9. Rook
The stenchof grimy salt and sea water burned my nostrils, and the deafening chorus of crickets and frogs was a thunderous cacophony in my ears. A shiver ran down my spine as I heard something ominously slithering beneath me.
I continued deeper into the swamp, each step causing an eerie suctioning sound as I made my way through the murky waters and towards the looming plantation home ahead.
It was Friday.
Dark thoughts swirled through me like ravenous vultures, and yet, hope hung in the air like a carrot, dangling before the ass—me—that Garrett was right, and Saul would meet his favorite mistress here.
Grabbing the bag strapped to my back, I held it high over my head to keep it from getting wet, my eyes on the sole source of light a half mile away. I stumbled as my leg sunk into the hidden depth of the swamp and I threw an arm out to keep my balance, growling in frustration.
Approaching on foot through the swamp was the only way to arrive undetected, and at this point, I would do almost anything to eliminate the man responsible for killing my nana.
I didn’t envy his life—living in fear that someone would kill you at any moment. If I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps, on the constant run for my life, I would have to be very careful about this.
No one could know it was me.
Finally reaching my destination, I managed a decent job of cleaning myself, using the supplies in my backpack, and put on the waiter uniform.
Ironwood Manor was the home of one of Greybone’s founding fathers—now a combination of a restaurant, its menu filled with fresh catch from the local area, and a boutique hotel.
Since I didn’t know what time Saul might arrive, I waited in an unused room, settling in by a window facing the front driveway. As I lay in wait, my thoughts, once again, drifted to Summer.
And those photos—fuck me, so different from the childlike ones in Douglass’ home.
Older. More mature.
Stunning.
Naturally sensual in a way most women her age hadn’t acquired.
It made my cock hard every time I fantasized exploring every inch of her skin, and I despised myself for it.
Sucking taut and pebbled nipples.
Luscious lips wrapped around my dick.
My cock slamming against the back of her throat. My hand fisting her hair.
And yet, what kind of man daydreamed about fucking his best friend’s daughter?
A sick and depraved fuck, that’s who.
And yet, I was that man.
Because I wanted to tie her to my bed and fuck her until she screamed my name.
Gritting my teeth, I wrestled with my thoughts. Forcing myself to focus on my purpose—my whole reason for living.
I was here for revenge.
To kill Saul and move on.
With this thought, anticipation surged through my veins, an electrifying mix of excitement and satisfaction. The moment to avenge my grandma”s death was here.
As the seconds ticked away, I thought of the day my nana had come into my life.
The night had been stale and hot, as often the Vegas nights are, unlike the sweaty humidity of the South. As soon as I”d heard the male voices coming from the living room of our trailer, I”d dashed from the bathroom to my room, locking the door behind me.
I”d learned the hard way that men and women, drugged out on both heroin, alcohol, and other things, sometimes stumbled into the wrong room, looking for the bathroom.
I”d opened my window, hoping it would cool the heat blazing through our metal trailer, but it had only let in the sounds of the night. The drunken party next door, the annoying yip from the Chihuahua tied to their front porch, a couple arguing up the street. So I’d shut it, along with my curtains.
Then the booming sound of music from my living room was the only thing I could hear for the next four hours.
I crawled in my bed, pulling my only blanket over my head, wishing I had those fancy headphones that would block out noises, knowing I wouldn”t get much sleep.
And yet, somehow I did, waking up a few hours later, needing to pee.
However, the radio was still blasting, and I shifted uncomfortably for the next two hours, trying my best to hold it in.
When I couldn”t wait any longer, I crept towards the door. Finally relieving myself, I noticed a bright light coming through the small bathroom window.
It was day time.
I scowled, flushing the toilet and washing my hands with cheap, dollar store soap.
Usually by now, my mom and her friends had all fallen asleep, someone usually turning off the radio some time during the night.
As I opened the door, peeking through it, my heart began to tumble in my chest.
I had a bad feeling that something was very wrong.
It wasn”t the first time I”d felt like this.
My mom lived on the edge of danger—often bringing strange and violent men into our home, in search of her next high.
I”d woken to them beating her, or her lying in a pool of her own blood with her teeth knocked out.
We barely had any furniture, because it was so often destroyed in drunken and drug fueled fights.
I crept down the hallway, my heart in my throat, fear making my body shake.
The music only got louder, with the interruption of a DJ’s voice blaring in my ears as I rounded the corner into the living room.
”Good morning, this fine summer day! It”s gonna be a scorcher as the high is expected to reach well over a hundred and—” I didn”t hear the rest as the roar in my ears was louder than anything else.
What had sounded like a lively group last night was now only a party of two—my mom, and some guy I”d never seen before.
He was lying on the floor in his underwear, though they were halfway down his thighs, with his limp dick dirty with his sticky, white cum. He was lying face up, his mouth open, drool draining from his lips.
He was passed out.
My mom was on the couch, lying face down. I could smell the vomit from here. She wasn”t moving.
I could only stare at them in shock until, finally, I forced my feet forward, the sound from the blaring radio too loud.
I shut it off, still staring at my mother”s chest, willing it to move.
When it didn”t, I timidly stepped over the man lying on the floor, hating the way his scraggly beard had traces of white powder and small bits of chip crumbs. I could smell the alcohol he”d spilled on his plaid shirt from where I stood.
Keeping an eye on him, I made my way to my mom. Afraid he would jump up and attack me, I finally made it to the couch.
She still wasn”t moving.
Eyes wide, I leaned over, my heart pounding, pounding, fear closing off my throat. I could barely move as I pressed two fingers to her neck.
I waited.
There was no movement.
I held my breath, my chest tight with anticipation.
Nothing.
The fear crawled up my chest to my mouth, my own vomit of stomach acid lurching up my throat. I grit my teeth, willing it down.
Gathering all my strength, I pushed her on to her side. She was wearing a bra and no underwear. Her face was pale, too pale, her lips blue, vomit covering her lips and chin.
With trembling fingers, I reached and took the phone at her side, calling the one number I”d ever memorized.
After two rings, a warm and familiar voice picked up. “Tanya?”
”Nana?” I hated the way my voice shook.
”Rook, what”s wrong?”
”Nana. I need you.”
Lights flashing down the long drive ripped me from the memory and I jumped to my feet. Grabbing the binoculars, I peered through the windows.
It was a gray Lincoln—Veritas vehicle. So, Garrett had been useful, after all.
The sight of it sent a thrill through me that made my heart pound almost as loudly as it had that terrible day.
Except now, it was filled with the excitement of finally being able to exact my revenge.
Saul had been the man responsible for my nana’s death, and he was about to pay for it with his life.
I patiently waited until he would have entered and been seated, then made my way quietly down the stairs, the sounds of a lively and fully staffed kitchen growing louder. Moving stealthily past it, I peered around the corner from the back hallway, looking for him.
Satisfaction filled me at the sight of him, dressed in a tuxedo. As always, Harrison sat next to him, ever the obedient son.
Saul’s mini alligator—bred specially to be a smell pet—was in his lap, his mouth tied shut with a custom leather and buckled strap to keep him from biting Saul.
He was stroking the poor, chained thing, his attention divided between the food on his plate and the woman at his side.
She was young and petite, with dark olive skin and long black hair.
They sat next to the wall of windows, and you could barely see the dark billowing ocean beyond, with the sky full of bright stars. Lanterns flickered in the background and a man with a violin played at their table, the mournful sounds from it beckoning me close.
I could taste my revenge on my tongue, almost metallic, like blood.
The woman laughed, placing a hand on his arm and scooting closer, but I could see from the stiffness of her shoulders that she was faking it.
Probably scared for her life, or of someone she loved. Though you never knew.
Most people, as Garrett proved, fell for the pretty facade of the Veritas, only to discover the truth too late.
I ran all the scenarios in my mind, having prepared for every possible one. I could simply walk in and shoot him, but that created too many witnesses—innocent loose ends. Plus, although I couldn’t see them, his security was likely close by. The bathroom was an option, if he went.
He might keep the mistress here overnight, but waiting could mean I might lose my opportunity if he left.
Poison was the quietest, although it might involve members of the staff. Making the decision, I took a step backwards and into the darkness when suddenly, I felt a sharp point at my neck. ”Hello, Rook.”
I froze.
It had been a long time since anyone had snuck up on me.
I recognized the voice belonging to Maxon Moreau, Saul”s sentinel, or head of security.
”Maxon.”
”I thought you might be here tonight.”
“Ho—” I bit down on my tongue, my mind racing.
”Your sudden donation to the Magnolia caught my interest,” he answered me anyway, “and I knew your little spy wouldn’t hold back.”
So I was right. The information from Scarlett was planted—to reveal my intent.
I was fucked.Now they knew I was after Saul.
Maxon was going to kill me.
Thinking quickly, I took a chance. ”I”ve been watching you, as well,” I nodded towards the gun I now had pointed at him. “You hate the Veritas. You”re dying to escape it.”
”How would you know that?” he growled as he shoved me against the wall, the knife still against my throat. He peered down at me through his glasses, a sneer on his face. “You think you know my weakness? You, just the poor little orphan boy who never fit in. Always on the outside, looking in. Isn’t that right?”
His words hit me in the chest, gutting me, but I put up my wall, mentally blocking the emotion out. I was tall, but he was taller—even so, I met his gaze with determination. “I can do something for you. Help you get out.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was dangerously low, and it made my pulse quicken.
”Why else would you be assigned as Saul”s sentinel? A job too low level for you? It’s a punishment.” He didn’t kill me, so I took that as a signal to keep going. “I also can”t help but see how your eyes wander when that young, innocent Maiden wanders through the masquerade parties.”
Maidens were women raised in the Veritas. They were chosen at birth to become the brides of men of high rank in the society.
”If you touch her...” The knife suddenly dug into my skin, his voice a low bark. Pain shot through me, a gush of warmth draining down my neck. The fucker had cut me.
I dug my gun into his side, a warning. He could slice me open, but I would bring him down with me. I growled out, ”If you know anything about me, you know that I have no interest in Veritas women.”
“That’s only because you’re afraid to let anyone in. Besides, you can’t help me. She’s promised to my son.”
“And yet, I see how you look at her.”
“I should kill you right now.”
“Are you willing to die for that man?” I couldn’t hide the disgust from my voice.
“I’m supposed to take a bullet for him.”
“You hate him as much as I do. Get out of my way, and I’ll make it worthwhile for you.”
There was a long pause. Then, “Say your prayers, motherfucker.”
Desperate, I pushed him. “I can give you something he won’t.”
“What would you have to offer me?”
“You tell me.”
There was a long moment as he stared into my face, trying to read me. I could see the savage beast in his eyes, waiting to be released. And yet, there was no expression on his face, no signal that he wouldn’t strike, killing me before I had a chance to even pull the trigger. The tension inside me was coiled tight, waiting for any sign of violence.
Time stretched like old taffy.
Then suddenly, he moved, taking a step back. I almost fell forward in relief.
His face was cold, his eyes hard. “Leave. Never return, or I will kill you.”
I… I was clueless as to why he didn’t kill me, or what his underlying motivations were. If he was going to take me up on my offer, or just decided to be lenient.
I also didn’t wait for him to change his mind.
Keeping my gun trained on him, I stepped back into the dark hallway, retreating quickly. When I was almost to the door, he called out. “You may pretend not to care, but I know your weakness, too. The girls.”
I stilled, my hand on the knob. I was going to kill this fucker. Was he personally going to go after them now? As a way to punish me? “What about them?” I snarled. “You want to die tonight?”
“Their inheritance is gone.”
My lips parted in surprise. How was that possible?
And why the fuck was he giving up this information?
I waited in silence to see if he would tell me more, but he just stared at me with a dark, menacing look. I met his gaze with a fierce one of my own, a warning—the girls were under my protection.
Then, when I knew he understood, I left out the back door, fleeing towards the woman I couldn’t stop thinking about.