Chapter 24
Lucian
Believe it or not, most of the time I actually tried not to be a dick, at least not to people who don’t deserve it.
Right now, Sera was dancing a little too close to that line.
All I’d asked was for her to help clean up the shop. Normally, I’d send her home and lock up with Seb, but that asshole decided not to sleep last night and then texted me basically daring me to fire him.
He wasn’t even important enough to threaten me like that, he just knew Mason would rip me a new one if I did. And I loved her. I’d rather not disappoint her.
Still, even with that familiar warmth humming through my veins, my patience was thinning. I’d dosed earlier—not enough to be obvious, just enough to take the edge off. Sera always noticed, though. Probably because she usually had her own haze. Being her mentor never meant being a good influence.
I grabbed the Windex from the back and started wiping down the piercing case when the world’s most annoying noise chirped behind me.
“You know, you’re polyamorous. That’s basically an open relationship,” Sera said as she half-ass swept.
I didn’t look up. “Not an open relationship.”
To call it that was insulting. Could we sleep around? Sure, if we wanted—but our partners were always in the loop. I was already sneaking off to get high; I didn’t need to sneak off to cheat too.
Sera groaned. “But she has a girlfriend!”
I shrugged, catching my reflection in the glass. Pupils still too big. Whatever.
“We all said she could.” My breath fogged the glass, and I wiped it away with my sleeve.
Sera was never going to be anything more than my apprentice and my plug.
“Did they all say you could do thirties?” she asked, chin tipping toward the bag on the counter.
The bag of M30s I’d been buying off her. Counterfeit oxy, cheaper, stronger. Brought my habit from over a hundred a day down to thirty-ish.
The best part? I never even met the dealer. Every two weeks I handed Sera her paycheck with a “bonus.” My stash for me, extra cash for her.
And I was fine. Functional. No way for anyone to know.
“They don’t need to,” I muttered, flipping open the register to start the count.
Cash was rare these days, but when it came in, I locked most of it away for a rainy-day fund.
“So… If one of them, maybe Mason, just so happened to find out—”
I slammed the drawer shut. The crack of it made her flinch. “You’d be fired. And you’d never find another mentor again. I’d make sure of it.”
Her face twisted, shock mixed with disappointment. Like she’d expected her little attempt at blackmail to turn me on instead of piss me off.
“Then I’d cut off your supply,” she snapped. “You don’t have your own dealer and—”
“I’m not an addict. I can quit whenever I want.”
Her laugh was sharp, ugly. Especially from someone who’d wanted to fuck me ten minutes ago.
“Isn’t that what every addict says right before they vomit and pass out?”
I stared her down, jaw tight.
“I don’t give a shit what some dumbass twenty-year-old says because her boss won’t fuck her.” My words came out through my teeth. “And I don’t give in to brats. Plus, you’re not my type.”
Not entirely true. I wasn’t sure I had a type. Sure, I was shallow enough for looks to matter, but personality outweighed everything. Which is why my three partners, while very attractive, had little else in common.
Her smug expression faltered, but she didn’t back off.
“Oh, because you’re such a catch,” she sneered. “A drug addict who acts like hot shit, too scared to lose one woman so he pokes holes in her condoms and hides her birth control. You don’t even take care of your kids, why make more?”
My teeth scraped together as I weighed the pros and cons of hitting her, before remembering I didn’t hit women. Even when they deserved it.
“Out.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at the door.
Sera pulled back, maybe stupid enough to expect something else.
Instead, she grabbed her torn book bag, tossed me a lazy salute, and stomped out like she’d won.
She hadn’t. Tomorrow, she’d be scrubbing toilets again.
Apprentice meant grunt work. Pay was a courtesy, one I’d revoke if she kept this up.
Until she got the idea of me dicking her down out of her skull, she’d live through hellish shifts.
Normally, I tried to sober up before driving. Mason was strict about alcohol and cars since her dad’s fatal wreck, and I had a feeling she wouldn’t be thrilled about me driving high either. But desperate times.
My fingers brushed the zip-lock bag. I pulled it open, shook three pills into my palm, cracked the coating with my teeth, and swallowed dry. Chalk scraped its way down my throat, burning my esophagus along the way.
I leaned on the freshly cleaned glass, closed my eyes, and counted to a hundred. By the end, warmth spread through my chest, heavy in my arms.
Smiling, I slid down against the brick wall, the rough surface snagging my shirt. The second my ass hit the laminate floor, the world righted itself.
The shop was dark, lit only by passing headlights and streetlamps. Cicadas sang outside. I hummed along, weightless, calm.
Until my phone rang.
My first instinct was to ignore it. No one needed me right now. But then I realized the ringtone was one I had set specifically for Mason.
A stupid love song in Spanish that I swore no one understood, except for Sebastian, apparently, the smug bastard. He knew I was embarrassingly in love, but I let him live. He was the same way with Cameron.
I cleared my throat, practiced my sober voice, and answered.“Buenas noches, mi corazón,” I cooed, grinning despite myself. “I’ll be home soon, I—”
“Lucian.”
Not Mason’s voice. Not even close.
My stomach dropped. I pulled the phone back—Mason’s name was still on the screen. Which meant she’d given Leona her phone. Which meant—fuck.
“The last time you had Mason’s phone, she was almost dead and—”
“She’s alive,” Leona said flatly. “So are your kids. And the baby. They’re all at my house.”
My chest tightened. Sophia. Cameron. Where the hell were they? Why was Mason alone?
“You sound mad,” I forced a swallow. “Why are you mad? Why is she there?”
The silence was thick with her glare. I didn’t wait for the answer. I promised I’d be there soon and hung up.
High or not, I needed to get to Portland.
Normally, the drive from Hartwood to Black Cove took about ninety minutes.
An hour if you sped. Somehow, I made it in just under forty.
Which was insane, not just because of the speed, but because I didn’t remember the drive at all.
One blink, and I was pulling up to the million-dollar house Leona and Atticus had bought after her first kid was born.
In the moonlight, it looked exactly like the glossy magazine photos they’d fallen in love with, except Leona had swapped the tasteful gray siding for cobalt blue and added a persimmon door.
She claimed dull houses looked dead. To me, it looked like a crayon box had exploded on what was once a beautiful home.
Still, between a lawyer and a psychologist, they had the kind of money where taste didn’t matter.
The porch light was off, but nearly every window on the first floor glowed gold against the dark lawn.
I killed the engine and climbed out, boots striking too loud against the concrete. Knocking would only wake the kids, so I went for the fake rock with the spare key. If they hadn’t lived in one of the safest neighborhoods in Portland, the place would’ve been robbed years ago.
The deadbolt clicked, and I pushed the door open slowly, holding my breath. For a second, I thought I’d slipped in unnoticed, until a voice stopped me cold.
“If I were you, I’d find a place to stay tonight. Give your sister time to calm down.”
Atticus leaned in the archway to the living room, arms folded, silver hair catching the light.
I huffed, bent to unlace my boots. “Would love to, but you’ve got my kids and my wife, and I kinda want them back.”
He didn’t move. “She started off pissed at your brother. Now she’s mad at you too. You know how she gets.”
My brow rose. “My brother. As in Sebastian?”
“Unless you’ve got another one I haven’t met.”
“What did Seb do?”
Atticus shrugged. “All I know is he and Mason fought. She didn’t feel the kids were safe. Called Leona crying. And ended up here.” He nodded toward Mason’s old bedroom. The one Leona had never changed, not even when Mason vanished to France for six years.
I tugged off my boots, sat back on the floor cross-legged. “Mason doesn’t think Sebastian, the guy who spends half his time building Legos with the kids, is safe to be around them?”
Another shrug. For a man who spent his life untangling human minds, he looked baffled by hers.
“Okay. How does that end with me being in trouble?”
He gave me the kind of look fathers reserve for disappointing sons. “You know what you did.”
“My dad checked out a decade ago, so if you could skip the cryptic bullshit, I’d appreciate it.”
“You don’t know?”
I shook my head.
He sighed, muttered something about me deserving to be yelled at, then let me pass. I didn’t bother asking again. Not worth it.
The door to Mason’s room was shut. I nudged it open with my foot, expecting her to be asleep in the narrow twin bed Leona thought would keep us out of trouble back then. But the bed held only Rosie, butt in the air, face mashed into the mattress.
Unsafe. My pulse spiked as I stumbled forward, arms out to scoop her up–
“Lucian Augustine Castillo, don’t you dare.”
Leona’s voice froze me. Full government name. Bad sign.
I turned. She was perched on a dining chair she'd dragged beside the bean bag Mason had always claimed was better than a bed. Curled into its violet fabric, bundled under weighted blankets, was my wife.
Leona smoothed Mason’s hair from her face. “She’s a good mom.”
The words landed strangely, but I nodded and reached again for the baby.
“I said, don’t you dare.” Louder now, sharper.
I glanced over my shoulder. She was glaring holes through me.
“That’s my kid. That’s my wife. I’m sorry Mason bugged you–”
Leona shot up and closed the space between us. Her whisper was venom. “Mason and the kids never bother me. You and Sebastian, on the other hand–”
“Okay, wait. What did I do?” I cut in, maybe stupidly.
Her eyes narrowed. “You really don’t know?”
I shook my head, heat prickling the back of my neck.
“When Mason gets worked up, she drives herself until she collapses. You know that. She’s got three kids, a job, and four partners—all of which I want to strangle.” She mimed wringing my neck, and I instinctively stepped back.
“Having her show up at my door distraught after a fight with Seb, pregnant—”
My heart stuttered. The word hit me harder than any glare could. For half a second, I forgot I was in trouble.
“She’s pregnant?” The grin slipped before I could stop it.
“Don’t you dare smile right now.” Leona’s voice cut like a hot blade through plastic. “She showed up exhausted, crying, overstimulated. Rosie’s only seven months old. Do you really think this is the time to be happy about another baby?”
Every excuse jammed in my throat. My hand slipped into my pocket, brushed the bag of pills hidden there.
Leona stepped closer. “You want to fix this? Sit down. Be quiet. Figure out how. But if you wake her up…” Her jaw flexed. “…I swear, Lucian, it’ll be the last time you ever set foot near her.”
I nodded, eyes locked on Mason. I understood what Leona said. But part of me still wondered how she would even know if I accidentally woke up Mason?