His To Claim (Servite Academy #1)

Prologue

SCARLETT

T hree years ago

“Scarlett! Get your ass out here child before I beat the shit out of your mother.”

Here we go again. Every Sunday morning like clockwork our landlord Mrs. Presley bangs on the front door of our small mobile home and shouts the same bogus phrase.

Stepping out onto the rotted, creaking porch, I see my mom lying sprawled on her ass across the front steps, a bottle of vodka barely hanging in her left hand. Her dark hair sits in a dirty, tangled mess upon her head and as always, she is well deserving of the beating Mrs. Presley threatens.

Dear Lord, give me strength.

“I swear, Scarlett, if she keeps pulling this shit, I’ll throw you guys out. I have a reputation to uphold and tenants drunk off their asses in the middle of the street is not acceptable.” The woman pouts, her graying curls bouncing as she speaks.

Right. The pristine reputation of Providence Mobile Home Park is going to be tarnished by the dirty alcoholic sprawled across my doorstep.

Providence is nothing but trash. Dubbed the Gotham City of the West Coast, it’s where the worst of the worst reside. Alcoholics, drug addicts, drug dealers, gang members, prostitutes, etcetera. Criminals line the streets and every corner.

Debauchery at its finest.

“Won’t happen again, Mrs. Presley,” I answer, mockingly waving the old hag off. Of course, it will happen again. Next Sunday morning just like it has for the past six years.

“Yeah, yeah, like I haven’t heard that before child,” she snarls angrily, shrugging her shoulders as she walks off back toward her home.

I roll my eyes exasperated as I walk over to my mother. Bending down to throw the empty bottle of vodka on the grass, I drape her left arm across my shoulders. I’d much rather drag her ass inside but in the state she’s in, I’m better off making this as quick as possible.

As we enter the mobile home, my stepsister Jade snickers from her place at the small folding table we used to eat.

“Did daddy leave you out there on your ass again, Mommy Dearest?” Jade mocks, taking a spoonful of cinnamon sugared cereal in her mouth. She chews loudly, giving me one of her, I told you so , smirks.

God, I hate when she gets all sassy and sarcastic.

“Shut it, Jade,” I sneer, making her roll her eyes.

“You already know how this goes, Scar, don’t know why you still try. Every Saturday night mommy and daddy go out to party. Mommy gets a little handsy with daddy’s friends and he leaves her drunk off her ass at the bar. She’s dropped off the next morning, by who knows who, still drunk off her ass and you nurse her back to sobriety only to be lectured for being such a snob, and the story repeats. When will you learn?”

I ignore her even though I know she’s right. This has been going on for as long as I can remember. My mother always fucking up and me right behind her to pick up the pieces.

In the beginning it was just mom and me. She got knocked up at seventeen and ran away from home after her parents kicked her out. It was just us two for a while and she was working two jobs while I stayed with whatever sitter she could find, usually our next-door neighbor Mrs. Kay. She was trying, at least I thought she was.

That all stopped when I was about five and a half years old and she met my stepdad Chaz, a lowlife, alcoholic, drug dealer with anger issues and one too many priors. Providence’s most eligible bachelor of course.

Chaz had a five-year-old daughter Jade and an eight-year-old son Roman and after just two months, the two of us became five.

For the first two years things were semi-normal. Jade and I were the same age, so we were in the same class and got along relatively well. Roman was always sulking around but would be nice enough if we stayed out of his way.

But suddenly, on my eighth birthday, things took a downward spiral.

Chaz was arrested for nearly beating a man to death who got a little handsy with my mom at a bar. He spent almost three years in jail while we spent that time with a drugged up, drunk, and high-handed desolate woman.

Jade distanced herself from me blaming me for my mother’s temper and abusive tendencies, while Roman outright ignored me.

I was utterly alone.

Kids at school were cruel because Jade told them my mom was a lowlife drunk who preferred the company of strange men to that of her own daughter.

I mean it wasn’t a lie. My mom would take off four days out of the week and we never knew where she’d go. It only made sense.

When Chaz was released early on probation, my mom stopped going out and they would spend hours in their bedroom only coming out to get more alcohol when they’d run out. Roman used to say they had to make up for lost time, but I knew what he meant. They were having sex. The thought of it made me cringe.

The next three years passed in a frenzy of misfortunes. Mom and Chaz would argue constantly only to “make up” even louder. When things would get really bad, he’d leave to stay at his buddy’s place, and we’d get the wrath of my mother’s aching palm. Our landlord threatened on multiple occasions to kick us to the curb, only I think she was terrified of what Chaz would do to her.

Everyone in town was. He was the psycho ex-con who nearly beat a man to death for touching his even more psychotic, whore of a girlfriend. A true Harlequin Romance.

Roman took off when he turned sixteen and left Jade and I to fend for ourselves. He was smart to save himself but it devastated Jade. He was her brother, but she and I were best friends now, true sisters.

After being through so much together we kind of had no choice. It was either stick together or end up alone, and we refused to choose the latter. We still argued constantly but isn’t that what sisters are supposed to do?

Which brings us to today. It’s the eve of my fourteenth birthday and mom and Chaz are back to their old tricks. We spent our last night as a “family” sitting around a fire pit outside our mobile home, mom with a bottle of vodka in hand and Chaz with his hand around my mother. If I’d have known it would be our last night here, I can’t say I would have done anything differently.

The next morning, the morning of my fourteenth birthday, I awaken to the sound of Jade furiously throwing her things against the wall of our shared bedroom.

“That stupid bitch. She took it, she took all of it,” Jade yells as I sit up in bed rubbing my eyes before turning to face her .

“What are you talking about, Jade?” I ask, my voice still groggy from sleep.

“She took my money. The cash I had hidden away to get out of this fucked up place. She took it all. I swear I’m going to kill her,” she yells, hysterically laughing, and throwing her hands in the air.

At her remark, she storms out of our shared bedroom while I throw the covers off of me and onto the ground, sleepily following behind her.

Jade fiercely bangs her fists on our parents’ bedroom door, nearly knocking it down and yelling at the top of her lungs. “Come out you stupid bitch!”

“What’s going on, Jade? You’re freaking me out!” I shout, not understanding what she’s talking about. I try to calm her down to talk to me, but we’re suddenly startled by an even louder pounding on the front door.

I look over at Jade silently motioning for her to get behind me. I may only be three months older than her, but I’ve always taken on the role of the older sister. The protector.

We slowly walk over to the front door and I grab a bat that’s hung up against the wall by the door. Yeah, it’s that kind of neighborhood.

“Hillcrest Hills Police Department, open the door!” they shout, banging on the metal screen door as we stand motionless, suddenly at a loss for words. What are the police doing here?

I turn to Jade who stares at me with her wide green eyes, her dirty blond hair falling out of her messy ponytail. Nobody ever believed we were actual sisters like we always swore to be. Her bright green eyes are just like her father’s, while apparently my cerulean ones match those of my so-called father, whoever he is.

Frankly, if it weren’t biologically possible, I wouldn’t be so sure he exists.

Jade’s hair is a complete contrast to my dark locks, courtesy of my mother, but right at this moment I know I’d do anything to protect my sister, blood or not .

Outside our front door, voices continue shouting loudly.

“Hand over the keys!” someone shouts, startling us even further.

Maybe my mother and Chaz are outside?

Suddenly the door is swung open aggressively, as five officers with SWAT like uniforms come barging in, filling up the small space of our mobile home. I turn and grab Jade holding her in a tight embrace.

“We’re looking for Chandler Zander Wolfe & Lilith Steele,” one officer shouts. That’s right, my mother’s name is Lilith, the devil’s mistress herself.

“They’re not here!” I shout back, hovering over Jade, not bothering to look their way.

“Search the place!” the officer I assume is in charge, yells out ignoring me.

“Please, they’re just children, you’re frightening them,” Mrs. Presley urges as she appears from behind the cop. Well, what do you know, looks like the old hag cares? This must be affecting her reputation as well.

The officer in charge walks slowly toward us as Jade and I walk backward until we hit the kitchen wall behind us.

“Sweetheart,” he says, his dark glasses hiding the eyes I assume are looking straight at me. “I’m Agent Wesley Servite and I’m going to ask you this one more time. Where are your mom and dad?”

“We don’t know,” Jade shouts from behind me. “But let me know when you find her because that bitch stole my money.”

“Jade, shut it,” I mutter underneath my breath.

He turns to one of the other officers who stayed in the living room while the others moved to search the mobile home. “Carson, put an APB out for Chandler Wolfe and Lilith Steele, on the run, possibly armed, and extremely dangerous.”

“What are you talking about on the run? What did they do?” I ask anxiously .

“Come, girls, let’s have a seat here to talk.”

I grab hold of Jade’s hand as we slowly walk over to the torn up, stained couch in the middle of our living room. The brown suede, which smells like vomit on a good day, takes up most of the small living space. Behind it are a few mismatched, dusty shelves full of meaningless knick-knacks and across is a small drawer chest with an old school television set. You know the one that looks like a computer screen that belongs in the 1980s.

“There should be a third party here with you to talk with the girls, Agent Servite. They’re minors,” Mrs. Presley blurts out from the doorway.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Preston was it,” he says, purposely mispronouncing her name and letting her know her opinion is unsolicited. “This is none of your concern. A child services agent is on her way as we speak, so please do yourself a favor and leave the scene before I have one of my officers remove you.”

Mrs. Presley hurriedly leaves looking over her shoulder before the door is shut on her.

Meanwhile, Jade and I sit uncomfortably on the couch while Agent Servite grabs a folding chair from the kitchen and places it in front of us, straddling the back of the chair like he’s about to interrogate two criminals and is trying to intimidate us.

Now I can see why he stood out from the rest of the officers.

His demeanor and well-tailored suit scream money while his blond perfectly combed hair is flawlessly done. Clear blue eyes peek out behind dark shades, his stare burning as his eyes rake over my body focusing too long on the thin, spaghetti strap pajama top and shorts I’m wearing.

Suddenly I’m self-conscious, pulling a nearby cushion and placing it on my lap.

“Ladies, I can assume this is quite frightening, but I need you to tell me where your parents are?” he says, gazing at me.

“We don’t know,” I spat out, squeezing Jade’s hand. At my motion, his eyes shift down to our joined hands and then back up at me, but I keep my eyes on him the entire time. He will not intimidate me.

He seems like the type. The rich as fuck prick who uses his power and authority to intimidate those around him. It's pathetic and frankly a little sad he feels the need to use it on two teenage girls.

Agent Servite glares at me, the edges of his lips curving up slightly in amusement and it pisses me off. “I’m going to ask you once more, child,” he spits the last word out like an insult. We may be minors but we’ve seen a hell of a lot living in this world that has matured us beyond our years.

“It’s Scarlett,” I retort, interrupting him.

Amusement spreads over his face. “Yes, Scarlett Serena Steele, daughter of Lilith Steele and an unknown male, and Jade Emma Wolfe, daughter of Chandler Zander Wolfe and the late Amelia Connor. I know who you are, girls. They’ve watched you all closely since Chaz’s latest release from prison. It was only a matter of time before he’d violate his probation. It’s all in here,” he says holding up a manila folder I hadn't noticed he was holding.

“Then you know they are no parents to us. Only the fucked-up adults we’re burdened with till we turn eighteen and get the fuck out of this place,” Jade mutters angrily.

“That, my dear, may come sooner than you think.” Agent Servite doesn’t react to Jade's current state of distress, he simply continues with his calm line of questioning. “Chandler Wolfe and Lilith Steele are wanted for suspected armed robbery of three Hillcrest Hills mansions and the murder of Hillcrest Hills Mayor Silas Smoak. A child services agent is on her way to remove you from this home and take you into protective custody.”

Hillcrest Hills? If I’m not mistaken, that’s the snobby rich town a couple hours away. What the hell were they doing there?

“Fuck no!” Jade blurts out in horror. “My brother,” she stammers nervously. “He can take us in. ”

“I’m sorry, Jade, but your brother is still a minor himself and regardless, we haven’t been able to locate his whereabouts.”

“He wouldn’t help them if that’s what you’re insinuating. If anybody hates Chaz and Lilith more than we do, it’s Roman.”

Suddenly, a tall, blond and elegantly dressed woman walks through our front door heading straight to us. A deep scowl forms upon her face as she notices Agent Servite sitting across us.

“Agent Servite,” she says in a soft foreign accent, handing him a business card. “I'm Elena Masters with the Department of Social Services.”

“Ms. Masters, this is Scarlett Steele and Jade Wolfe. Their parents are fugitives of the law and they have no immediate next of kin. They are now under the protective custody of the Department of Social Services and the State of California. I just have a few questions if you would have a seat.” He motions for her to sit next to us on the couch, but she blatantly ignores him and turns to us.

“Scarlett, Jade, my name is Elena and as you heard I’m with social services. Just a few questions, Agent Servite, as I must proceed with the process of getting these girls somewhere safe.”

Her eyes, warm and empathetic as she looks to us, turn fierce and cold when they connect with Agent Servite. Call me a cynic but I have a feeling this isn’t the first time these two have met although that’s what they want us to believe.

“Please have a seat. The sooner we begin, the sooner these girls can go to their new home.” Agent Servite turns his attention back to us and I really wish he wouldn’t. “As I previously mentioned, your parents are fugitives, is there anything you can tell us about where we can locate them?” he asks, leaning back and bringing a hand to his chin.

“Isn’t it your job to locate them? Or are we now also employees of the Hillcrest Police Force?” Jade sneers as she raises an eyebrow challenging Agent Servite.

I can’t help but smirk. That’s Jade for you. The ever so subtle sarcasm queen. She despises two things - authority and our parents. Having never known her mother, she’s been alone with Chaz and her brother until he met my mother.

My mother was always jealous of Jade’s beauty and how much she resembled her mother who was Chaz’s first love. I think that’s one reason she always took her anger out on her.

“Jade, just please answer Agent Servite’s question,” Elena whispers apologetically.

“We don’t know where they are,” I say, interrupting Jade. “The last time we saw them was last night. We had a bonfire outside and then Jade and I went to bed around midnight. We woke up right before you guys’ barged in.”

“We heard yelling right before we came in,” he continues.

“That was me. I was yelling because it turns out that bitch stole my money too,” Jade says defensively.

“What money?” he asks.

“Money my brother was sending me so we could get out of this hellhole.”

“From where?”

“Hell if I know, it appeared in the mailbox twice a month.”

Elena moves forward. “I think that’s enough, Agent Servite. It’s clear the girls have no clue where their parents are. I must proceed now with placing these girls in a home.”

“Of course, Ms. Masters.” Agent Servite stands, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out two business cards handing one to each of us.

“If you think of anything else, or ever need anything, don’t hesitate to contact me.” His blue eyes once again rake over my body and a small smirk appears as he senses my discomfort. He leans closer to me as Ms. Masters turns and pulls some papers out of her bag. “We will find them,” he whispers, his hot breath felt against the skin of my neck. “And if we don’t, I’ll make sure the two of you pay for their crimes. Mark my words, sweetheart.”

I stand motionless and terrified by his threat as he moves back and walks out the door. Sweetheart . The endearment sounds tainted coming from his lips and frankly it creeps me the fuck out.

“Girls, I know this is all difficult to take in but since you have no immediate family old enough to take custody of you, and the matter with your mum and dad not being around, I’m afraid we will place you in the system. Unfortunately, we don’t have any space here in Providence, but there is a foster family in Pleasant Hills that has room for the both of you until we find a more permanent home. If you’d like to gather some belongings before we go, I’ll give you half an hour.”

Jade and I head back to our bedroom to pack what little belongings we can take with us. Ms. Masters says the foster home we’re going to will provide us with whatever necessities we may need. Apparently, there aren’t many foster families in the nearby area, especially ones willing to take in two teenage sisters, so we may end up staying with this couple until we turn eighteen.

“This is all so fucked up,” Jade grunts as she grabs a backpack from under her bed.

“Please, we both know we’re better off in this foster home than we ever were in this shithole. With your alcoholic father and my psychotic mother, we’d be in worse shape in a few years.”

“All I know is that this Agent Servite better get me my money back. Besides, did you see how hot he was? I mean… for a man like what, in his thirties,” she says, winking at me.

“You’re such a pig, Jade.”

She says this unaware of what Agent Servite whispered in my ear before he left. Under any other circumstances I might agree with Jade. He had this certain thing about him that made him intriguing. The aura of wealth and power was alluring but the sinister twinge in his eye when he looked at me, full of hate when I had never even met the man, was unsettling more than it was enticing.

In any other world, slicked back blond hair, intriguing blue eyes, mixed with broad shoulders and an impeccably tailored suit, he’s every woman’s fantasy. But the way he was looking at me proves my first instinct about him was right. He’s dangerous and I’m afraid I’m already on his bad side.

“What did he tell you when he leaned into you, anyway? That was pretty creepy.”

I look away from Jade hoping to hide my unease. “Nothing, just that he thinks we’re lying.” I half-lie. There is no reason to worry Jade with his idle threats. Wherever we go, we’ll be safe from him, I hope.

“Shit, Scarlett,” she yells, throwing her arms around me. “I can’t believe I forgot. Happy Birthday, Sis.”

That’s when it dawns on me. It’s my fourteenth birthday. Well, it’s off to a hell of a start.

After thirty minutes Jade and I packed our entire lives into two small backpacks, piled into Ms. Masters Mercedes Benz SUV, and drove the hour and a half to Pleasant Hills.

Jade spent the entire drive glaring out the backseat window, while Elena tried to do the whole small talk thing. I have to give her some credit, she’s tenacious but neither Jade nor I responded to any of her questions. It didn’t seem to faze her though. She must be used to the kids she places in new homes to all have some sort of resentment against her even though all she’s trying to do is help.

Don’t kill the messenger and all that bullshit.

Elena keeps the charade until she pulls into the driveway of what I assume is our destination and shifts the Benz into park.

We pull up to an abandoned looking, two-story yellow house, with chipped gray shutters and a large white picket fence. The windows are boarded up with metal bars and there is a rusty porch swing on the semi-manicured lawn. A large fence to one side and a small one-car garage on the other. It’s not a bad-looking house, definitely bigger than our two-bedroom mobile home, but it oddly doesn’t look lived in. At the top of the small second-story window is a large sign reading THE GRAYSON’S.

“This is where we’re going?” Jade scoffs with obvious distaste.

“Home Sweet Home,” I say laughing.

Elena turns her head to us as she grabs her purse from the passenger seat. Her light hazel eyes look warm and comforting as she smiles softly at the two of us who have been nothing but rude to her since we met.

“It was such short notice so I’m not sure your room is ready yet. Stay here while I get all of your paperwork settled,” she says in her posh accent.

We idly wait in the car as she walks down the driveway and up the cracked pavement leading to the entrance. She knocks on the front door a few times, but nobody comes to answer it. Looking down at her watch she knocks again, but still no answer. Deciding we’ve given her enough time on her own, I step out of the car, Jade following behind me when a tall, thin woman with the wildest red hair I’ve ever seen steps out of the screen door. The lady eyes us warily as we step up to Elena, and I know what she’s thinking as she looks us over.

Two teenage girls mean trouble.

Sure, Jade and I are still kids, but we are wise beyond our years. Kids in these rundown neighborhoods grow up without parents and we grow up fast. I can tell she knows we’re no good at following rules, and to anyone giving their generous time to raising kids in the system, that’s a load of unwanted trouble.

“Mrs. Grayson, like I mentioned over the phone earlier today, I’m Elena Masters with the Department of Social Services. These are the two girls I informed you I was bringing. They are Scarlett Steele and Jade Wolfe, ages fourteen and thirteen, sisters from Providence.”

“Yes, of course, Ms. Masters, welcome to Pleasant Hills,” says the red-haired woman looking directly at us, ignoring Ms. Masters who stands before us .

“I’m Alice Grayson, my wife Sarah and I started as foster parents when we first got married fifteen years ago. We’ve seen many kids come and go through our doors, but we assure you this is not your typical foster home. Sarah and I love all the children we’ve housed, and we believe you all are worthy of a fair chance at the life you deserve. Here you girls will be cared for. I must warn you as soon as you step through these doors you become part of our family. You become an honorary Grayson. Mine and Sarah’s daughters. The boys and girls here, your siblings.”

She smiles softly at us as she turns and begins walking through the door leading us into the main living area of the home.

We follow the woman, Alice, into a large room painted a light blue color with two large beige couches lined in a L-shape in the middle of the room facing an entertainment system.

“This is the main living room. Where the kids spend most of their time. As for bedtimes and all that, we have to enforce a curfew by state regulations but other than that you are free to come and go as you please.”

We keep walking down the hall as she motions to the television hanging on the wall.

“This is the only place in the house with a television and it has some cable channels we can afford to have. There’s a small computer lab upstairs, with about four computers, but most of the kids just do their homework at the high school or library.” She continues to walk and talk as we follow her through the house.

“To the right here we have the kitchen and dining room. I usually do most of the cooking, Sarah’s not a particularly good cook.” She turns to me and whispers quietly, “Don’t tell her I said that. I’ll deny it, I swear.” I can’t help but crack a smile. “We serve three meals daily along with various snacks in our pantry available for you. Breakfast is at seven, nine on weekends, lunch is at noon on non-school days, and we have dinner together every night at six. ”

I get this eerie feeling we are being watched although there is not a kid in sight.

“Where’s everyone at?” Jade asks, looking around the empty house.

“At school of course. You girls will enroll at Pleasant Hills High.”

“Great, a new school,” Jade snickers as she stares at a picture frame hanging in the middle of the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Is this Sarah?” she asks, pointing to the photograph of Mrs. Grayson with a woman with dark brown hair and brown almond-shaped eyes. They stand in what looks like a yard with four kids, three boys and a girl, who look to be about ten years old.

“Yes, that’s my Sarah and our children.”

“You have kids of your own?” I ask.

“All fosters, but those four have been here the longest,” she says, but adds no more information, so I don’t ask.

“How many other kids are here?” asks Jade.

“Those four, two older boys who are about to turn eighteen in the next few months, and three younger children who are about to turn ten and eight, twin girls and their brother. We never have over ten kids at a time but since Kayden and Mitchell turn eighteen soon and will leave, we have space for you two.”

Elena shrugs her shoulders as she turns to us. “It was here or five hours away in Lakeview, figured this would be best,” she says, turning to look at Mrs. Grayson who steps into the kitchen leaving us alone with her. “My supervisor has worked with Alice and Sarah before and she has said nothing but wonderful things about them. They are good people. Genuine and caring. It’s hard to find those qualities in foster families nowadays. Everyone’s in it for a payout or because they’re too lazy to get a proper job. You’ll be much better off here with them than where you were.”

“You know nothing about us or our situation,” I sneer, and I regret it instantly. Elena has been nothing but kind. It’s not her fault our parents are criminals. I remember Agent Servite’s words, possibly murderers.

“You’re right, I don’t. Either way, I have faith that you will find a home here,” she adds, and I turn to look at Jade who simply shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s not like we have another choice,” she says as Mrs. Grayson re-enters the room with a plate of cookies.

“Shall I show you your rooms?”

I guess this doesn’t seem so bad, compared to our alternative.