3. Ren
3
REN
“ I can’t do this.”
There , I said it . It’s weighed on me for weeks, ever since the attack on Aspen. I knew then it wouldn’t be enough, already aware of River’s full plan. There would be nothing more than a brief reprieve before he called upon me to take the next step.
He presses himself back in the chair, throwing his hands into the air in a gesture of hopelessness—but not surprise.
“I knew it. I knew you’d lose your balls.”
“Watch it,” I growl.
“I’m only speaking facts.” Rubbing his temples like he’s trying to ward off a headache, he groans angrily. Like he’s the one being put through hell.
“All I’m saying is, we need to rethink this. Evaluate the plan.”
“Is that the sort of bullshit they teach at Corium?” he taunts. “Fancy doubletalk?”
It isn’t easy to swallow back my irritation.
He’s only trying to get a rise out of you.
Somehow, even knowing that is not enough. “It’s the truth. When we laid out our plans, things were different.”
“Oh, were they?” He leans closer to his laptop, his face filling my screen while his sarcastic voice echoes through the room. Now his ire is clearer than ever, lit up by the glow from the light in my apartment.
His eyes appear black. Empty. Like a shark’s the moment it smells blood.
“Not to mention how risky this is,” I continue, deliberately avoiding the bait he’s dangling in front of me. “We barely got away with the attack on Aspen. Quinton is looking over his shoulder with every step he takes.”
“He’s not nearly as worried about himself as he is about his wife,” River counters. “He thinks it makes him heroic or some shit. So high up on his horse, he couldn’t imagine anyone ever trying to take a swipe at him.”
Anger ripples through me. “You don’t know him.”
His raised eyebrow leaves me bracing myself. “Oh? I don’t? Right . I couldn’t possibly understand your deep, special relationship because he’s so important to you. More important than blood?”
It’s not a question, but it feels like it.
“Stop twisting this around,” I warn, my heart pumping harder and blood beginning to roar in my ears. It’s always this way. I start out so strong and confident. I’m sure I can get through a call with him without losing control of my temper. But it never fails.
Like magic, here I am, clenching my fists out of sight of the camera. Clenching them so tight, it hurts.
He heaves a sigh, shaking his head as if he’s disappointed in me. “This is war. How many times do I need to remind you of that?”
I should know better than to think he’ll understand. He never does. I concluded long ago that River is missing some key component that makes a person human. That certain something that separates us from animals.
In some ways, I envy his ability to look at the world in black and white. There are no shades of gray for him. No degrees of right or wrong. You’re either for him, or you’re against him. There is no in-between.
There are times when I know life would be easier if I could shut down my feelings. My allegiance. This is one of those times.
“Tell me something,” he murmurs before I’m able to come up with a response. “When did you lose sight of what’s most important?”
“I haven’t,” I snap.
I hate when he’s like this. Sitting back, watching my life, passing judgment on things he could never understand. It’s one thing to watch but another to experience. He hasn’t shared what Q and I have shared over the years. The friendship, the trust. He’s only ever been an observer.
No wonder it’s so easy for him to sentence Q to death.
Especially when he won’t be the one performing the execution.
“Fine.” He sits up straighter, shrugging.
“What’s fine?” I have a sinking feeling…panic rising in my throat.
“I took care of Aspen. I suppose I’ll have to take care of your precious Q this time.”
I suck a sharp breath into my lungs. “No.”
Big mistake.
His eyes narrow, and I know I stepped straight into his trap.
“Wow. You really love him, huh? When’s the wedding? Is bigamy allowed at Corium? I suppose so since every other crime is, minus death.”
“Enough.” I’m two seconds from slamming the laptop shut, but I can’t give in to the impulse. I can’t let him come here to do the job himself. Casualties will be far worse if I allow that.
“Now I know this is truly for the best,” he muses, shaking his head. “It’s one thing to get revenge, but it’s another to pull you back from the edge and remind you of what matters. You’ve lost focus.”
Have I? Or is he looking for a fight?
Stroking his chin, he adds, “Maybe I need to pay you a visit after taking care of our Q problem. We can talk face-to-face about your loyalty. Get you back on track to where your focus needs to be.”
“There’s no need for any of that.” I tighten my jaw, molars grinding. “I’ll get it done.”
“Oh?” He feigns surprise. “What changed your mind? The fear that I might actually do it myself?”
This time, I follow through on the impulse to close the laptop and end the call. It’s better to do that before I say something I can’t take back.
River is dangerous, but unlike most, his bark is nothing compared to his bite. When he puts his mind to something, if he’s determined enough, he’ll destroy anything in his wake. That’s definitely one thing I admire about him.
It’s better to control him and keep him in line than let him take control.
My body is heavy as I rise from the couch. There’s no decision that needs to be made. This has to happen, and I need to be the one to do it. I don’t trust River when it comes to Q. Let him taunt all he wants, but I’ve known him long enough to understand where his attitude stems from. It’s jealousy, plain and simple. He resents the presence of anyone in my life who isn’t Luna or himself.
Let him pretend all he wants that this is strictly according to plan, that Q is a casualty of war. He can’t convince me otherwise. I know it’s personal for him.
Which is why he can’t be the one to do it. This needs to look like an accident. It’s too likely River will lose his cool, and things will get out of hand. We don’t need a blood bath. A bad fall is one thing, but I get the feeling there’d be questions if Q ended up with his face kicked in until it was unrecognizable.
It’s better this way.
That’s what I tell myself as I march resolutely to the door and open it slowly, quietly, listening for any voices or footsteps signaling I’m not alone.
One good thing about the fallout from Aspen’s attack, aside from the spotlight no longer being on Scarlet and me, is that most everyone chooses to stay in their apartments now in case the attacker decides to strike again.
There’s not much that will keep Q from a workout, though; he’s a creature of habit.
He ought to be wrapping up any time now and will take the stairs down to his apartment rather than use the elevator. It’s a part of his cooldown process.
My heart is heavy though my feet are light, carrying me soundlessly down the hall. The silence brings to mind a graveyard. I’m sure that’s my guilty conscience plaguing me. Q trusts me above anyone in his life, and this is how I’m repaying him.
He isn’t family. He isn’t blood.
And as River loves to remind me, this is war. That’s what gets me to the stairwell closest to the gym, where I press myself into a corner, fading into the shadows. I have to do this. There’s no other way. No matter how I wish otherwise.
My heart’s pounding hard enough that I wonder if Q will hear it before he reaches me. A deep breath helps center me— until the door one floor up swings open, followed by the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
This is it. Remember what matters. Remember where this all started.
In my mind’s eye, I see myself pushing him down the stairs from behind, then following him down and finishing the job while he’s dazed. A single slam against the concrete stairs should be enough to smash his skull like an egg.
A buzzing noise fills my head, growing louder with every step he descends. Holding my breath, I watch as he rounds the landing above me, unaware he isn’t alone, jogging down the stairs while looking at his phone. He slides it into his pocket as he rounds this landing, not ten feet from where I’m waiting.
This is it.
No going back now.
Once his back is turned, I lunge before I lose my nerve, both hands against his shoulders.
I can barely bite back a frustrated cry as I push.
I’m a traitor. He trusted me, and now he’s falling, tumbling down the unforgiving stairs. I can’t see much of him in the dim light, but I don’t need to. I hear him, and that’s more than enough to turn my stomach and make me curse the day River ever suggested we get revenge.
He comes to a stop at the next landing and lies still for a few breathless moments that seem to stretch on forever.
Did I get lucky for once? Did the fall kill him?
Of course it didn’t.
A muffled groan fills the stairwell not a second later, and my stomach plummets. I know what I have to do, but I can’t.
I have to look into the face of my best friend before smashing his skull.
Why won’t my feet move?
I grip the railing, steeling myself, teeth gritted against the agony burning my insides like acid. My jaw fucking aches from the tension. River’s voice rings out in my head.
Move, dammit. Finish this.
I do move—not in Q’s direction, however. I take the stairs up to the next floor and head straight for the elevator, my heart pounding hard enough to make me sick by the time I jam my finger against the button.
What if he saw me?
What if someone finds out?
Why didn’t I have the balls to finish the job?
I can’t answer the third question, and it doesn’t matter as much as the first two, anyway. Soon everyone will know the truth. The faster I get out of here, the less likely I’ll be caught.
I’m not taking that chance.
A minute later, I’m pulling a suitcase from my closet and throwing it on the bed before grabbing items: clothes, my toothbrush, my laptop.
Thoughts run rampant. It shouldn’t take long for someone to find him. Q is strong; he most likely got up and hobbled his way back to his room. I’m not sure if he saw me, but that doesn’t matter. I’ll be far away from here by the time anyone starts putting the pieces together.
With that in mind, I pull out my phone to request a helicopter. It isn’t unusual for me to come and go at random times, meaning there shouldn’t be a question of why I’m flying out with a bag in hand. This time, there will be no return flight.
I have no idea where I’ll go. I only know I can’t stay here. The traitor who’ll soon have a price on his head. The would-be murderer.
Why, of all times, does Scarlet’s face now appear before me? A stupid question—I tried to kill her brother, which would make two siblings she’s lost. Besides Q, who else would I think about now? Leaving Corium is as good as admitting my guilt, which means not only cutting all ties with Q but with his family. His sister.
The invisible knife in my gut sinks deeper.
Then it turns, sending burning pain radiating outward.
It’s enough to slow my packing as I consider what it will do to her when she finds out what I attempted. She’s more than a temptation put on earth to plague me. She’s young and stubborn enough to ignore anything she doesn’t feel like believing.
Such as the absolute futility of caring about me. It’s a waste of time. Yet she insists on doing so anyway, when she isn’t driving me out of my skull with the need to touch, taste…claim. Every kiss and caress was a mistake. At the time, I imagined the greatest danger was being discovered by her brother, who’d waste no time killing me. Now, I know I made her care more for me with every forbidden encounter.
I could have stopped things in their tracks before we went too far. At least, that’s what I have to tell myself. Memory has a way of softening things, of making me believe all of this could’ve gone differently. That I could’ve been strong. Refused her. Pretended she didn’t exist.
Reality was another story.
“Where’s Scarlet?”
This time around, it’s Xander who notices his daughter’s absence from the dinner table. She’s been gone for nearly ten minutes, which I know since I’ve checked the time more than once when she didn’t come straight back.
She would have to go and do this, wouldn’t she? It’s bad enough I’m already overly aware of her. Ever since that night with the Grimaldi family, there’s been no getting her out of my head. She’s a temptation I can’t shake.
A danger I should know better than to entertain, even when I’m alone, even when she is miles away, and there’s no possibility of us running into each other.
Even then, I shouldn’t think about her as much as I do or the way that I do. Because now, it’s become a habit, and the line between fantasy and reality blurs further all the time.
Now, when she leaves the dinner table with no explanation, I’m far too aware of her. There was a time—not so long ago—when I wouldn’t give it a moment’s thought, too busy eating and busting Q’s balls, something Luna and Scarlet love to tag team on.
Instead, every ounce of my awareness is trained on her. I take a bite of beef, but it might as well be sawdust. Where did she go? Why hasn’t she come back?
I meet Xander’s inquisitive gaze, shrugging.
“I can take a look and make sure she’s okay.”
He nods, satisfied, before returning to his conversation with my father. A quick glance around the table confirms no one thinks anything strange is going on. Why would they? I haven’t done anything wrong. Yet.
I hate the presence of that word ringing out in my head as I excuse myself from the table and begin my hunt.
Nothing inappropriate has taken place between us—yet.
Not in reality, at least.
In my imagination? That’s an entirely different story. It’s a miracle my dick isn’t permanently chafed from the attention it gets every time Scarlet comes to mind.
What is it about her? What’s changed? Ever since the night I caught Enzo Grimaldi screwing with her in the library, there’s been no getting her out of my system. Not the child I always considered her, but the woman she’s becoming. A woman I have no business going anywhere near, no matter how right it would feel in the moment to let go of my qualms.
She’s not in the hall, the kitchen, or the powder room. I glance toward the sweeping staircase leading upstairs and consider searching for her up there but hold myself back. God forbid she’s in her bedroom, where I’ve already imagined ravishing her more than once.
Another minute of searching leads me to the terrace overlooking the garden. I find her there, leaning her folded arms against the railing, gazing out at a landscape painted by the first beams of a radiant full moon.
My mouth goes dry, my heart forgetting to beat.
She’s beyond any fantasy. A vision in a blue dress the same shade as her eyes, shining blond locks hanging in thick waves that conceal her profile, adding to her mystery. I’d stand here admiring her all evening if it wasn’t for the reality of our meal waiting for us.
“Hey,” I grunt, careful to keep my distance. “You’ve been missed. Better get back.”
She turns slowly, revealing a soft, knowing smile and a gleam of wickedness in her gaze. “It took you long enough.”
“Pardon?” I choke out. That’s not how this is supposed to go. She was not supposed to be waiting for me out here.
“To find me. I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispers.
It’s a struggle to remain blank-faced. “Why?”
Why is she doing this to me?
“I wanted a minute alone with you.” Turning slowly, she smooths her hands down the front of her dress and asks, “What do you think? I bought it with you in mind.”
What do I think? I think I’d love nothing more than to flip that knee-length skirt over her ass and rail her until she’s a sobbing, gushing mess on my cock. The girl hasn’t learned the danger of asking loaded questions.
“Why would you buy a dress with me in mind?”
She rolls her eyes before crossing the terrace, taking one measured step at a time, my dick twitching all the while.
“You’re going to pretend you don’t look at me the way you do?”
Folding my arms, I scoff. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her hair sparkles in the moonlight as she shakes her head.
“We both know that isn’t true. I caught the way you looked at me the last time we all had dinner together. And in the library. You almost ripped that guy’s head off to protect me.”
“I would’ve done the same thing if it was Luna in that position.”
“Not exactly the same thing.” She comes to a stop mere inches from me, leaving me helpless against the sweet, light scent of her floral perfume. “Come on. Do I have to spell it out?”
“You don’t have to do anything but come back to the dining room.”
“You know I like you,” she whispers, her cheeks blushing at the admission. “And I think you like me, too. Why are we pretending otherwise?”
“I like you as a person,” I reply, my voice strained. “That’s it. To me, you’re a little sister. You’re a kid.”
“I know you don’t mean that.”
“What makes you say that?” I force a smirk when, in reality, apprehension is beginning to trickle through my veins, turning my body cold.
She sees through me. I can’t have that. It’s the most dangerous aspect of a situation already fraught with enough tension to snap my sanity.
She’s beaming with trust and enough hope to break my heart when she speaks. “You think you’re being noble.”
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.
But damned if her innocence doesn’t strike me as hilarious. Here I am, fighting for my life, pretending my dick isn’t doing its damnedest to convince me we’d both be much more comfortable if he was out and buried deep in her pussy. Pretending I haven’t entertained dangerous fantasies about being her first in every way.
In my head, I’ve taken her in every filthy, depraved way possible.
And she thinks I’m being noble.
Who could blame me for laughing?
Her delicate brows draw together. “What’s so funny?” she demands, even stomping her foot like the child she still is in so many ways.
It only makes me laugh harder.
“You,” I finally manage to gasp. Her cheeks darken, pain touching her eyes and making her mouth tick downward at the corners.
Guilt lances me, and immediately, I want to apologize. Hurting her is the last thing I want to do.
She deserves nothing less than complete happiness, safety, and security. The very thought of causing her pain leaves me with a burning ache in my chest.
It’s better this way.
That’s all that keeps me from letting an apology slip from my lips. Knowing it’s better for her to hate me or at least resent my dismissiveness.
The sooner she abandons these pointless fantasies, the better for us both. Because I don’t know how many of these encounters I can make it through before my thin grasp on self-control dissolves.
“You’re a child,” I continue, knowing it digs the knife in deeper but pushing through my guilt just the same. The guilt would be much worse if I gave in. If I forgot the many reasons this can’t happen.
“Do I look like a child to you?” she whispers, tilting her head to the side.
Wrong question. Way wrong. It’s almost enough to make me hate her for putting me through this. If I thought she had any real understanding of the fire she’s so carelessly playing with, my insatiable craving might turn to resentment.
“You know what I’m saying,” I continue in a low, smooth voice that completely belies the torment tearing me in half. “You’re acting like a child. Only children think things will always go their way. They don’t understand the reasons for the existence of rules and boundaries.”
She has the nerve to scoff and toss her head, which has the unfortunate effect of sending a fresh wave of sweet scent my way. “All of a sudden, you care about rules and boundaries? That’s new.”
“Don’t pretend to know anything about me,” I warn, watching her shoulders lift defensively at my change in tone. “If anything, you should understand the importance of what I’m trying to tell you. You think I don’t care about rules, but here I am, trying to convince you how wrong this is. Give it a little thought, and you’ll see what I mean.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Stop.” Rather than lash out the way she would if this was nothing more than a game of sibling teasing, her voice is soft. She shakes her head while a tiny smile curves her tempting, glossy lips.
“You don’t have to try so hard.”
That’s what she thinks. I’m at the end of my endurance as it is. If I don’t try hard, I get myself killed.
The thought sparks a new tactic. “Do you want me to die? Is that what you’re saying?”
Her head snaps back the way I knew it would. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“Then it’s best you stay away from me because that’s exactly what’s going to happen if anybody so much as suspects what you’re playing at. You wouldn’t be the one blamed for it—you get that, right? It would be my ass in a sling. My balls your father cuts off. Is that what you want?”
When her brow furrows, I’m as good as home free. Reality is finally trickling through that brain of hers. I might make it out of this alive.
Or so I think before she touches a hand to my chest, over my racing heart. So damn tender, sweet, and caring. Dangerously so, because the yearning to lean into her touch is enough to take my breath away.
“I get it. You want this as much as I do, but you’re afraid.”
Is she fucking serious?
Surprise almost takes my breath away. Is she determined to miss the point? “Scarlet, that’s not ? —”
“I understand.” There’s an impish quality to her smile now. “It’ll be our secret. I would never forgive myself if I got you into trouble, and I know you don’t want me getting in trouble, either. You have to know I’d be in just as much shit as you if Dad found out.”
Somehow, I think I’d get the lion’s share of Xander’s wrath, followed by Quinton’s. “I don’t know about that.”
“Don’t worry.” She laughs lightly, the sound like that of someone coming to full understanding after wandering in darkness. “I won’t let anything happen to you; the way I know you’d never let anything happen to me.”
“You’re way off on this,” I manage to grit out.
Why does she have to be this beautiful? Trusting and infuriating and sweet and as fresh as a ripe, juicy peach begging me to sink my teeth in. Even more so when she sways, leaning in closer, brushing her tits against my chest.
“Am I?” she whispers, the sound carrying understanding far beyond her years. “The bulge between us tells me something else.” Her knowing eyes lower to my crotch, where, of course, the evidence of my desire is plain and clear.
Before I can come up with some stupid excuse, she pats my chest gently.
“Like I said. Our little secret.”
“That’s not how it is, Scar.”
My heart sinks completely when she winks before finally taking mercy and turning away, her hips swaying enticingly as she strolls inside.
“Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Ren.”
Leaving me barely able to stay on my feet, uncertain of what just happened.
I only know it was painful enough to keep my hands off her when I thought I was alone in this insane lust that’s sprung up.
Now? My life has become more impossible to navigate than ever.
I did my best. I tried as hard as I could.
And I failed. Just as I failed River tonight.
That failure reverberates in my head like a gong as I cut a quick, silent path through halls I’ll never walk again. I failed in every way possible. Now, all that’s left to do is live with my failure. Alone.
The helicopter waits when I reach the surface and step out into the darkness. Cold air stings my face and turns my breath into a cloud. Has Q been found yet? How long will it take for him to figure out it was me?
If he doesn’t put it together on his own, he surely will once it’s clear I’m not returning. Once he attempts to contact me and gets nowhere. Years of experience have left me with an understanding of the way his mind works. The process of elimination will leave only one possible culprit.
It will hurt him, my betrayal. I can live with it in light of the bigger picture, not to mention the fact that I spared his life when I wasn’t supposed to. He doesn’t know that, but I can comfort myself with the knowledge. My next thought makes my heart clench in my chest.
How is this going to hurt Scarlet?
I don’t need to ask myself that one. There she was, thinking I was some noble hero. If tonight’s chain of events doesn’t destroy the last of her illusions, I don’t know what will.
No doubt, family loyalty will turn her against me, which is how it should be. I was never going to be the man she fooled herself into thinking I was.
Perhaps that will comfort me in the lonely times to come. Telling myself I only cut bonds that should never have been forged. That it’s for the best if she hates me.
Anger with myself—with the world and all its unfairness—leaves me grunting as I buckle the seat restraints. I wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for how ugly and cruel the world can be.
What I did—almost did—is nothing compared to what was done to me, to us. I didn’t strike the first blow.
None of this is my fault.
Is that River’s voice in my head, rationalizing my actions? Or my own?
Only once the helicopter lifts from the pad can I release a sigh, sinking against the seat while I watch Corium grow smaller. I feel no sentiment toward the school itself, I realize. It’s the sense of closing the door on a chapter of my life that leaves me craning my neck to catch one last glimpse.
Something inside me flares white hot when I consider this. I’m turning my back on everyone, but there’s one person I can’t imagine turning away from. She’s too much a part of what’s left of my soul.
I won’t give up on Scarlet. I’ll have to watch from afar, but it isn’t as if that’s anything new. She just can’t ever know.
I promised to protect her. After breaking every unspoken promise by nearly killing her brother, the least I can do is make good on my word this time.
As if I could stay away from her for the rest of my life.
No matter what happens, Scar, I’m going to watch over you.
I’ll keep you safe. Whatever it takes.