, manipulated, all with the bogus ideals that have been drilled into our heads.

Loyalty. Obedience. Silence.

The fearless follow, the restrained become soldiers, the cruel, well their purpose is best served as kings. That’s what we needed to be, so that’s what we became. Only in the last few weeks, ever since a pair of unapologetically rebellious and reckless sisters appeared on our doorstep, it’s become clear things aren’t what they always seemed.

Now she’s all I can think about, she’s all I want, all I need, and for someone who has never indulged in the decadent yet forbidden fruit, that’s one hell of a dangerous thing.

“I told you he’d be here,” my father says from behind me as he enters his study, breaking me out of my daze. “My son is ever so punctual.”

High ceilings, bare walls, and large double framed windows surround me as I stare out into the yard ahead. A large black wood desk sits at the far end of the room with antique bookcases lining the walls. Portraits of the Silver men, generations among generations of our selective bloodline, hang upon the far-right wall, their eerie silver-eyed gazes watching me, judging me, threatening me. God I fucking hate this room. It’s nothing but a reminder of what I’ve been cursed with, the burden I carry with me every second of the day, and where everything bad has happened to me. It’s where I received my first broken arm, where every week I gain either a black eye or a gash along my back. Where week after week I’m introduced to yet another immoral scheme my father and his associates have cooked up.

Never a dull moment in this room. Fuck if these walls could talk.

“You’re right Stephan, he is indeed the most compliant of the bunch,” another voice calls out from behind me. I turn and come face to face with my father and an unlikely face. Thomas Carlyle, diamond mogul, billionaire businessman, and the world largest fucking bigot. A racist, homophobic conservative, and the most entitled prick ever to have existed.

He stands in his usual my shit doesn’t fucking stink stance, and his blond hair cut short in a typical I spent twenty plus years in the military style . Out of all my father’s associates, this man is truly spiteful.

“To what do I owe the pleasure gentleman?” I scoff, faking my best impression of someone who gives a shit.

“Ever so polite son, it is obvious your father has raised you well,” Carlyle mutters, as he steps toward where I stand beside my father’s desk.

“Obviously,” I mock, my comment coated in sarcasm, but either the old fuck doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it. My father however, makes it clear to me he’s unimpressed.

“My pride and joy,” my father says, as he walks over to the wet bar located to the right, pouring us each a glass of his prized Macallan Single Malt Whiskey, handing Thomas a glass but leaving mine upon the table for me to grab myself. Ever the gentleman. “He’s had a few hiccups in recent times but nothing that won't be settled.”

The look in my father’s eyes is one of warning. Don’t fuck this up. Whatever this meeting with Thomas Carlyle is about, it’s of importance to him, which only gives me more of an incentive to fuck things up. “Yes well my father is capable of making sure I walk a straight line in his very own footsteps.”

“How I wish I would have had a son, to mold, to ensure my family legacy and livelihood continue.” Carlyle drops back into the leather chair across from my father who has now moved to sit behind his desk. He reaches into the top left drawer, pulling out a box of his favorite Cuban cigars and offers one to Carlyle who immediately takes the lit cigar and brings it to his lips. “I was however burdened with a daughter, one who’s only legacy is spending all of her dear daddy's money.”

Well I guess he’s not wrong there. Suddenly, the door of my father’s study is abruptly swung open revealing a petite framed blond, dashingly dressed in a long, dark green gown with a low-cut neckline and a high slit that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her golden blonde hair is curled in loose curls that fall like a blanket of sunshine over her bare shoulders.

“Speaking of the devil,” I murmur, under my breath.

“You do remember my daughter Kinsley,” Carlyle says, as the cheating bitch waltzes in the room, with her perfect devil may care attitude. The privileged brat settles beside her father, sitting upon the arm of his chair, revealing the smooth skin of her legs under the dress. I notice my father can’t help but look down at her legs crossed over one another. Fucking perv. She’s young enough to be his daughter. Kinsley notices, as she settles in hiking her dress further up as she tauntingly looks up at me. Her gaze remains glued to mine as she tries and fails to give me her most seductive smile. It might have done it for me once before, actually more than once, but now, all she does is make me sick.

Kins and I had something going on once, we were on and off for almost two years, and surprisingly things weren’t horrible. Sure she was needy, jealous, and always insecure, but I mean she had reasons too. I never claimed to be hers, never accepted to be her boyfriend or entered a monogamous relationship with her. However, I always laid things out in the open, letting her know there was no way I’d enter a relationship in high school. Everyone knew it, I was a certified playboy, a manwhore if you must, and that’s exactly how I planned to keep it. Until one day I tired out of her incessant whining and gave in. We lasted all of six months before she went and ruined it. I stayed faithful in those six months, remained monogamous, yet she’s the one who went and fucking cheated, therefore ruining her chances with me.

So when it comes to Kinsley Carlyle, that ship has fucking sailed, crashed, and sunk to the deepest part of the ocean. For good.

“Sad to say I do,” I reply, causing both their grins to dissipate.

I can see the look of disbelief in her father’s eyes as he watches me meticulously. “Mind your manners boy,” Carlyle sneers, his daughter feigning offense beside him. It’s fucking hilarious and I don’t hold in my mocking laugh.

“You mind your tone with me Carlyle,” I growl in response, going back to my usual sour mood. I know my father might retaliate against me later for my lack of respect for his friend , but I'm sure he was planning on doing so anyway. One thing I know for a fact, he won’t dare strike me in front of him. Appearances are everything in the Silver household, and I may be beaten for this offense when the room has cleared, but right now, my father will act like my impertinent response was his idea. “Might I remind you it was I who gave your daughter the chance she so desperately begged for, only to find she preferred having another’s dick shoved in her loose little cunt.”

“You son of a bitch,” he shouts, but my father is quick to step forward and put a stop to his pettiness.

“Don’t you dare Thomas, my son speaks nothing but the truth. However, he also understands that the Silver men are all about offering second chances, and understanding we sometimes make brash decisions, make mistakes in the heat of the moment.”

I scoff at my father’s attempt to diffuse the situation. Of course he uses this opportunity to make me once again be the one in the wrong. She cheated on me, not to mention shunned my cousin Stella for being the one who confessed to me what she’d done. I admit I never did anything to right that wrong against Stella, but she’s better off being excommunicated from this world .

“It’s okay Daddy,” Kins says, in a perfectly practiced tone. “Sebastian and I need time to work things out.”

What the fuck? This bitch must be out of her mind.

“Thomas, your daughter is right. Let’s clear the room and allow the children some time to hash things out.” Carlyle nods following my father who leads him toward the door of his study. “I’ve been meaning to show you the new Porsche Panamera I purchased to gift my niece for her eighteenth birthday.” I hear my father mutter before they exit, closing the door behind them, and leaving me in the room with the treacherous harpy.

“Well, looks like it’s just us two now,” she says coyly, standing and moving to where I am now standing beside the bar. I grab the glass of bourbon he left for me, trying my hardest to ignore her loud sighs coming from behind me. “I’ve missed you Sebastian,” she murmurs, yet my name coming from her mouth makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Not in a good way.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” I growl, turning and stepping into her, pushing her back until she is flat against the bookcase behind her. My body towers over here, her stature shorter than Jade’s but in these heels she’s just a foot shorter than me. The fear I was hoping to instill in her isn’t present in her gaze, instead I can see a glimmer of desire sparkling in her clear blue eyes. Well this fucking backfired.

I feel her hand press against my chest, her finger trailing the lettering of my T-shirt that reads FUCK ME OR FUCK OFF. Wrong shirt to wear today. “That’s your name,” she coos.

I grip her wrist pressing her hand further against me, her finger painfully bending backwards. She winces as she tries, and fails, to pull away. “Not for you to use, you can call me Bass if you insist on speaking to me.”

“You’re a fucking asshole,” she scoffs, as I release her making her stumble back slightly.

“Tell me something I don’t fucking know sweetheart.” I turn and walk away, leaving her standing there with a look of shock etched onto her face, heading over to the chair behind my father’s desk, I fall back onto it with a loud thud. Kins slowly makes her way over to me, her steps echoing against the dark hardwood as she approaches. Of course she doesn’t sit on the chair across from me but instead walks all the way over until her ass is leaning against the desk in front of me, angling to reveal her leg under the slit of her dress which opens further as her legs cross.

It’s fucking pathetic how hard she’s trying to impress me, making a damn fool of herself in every way. She’s dangling herself at me like a piece of meat. Little does she know, I have no interest in taking a bite. Kins just doesn’t do it for me anymore. I’ve found something better, someone who drives me out of my fucking mind with her sexy as fuck body, smart ass mouth, and sharp little tongue. She’s a dangerous combination of nymph and goddess. Despite what women may think, men don’t find it attractive for women to put themselves out there, laid out on a silver platter ready to let us consume and devour. It’s desperate and a fucking turnoff, although, if this is what she wants, who’s to say I can’t play along .

I glance at the bare skin teasing me, as I run my index finger from the buckle of her high heel tied around her ankle, up to the edge of the slit right above her mid-thigh. Her skin is covered in goosebumps by the time my finger reaches the top of her thigh, her tongue coming out to lick her lips and I swear she fucking trembles. A chuckle escapes me at the predictableness of her reaction.

“You want to know why you’re here, Kins?” I murmur sitting up to meet her stare. She’s just about my height now as she sits atop the desk and I in my father’s chair. “For some fucking reason, my father thinks he can use you to get me to comply with whatever idiotic request he has cooked up. He thinks, they think, that having you flaunt that little ass around in this, surely three-thousand-dollar dress, will make me do as they say.” I stand up, hovering over her until her back is nearly flat against the desk, her elbows coming up to hold herself in place. Instantly her legs fall open and I take the opportunity to settle in between them making a point to spread them further apart. “What they don’t know is that I’ve had a taste, quite a few actually, and it disgusts me. Just the thought makes me sick to my fucking stomach.”

I hear her gasp in shock at my brashness as I straighten up and I walk away leaving her there wanting and turned into the needy little bitch she wants to play, panting and positively soaking wet. I can’t hold back my laugh at the memory of the appalled look that flashed across her face. I’m almost halfway to the door when I hear her, her comment making me stop in my tracks. “You won’t have a choice in the matter once everything is said and done.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I snarl, angrily turning to face her. She’s standing now, leaning against the opposite side of the desk. Gone is the look of alarm and in its place a smug, cheshire like grin.

“It means you better start getting used to me being around Sebastian, because I’m here to stay, and there’s not a damn thing you or that little slut you like to keep hidden under your bed, can do about it.”

“Absolutely fucking not!” I shout out, slamming my fist into the wall, leaving a fist sized hole in the antique wallpaper.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you speak to me you ungrateful bastard.” My father wastes no time slamming his fist into my jaw. The pain however is dulled by the rage coursing like venom through my veins. He must be out of his ever-loving mind.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time father. Out of all the idiotic schemes you’ve concocted, of all the fucked-up shit you’ve convinced me to do, this—” I chuckle sardonically. “There’s no fucking way.” My rage quickly transforms into relentless despair as he crosses the threshold locking the door of his study, my only escape, before waltzing back toward me. Slowly, he removes his suit jacket, unbuttoning the cuffs of his perfectly ironed white shirt, and rolling the long sleeves up above his elbows. This is it, the moment I’ve been dreading, more like expecting. The sadistic son of a bitch is about to get off on instilling fear and pain into his most prized possession.

Instinctively I remove my shirt, turning away from the hateful bastard. It should scare me that I feel it before it happens, like something ingrained in my brain preparing my body to go into shock in order to survive the ordeal. I’d like to say I’m desensitized to it all after enduring so much over the last seven years of my life, but that would be a cop out. One, two, three, four. Four times today, less than the usual ten, but more than I can bear. He must be in a hurry. I can feel the blood dripping down my skin, but the usual burn isn’t there today.

Well, what do you know, maybe it’s finally happened, maybe I have indeed become desensitized to the pain. Either that or I’ve finally accepted the fact it’s never bothered me because I need it to feel alive. I need the ache, the burn, the feeling of helplessness to feel like I am not just a ghostly vessel. There is something inside, something that goes far beyond what I could have ever imagined. I’ve always known there lived a monster within me, a dark and lonely creature that fed off of the fear that once was there before turning it into rage. Rage has always been the one feeling I’ve been able to experience, maybe because it’s the strongest one of all.

Though now I know that there's something else buried deep inside, something creeping up in the darkness, trying to make itself known. I can’t quite figure out what this new feeling is, though there is only one instance where it demands to make itself known.

And it happens to be when I’m with her.