54. 10 YEARS AGO
Chapter 54
10 YEARS AGO
Matthias
Me: Where the fuck are you?
How did Damon get out of this? As the eldest Everette brother, it should be him standing in this brain-melting tedium, not me.
Damon: Father sent me on an errand.
Me: Why didn’t he ask me?
Damon: Big bros privileges *wink*
Damon: Don’t worry. I’ll come save you from the monotony in a bit.
I grab a glass of champagne from a member of the waitstaff walking by. He doesn’t bother questioning my name, already familiar with who I am, and what station I have as one of the Lord’s sons.
Me: You better.
Not bothering to hide my boredom, I look over the crowd. We’re at one of the Volkovs’ massive estates. It has the standard marble everything, low-hanging chandeliers, and winding staircases. When I was little, I used to gawk at the high ceilings and intricate details. Now, it’s just more of the same.
Members of the Order of Saints aren’t like normal people. They’ve all been initiated into the most powerful secret society in the world. They influence policy, wars, who wins elections and who loses.
Its exclusivity makes it all the more intriguing to those on the outside. They’ll never make it in, though, because there’s only room for twenty-six families, and none of them will ever give up their spot.
To prevent chaos, the Order is split up into a hierarchy. The Unsainted, members not yet initiated. The Saints, representatives from each family, and the Lord who rules over them.
My father’s the Lord, and there’s nothing and no one more powerful than he is. The Order is filled with powerful men, but they wouldn’t make a step without his say-so. With power comes envy, and for centuries, there’s been a fight for the ruling spot. That is, until the Everette family took over and cast out any doubt on who belonged on the throne.
No matter how much of an asshole my father is, there’s a security in knowing he’s feared just as much as he’s revered.
Honey-brown hair catches my eye and draws my attention. There are at least twenty girls my age in here, all dying for a chance with the son of the Lord of the Order of Saints, so why can’t I pull away from her?
Scarlet stands beside her father, the esteemed Charles Laurent, an active Saint in the Order. He treats her like a jewel on his arm, something to show off, and she plays her role perfectly, smiles at all the right times, bows when she’s supposed to. Never too loud, too aggressive, too happy. The perfect little society darling.
It grates on my fucking nerves.
Ever since she pushed me down on the playground and kicked dirt in my face when we were children, catching glimpses of who she is underneath her perfect facade has become an addiction.
She’s a sliver buried under my skin, a constant reminder of her presence with no way to dig it out.
“Not interested in my sister, are you?” Christopher Laurent asks from directly beside me, startling the crap out of me.
“Fuck no” is my immediate response.
Interested is the wrong word. Each glimpse beneath her flawless facade has me intrigued, like she’s some sort of puzzle I can’t help but want to figure out.
“Sir Everette.” Despite the fact that it’s easy to see it grates on him, he bows his head slightly in the deference that my name commands. He’s an Unsainted, and with that, he must obey the rules we live by.
“Laurent” is my only reply.
Christopher’s gaze slides to his sister and back to me. He looks just like her—same light brown hair and soft blue eyes—but instead of being slight, he’s got at least five inches on me.
“Good, because her future is locked down.” His lips twist in a mockery of a smirk.
I hide the surprise from my face. She’s barely turned fifteen, and even in our fucked-up society, that’s young to marry off your daughter. Not only is it disgusting, but it removes them from the market for future matches.
“Who?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“No one you’d know.” Matter-of-fact, like he didn’t just admit they’re selling out his sister.
I press my palm against my sternum, an uneasy burn forming there, and take a sip of the bubbly liquid from the flute. I’m sure it’s the best quality, but it still tastes like ass to me.
I feel the weight of Christopher’s attention on me as he studies my reactions to his declaration of his sister’s future marriage.
No matter how revolting it is, there’s nothing I can say about it. Arranged marriages have always been a part of our society. I change the subject before he can catch on that I’m a little too interested in Scarlet. “You nervous about tonight?”
Christopher stiffens, his wide eyes darting around the room. He looks like an animal that’s just been caught. Not the reaction I was expecting.
“You know the Saint ritual?” I remind him.
He turned eighteen last month, and as a member of the Laurent family, he has the ability to become a Saint in the Order. Everyone knows there’s some kind of ritual, but they keep that shit under lock and key. Wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just to freak us all out.
I could’ve asked Damon, my older brother, when he went through his earlier this year, but I’m honestly not that curious. As a son of the Everette family, we’ll all be Lords instead of Saints in the Order. It all sounds like bullshit to me.
“Nah, I have it all planned out. Nothing’s going wrong,” he says, his tone a little too rigid. There’s a sharpness to his smile when he looks at me, like it’s edged with something.
I’m about to question him on it. If he really is worried about the initiation, I can call Damon and ask him what the fuck happens in that room.
“Lord Everette, it’s good to see you.” Christopher’s eyes go over my shoulder, and every one of my muscles tense as the presence of my father approaches from behind me.
“Son.” My dad’s crisp tone serves as a warning. Whatever I’m doing, he doesn’t like it, and I better figure out what the fuck the problem is before he has to explain it.
I straighten to my full height and lower my chin, hoping this is enough to appease him. “Father, how are you tonight?”
“Take care of your little brothers,” he commands, not acknowledging my question.
Xander and Bash sit on a nearby sofa, watching the crowd around them while they whisper into each other’s ears. They’re definitely plotting something, and keeping them out of trouble is the last thing I want to do.
“But…” I protest.
My father turns to me, just enough to see his sharp glare, and the temperature plummets around me. “Are you questioning me?”
A chill runs down my spine. Whatever warmth he may have possessed as my father has been annihilated by the need for respect as the Lord of the Order of Saints.
“No, sir.” I stare at my feet, not daring to look up, remembering the sharp crack of Damon’s arm breaking the last time he dared to question our father.
I brace for impact, but thankfully, he walks off in the direction of the back staircase.
Air rushes from my lungs as relief washes over me. I’m such a fucking idiot. I learned young never to back talk to men like my father.
“I better go,” Christopher says, moving to follow him.
“Good luck.”
He smiles back at me. Something in the way he looks has the hair raising on my neck.
“I told you. I’ve got this all planned out.”
I down the rest of my champagne, trying to discard a lingering unease that’s clinging to me. Something feels off about this entire night, and I just want to get the fuck home.
“Miss Laurent. You look delicious this evening.” A booming voice catches my attention, and I’m just fast enough to see Scarlet’s smile falter before she smooths it back into place. The man can’t be younger than sixty, with bushy white eyebrows and a combover that accentuates his receding hairline.
Who the fuck says that kind of thing? I’m expecting her father to step in since he hasn’t left for his son’s initiation yet, but if anything, he looks even happier.
It’s odd that I don’t recognize the man. This isn’t an open party; every member is associated with the Order in some way. The fact that there’s someone here who’s not a member doesn’t make sense, even if Mr. Laurent personally invited him.
I watch as Scarlet holds her hand out for him like she’s supposed to, but she’s paler than she was a second ago, and she visibly tenses when the man brings her fingers to his lips and leaves them there for several moments too long. She just stands there, visibly uncomfortable but not pulling away, not breaking a single society rule that tells her to obey the men around her.
I fucking hate every second of it.
The growing tension in my body doesn’t start to ease until she pulls away from him, but just before she can get her hand free, he tugs her against his chest and reaches around to grab her ass.
The crystal glass shatters in my grip, and the group breaks apart with the loud crack. I shift so my back’s to them, and Scarlet doesn’t see I’ve been watching her. I’ve sliced a line across my palm, and if I’m not fast, I’ll be leaving a trail of blood behind me.
A quick glance over my shoulder shows Scarlet has escaped, and only her father and the pervert stand in my line of sight. Mr. Laurent should be raging, bringing down the full might of the Order. God knows I’d back him up, but instead, he’s smiling and shaking the geezer’s hand. A sickening realization descends on me. This can’t be the guy Christopher was talking about. Right?
I need a fucking drink, something stronger than the bullshit being served here.
My two younger brothers are still on the sofa when I find them. I reach over Bash’s shoulder and grab the silk pocket square from his jacket. Two eleven-year-olds dressed in suits should look ridiculous, but they’ve been raised for this. Not that they aren’t more than capable of causing chaos if I don’t keep an eye on them.
“Hey. I was looking good.” Bash reaches for the silk fabric, and I lift it out of his reach, pressing it into the cut on my palm.
“I have to step out. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”
Both their heads tilt at the same time, and they give me matching grins.
Fucking Irish twins. I love them, but they can be creepy as hell.
“Just don’t move, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Of course, big bro.” They nod simultaneously with too-innocent grins.
I groan. I can’t leave them in here alone for long, or they’re likely to set something on fire.
“Be good.”
The second I get outside, I fill my lungs with the crisp night air, washing away the weight of the overly packed hall. I tuck myself behind towering evergreens to my right that provide the perfect hiding spot. The Volkovs carved out this small area for guests who want to smoke without ruining their perfect image. I’d found it when a valet disappeared behind the cover one day, but I’ve never encountered anyone in the year I’ve been coming here. I take out a black flask from the inside pocket of my jacket and twist the cap.
If there’s ever been a night I need a bit of numbness, it’s tonight.
The cool liquid burns the back of my throat as I drink it down, and I nearly choke on my cough. Thank God Damon’s not here, or I’d never hear the end of it.
I watch the parking lot through the small gap in the bushes. There’s a seemingly endless line of black luxury cars, all looking nearly identical, even though they’re different models. In a world of power, sameness has an odd hold on these people.
I swallow more whiskey, the taste swiftly morphing from a burn to a smooth warmth. It had been buried in the back of my father’s cabinet, so it probably cost a fortune. He’ll kill me if he finds out, but thankfully, I never get caught.
The door opens beside me, and I disappear deeper into the shadows. It’s only when I catch the red of Scarlet’s dress that I step out, grasping her wrist and tugging her into hiding. I cover her mouth and pin her against the wall before she can scream and keep her there, wide eyes on me, until she calms down.
“You’re not going to scream, right?” I tease, and I can’t help my smirk. There’s just something about her that brings out this side of me. Having her this close is a mistake. Her skin’s warm from dancing, and her vanilla citrus scent fills my nose. Her soft panting breath, still rapid from the scare of being dragged in here, tickles my neck, sending shivers along my back. I’ve never been this close to her, and it’s fucking with my head. I rip myself away before I do something stupid, like kiss her.
She rolls her eyes dramatically when I cross my arms, putting a semblance of a barrier between us, and whisper, “We need to stop meeting like this, or I’m going to think you’re following me.”
“You wish,” she replies without missing a beat, her voice as soft as mine, but her poised demeanor doesn’t snap back into place. Instead, her eyes travel over me, and pink covers her cheeks.
“You blushing for me, princess?”
“Have you always been this delusional?”
This isn’t the first time we’ve run into each other in a tucked-away spot, both escaping the hell that is one of these parties. I’ve given up on telling her to get lost; I never could follow through on making her. I’m almost used to it now, her presence close in a quiet space, bickering with me about nonsense.
Almost anticipate it.
I take a swig and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth. “You looked like you were having fun in there.”
Her blush vanishes, a sickening paleness taking its place, and an urge to walk back in there and beat the shit out of that old man settles into my gut. I hand her my flask. “Drink it. You look like you need it.”
She chokes on it, covering her mouth as she stifles her cough. “What the hell is that?”
I shrug and take it back, easily taking another drink. I didn’t tell her I had the same reaction minutes earlier.
“You’re so prissy.”
She ignores my comment, instead grabbing my hand that’s wrapped in silk fabric. Blood had soaked through, turning it a deep red.
“What happened to your hand?” She takes it in her delicate fingers, careful not to touch the cut.
You happened.
I yank my arm back, hoping to God she can’t see the blush crawling up the back of my neck. “None of your business.”
Like fuck I’m going to tell her I cut it just because some asshole old man touched her and made her uncomfortable.
“Another fight? You are such a delinquent.” She narrows her eyes at me, nose scrunched up, and I can’t help myself from thinking she’s adorable like this. So much better than the serene calmness she’d worn before. I press her further, wanting to see more of the fire she tries to hide.
She can pretend all she wants, but she can’t hide it from me.
“Is that what you think I am, a delinquent?”
She rips the flask from me with a huff and takes another sip. Her pink lips capture my thoughts as they wrap around the opening. This time, she doesn’t cough, giving me a small smile in triumph.
“You might want to take a closer look at yourself before you go calling me names?”
“I’m not the one who’s slept with half the girls here.” She snaps her mouth closed, and her cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink.
I don’t bother denying, stepping closer as an invisible thread pulls me toward her. I close the distance between us until she’s forced to tip her head back to look at me. “Are you jealous?”
“Never.” Her voice is breathy as her blue eyes meet mine, pupils blown wide in the shadows. Black lashes fan over her alabaster skin each time she blinks as her chest rises and falls in time with mine.
“Liar.” It’s as if I can’t get enough oxygen, like the only way I’ll survive is breathing her in. A voice in the back of my head screams at me that I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t for the life of me think of a reason why.
Our lips nearly graze each other’s when my father strides out of the side door, causing the temperature to dip even lower. He’s on the phone, his voice angrier than he normally lets on, and I thank fuck I’m not the one on the receiving end.
I push Scarlet behind me, shielding her more.
“Who’s there?” My father spins toward us like he has some kind of sixth sense or X-ray vision, and I swear under my breath.
I press my finger to my lips, telling Scarlet to be quiet, and point her to a path, hidden from sight by trees, that leads to another door. Her eyes are wide on mine, her body stubbornly stiff.
“Go,” I mouth and push her until she starts moving.
I wait until she’s far enough away before stepping out of our hiding spot and making a show of tucking my flask into my pocket. He’ll make me pay for it later, but it’s enough of a reason for me to be out here, that he won’t question it more and look behind me. Scarlet had taken her own risk being out here. It would be social suicide for her to be caught behind there with me. Unlike normal people, the women of the Order are expected to stay pure until marriage. Even the thought of the word makes my stomach churn. Who the fuck still believes in that?
“You’re supposed to be responsible for your brothers.” He uses the same tone he’d had on the phone, and dread fills my gut.
I swallow hard, looking at my feet. “I checked on them. They’re fine. I’m going back in now.”
“We’ll speak about this tomorrow.”
Chills run down my spine, but showing fear will only make it worse.
My muscles don’t loosen until he gets into his car, his driver already ready with the door open, and he closes it behind him.
It’s going to hurt like a bitch, but the memory of Scarlet’s body near mine makes me think I won’t regret it.
The squeal of tires fills the air as a Range Rover crashes through the steel gate.
My attention goes back to my dad, but none of his coldness is there. Instead, panic is written in his wide-eyed expression. He’s struggling to open the door, but he can’t get out.
A sick, coiling dread buries deep in my stomach as a sharp click comes from the car milliseconds before it detonates into splintered pieces. Heat flares against my skin as I’m thrown back, crashing against the marble steps leading up to the entry with a thud.
Ringing in my ears dulls my senses, and I heave, desperate to suck in a breath as the world turns to chaos around me.
Flames take up the space where my father’s car was, their heat causing sweat to drip into my eyes.
Thank fuck, Scarlet’s long gone.
My head aches from the explosion as I force myself up. There’s screaming from inside the building, and I twist, trying to see what’s happening. I have to get to my brothers and get the fuck out of here. Despite the heat, chills roll through me as the reality of the situation solidifies. If they’ve gone after my father, they’ll be looking to take the rest of us out next. Bash and Xander’s mischievous grins flash behind my eyes, and my stomach drops. They’re still so fucking little, and I’ve left them in there alone .
I have to get to them. I can get them out if I can just get to them.
My throat burns, and pain radiates through my entire body as I roll onto my hands and knees, fighting against the thrumming in my head.
My father’s words from minutes before loop in my brain. The boys are my responsibility.
Get up. Come on, you fucker, get up.
I clench my teeth against the piercing pain as I stand, surprised at how steady I am on my feet. It’s the seconds of inattention that cost me. Arms hook around my shoulders from behind, and I’m ripped backward.
My elbow slams into my assailant’s gut, earning me a pained grunt, but he doesn’t let go, even as I throw my weight, thrashing against his hold.
“Got him, boss,” my assailant calls out as he drags me backward toward a blacked-out truck.
I dig my feet into the ground, but it doesn’t slow him down.
Rage is radiating through me, but it’s not until Xander’s and Bash’s small forms are dragged out of the house, kicking and screaming, that I learn what true terror is.
My heart slams into my ribs, fear piercing through me like I’m being stabbed with thousands of shards of ice.
They have me constrained, but that doesn’t stop me from slamming my booted heel into his foot with a sickening crunch. His grip loosens, and I use the opportunity to rip out of his grasp, but I don’t make it five feet before a solid weight smashes into my temple, knocking me off my feet.
My head swirls with the force of the impact, and I blink away my blurred vision.
Christopher Laurent stares down at me, a cruel smile smeared across his face and a pipe raised above his head.
The iron taste of blood fills my mouth, coating my teeth, and I spit at him. “I’ll hunt you fucking down.”
He smirks, the bar raising higher. “No you won’t.”
His arm slashes downward, and everything goes black.