23. XXIII
XXIII
Spencer
A ster had given me access to her penthouse, a private setting for our business meeting with my siblings, the Sovereign.
As I rode the elevator, I caught myself staring at my reflection in the mirrored doors. I appeared the very epitome of a motherfucking girl boss—impenetrable armour to hide what had just transpired with Echo.
Ignoring the hurt between my thighs and the ache in my chest, I’d washed away his scent with a scathing hot shower. And as each sexy piece of fabric was added to my body, each reverent moment we shared was locked away behind a barrier.
Sure, I talked a big game, but something had changed between us.
Echo saved me.
I had been in a frozen chokehold, sitting on that windowsill, my fear of heights completely taken over. I had no doubt that I would have perished in those flames rather than jump out that window.
Echo ran into a burning building for me. Took my fears and protected me, guarded me against the fall, taking the brunt of the impact to ensure my safety.
What other explanation could there be?
He saved my life. Which had me conflicted.
Our step into sex also didn’t help. We shared a moment…a feeling. One I’d never felt before.
I shuddered from aversion. Maybe I was dickmatised, as Remi so aptly put it.
With one selfless act and a mind-blowing fuck, the stakes had irrevocably tallied higher. Was I willing to gamble it all? Wager my revenge and pain for something I may never win?
I shook my head, not ready nor prepared to deconstruct that orgasmic inducing calamity.
As the doors opened, I called out, “ASTER!?” No reply came as my voice rang through the empty apartment.
With a shrug, I entered her kitchen, placed my lopsided cake on the bench, then rummaged through the fridge, drinking straight from the milk carton like the fiend I was. Looking around, my eyes catalogued each and every piece in her extravagant, high-end home. Despite her cold-blooded, bitchy front, Aster had substance, her unique decor portraying something deeper.
I always knew the measure of someone based on their private space. Clean? Dirty? Hidden treasures? You’re only your true self when you’re by yourself…and Aster lived alone.
A dominant smirk lifted as I swiped the milk moustache from my upper lip. She should have known better than to give me access to her domain and not be there to supervise.
I rifled through her home, finding nothing but weird, antique, collectable bullshit. The last remaining area was her bedroom. My hand lingered on the door handle with a split second of reservation that burnt to ash as I peeked inside. Again, blame Chase.
It was the most personalised area of the apartment, unkempt and messy as fuck—entirely different to the Aster shown to the world. Clothes were strewn everywhere and candles riddled every surface, hardened melted wax permanently moulded to the wood. Amongst the rest was priceless make-up, perfume and various other trinkets I didn’t bother to riffle through.
After some digging, I found nothing of substance until I came across the full-length mirror mounted to the wall. A two-way, upon first inspection…which meant there was something hidden behind.
With some minor trifling, I was able to shimmy it open, displaying a dark, narrow walk-in wardrobe. I was disappointed with the hidden compartment—easy enough to find by a toddler, let alone an assassin like me.
I guess being the head of one of the most renowned crime organisations in the city had its perks. Including the fake assurance that someone wouldn’t waltz into your home and go through all your shit, purely based on the threat of dismemberment and death alone. A shame for her, since those dangers never registered with me.
I found the usual—multiple weapons, numerous identities, thick wads of cash. All of it pretty generic and boring, really… Until I reached a worn photo album, haphazardly shoved to the side.
Inside were letters—long-winded love letters, which made me pause. The same title was addressed at the top of each and every one, Sister. It’s like the person who’d written them had plucked the exact words from my brain, expressing precisely how I felt about my own siblings. The tone and the way they were written… Vulnerable, intimate, tender.
As I came to the last page, there were two printed photos face down. I flipped the first, the air catching in my lungs from immediate shock. Staring back at me were two beautiful young females, hugging in a close embrace, obviously related based purely on their physical similarities.
The first was Aster, bald head shining bright in the sun. Then, my eyes flipped to the second. Red hair like mine. Green eyes like mine. Her entire fucking face… EXACTLY. LIKE. MINE.
With shaking fingers, my muscles moved on autopilot as I flipped the last remaining photo.
There stood my father, fondly cradling the redhead— grinning . His expression was foreign as it was a rare experience to ever see him smile, let alone appear somewhat happy. But that was not the most difficult shock to process, as his hand gently rested on the woman’s protruding abdomen—which was heavily pregnant.
I was… shook .
Aside from my father and his former wife conceiving Chase, the rest of us sisters didn’t know our origins. Had no idea who donated their fertilised eggs to the greater cause of Oliver King and his crackpot ideas.
Either way, our history didn’t matter. Although I had conflicting feelings about my father, he had ultimately given me my sisters. Which was the sole reason I couldn’t bring myself to hate him completely.
Due to my emotional instability from those disturbing findings, I’d missed the signs. Until I was caught.
“WHAT THE FU—” The sound of Aster’s blasting screech irrevocably snapped my last remaining rational thought, cutting through to the unfiltered, unhinged, real Spencer.
My hand automatically grasped onto the closest available pistol as I spun and pointed the barrel directly between her eyes—those red fucking devil eyes that shimmered with unshed tears as they processed the photos between my fingers.
“Uh-uh, demon lady. I don’t want you to say another word.” I cocked the gun, the click resounding loud and clear between us like an admission. I was balancing on the edge, so close to pulling the damn trigger and leaving it all out on her bedroom floor between us. She couldn’t affect me if she was dead.
Instead of retreating, the dumb bitch stepped forward with an outstretched hand as if to touch me. “Spencer, it’s not what you thin?—”
Bang. A bullet tore straight through Aster’s palm, which she swiftly cradled to her chest, blood seeping into her dress. She didn’t scream or react, but her eyes bled with emotion that I was too far gone to recognise.
“I don’t want your lies!” I screamed, the gun trained back on her stupid face. “I don’t want to hear a single fucking poisoned word from that venomous tongue.” I pitched forward so she could read my violent intent with every line of my body, then my gaze lasered in on her injury. “That was a warning… and you only get one .”
Then, a calming voice cut into my chaotic mess of a mind, calling me back to reality. “Ghost, what’s going on?” Echo slipped into the room, hands raised with an open expression. “Spencer, focus on me. Tell me what you need.” It was the way he said my name, unashamed and tinged with something more . “Anything, Spencer. Tell me what you need. ”
I couldn’t see past her lies without my sisters. I couldn’t see past my own anger and betrayal without their presence.
Echo shuffled closer, his tall frame blocking my view of the witch behind him. “Anything.”
My lungs heaved as the last remaining air left my body. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice from the foyer as if a little golden fairy godmother heard my internal screams and granted me my wish.
“Spencer?” Tanner called my name.
ECHO
I had just arrived at Aster’s apartment when I heard a gunshot. Barging through the entrance, I instantly sensed the charged tension all the way from the elevator, Spencer’s shout alerting me to her position. Terror swept through me at the unknown, at what I would find.
Then I saw the panic in her green eyes, her shaking form, and the image fucking wrecked me. Something monumental had taken place before my arrival.
For the first time, I was torn. My brain told me to protect Aster, yet my heart screamed for me to go to Spencer. Covet, comfort, defend her.
The clash of emotions had me reeling. Until Tanner stormed through the door with the ire of a raging tornado, smoky brown stare lasered on Aster with the clear intent to maim and kill.
Which I couldn’t let happen.
I stepped in his way. “Back off. Let’s talk.”
He didn’t hesitate, instead hit out in quick succession. Tanners strikes were fucking lethal, heavy and exact in their deliverance. However, I gave back in kind.
We brutally exchanged blows, fists hitting flesh, kicks striking with throbbing contact. I may have fought dirty by utilising all manner of rubbish littered throughout Aster’s room, pegging that shit at his pretty boy face, which he seemed to dodge at super speed.
When a sudden shriek came from the side and in my periphery, I could make out Spencer dragging a comatose Aster to the living room by her ankles.
Tanner used the advantage of my distraction to smash a glass candle to the side of my head, the weight of the impact knocking me out cold alongside my mistress.
I regained consciousness sprawled on the couch, perusing the room in silence. Aster sat in an armchair opposite me, clutching her bandaged hand to her chest while Tanner stood sentry. His freaky aura bled mortality as he watched us without uttering a word, awaiting the rest of their family to arrive.
Spencer paced the lounge area with the intensity of a caged lion, pistol twitching in her palm as if she were resisting using it.
She was a breathtaking creature to behold.
To think I ever had a chance against a formidable foe like that… Yeah, I was deluding myself.
Spencer had fucking made me relinquish all three of my sacred laws that I had never broken. For anyone.
No kissing. No bareback. No repeats.
Fuck. When it came to her, those useless rules may as well not have existed at all.
That mind-altering intimacy had switched something inside me. Which made me simultaneously wary, frustrated and fucking horny.
I had been fighting against her for so long that she crept up on me, that entirely too late she meant… more .
Her red hair whipped around her, demanding my attention as she continued to rage. That was probably the wrong time to think that she looked so fucking sexy with her tight jeans and tee. The material accentuated her luscious curves that I couldn’t help thinking of the way she felt around my cock, her pulsating cunt milking me of all my cum. And when she was so unhinged like that … Saints!
Is she wet? Can she still feel me inside her?
Adjusting my growing length, I shifted my attention to the woman responsible for the mess.
“What the fuck have you done?” I asked Aster. She narrowed her eyes, posture stiff, sporting a serene expression. She wasn’t giving anything away. To the outside world, she appeared well-composed and put together. Although, I could tell by the slight tremor of her fingers or the way she tracked Spencer that she was in crisis mode.
The elevator doors dinged at the rest of the Kings’ arrival, Micah leading the way as Emerson and Psycho followed close behind. Even a tiny chihuahua strutted into the room with an air of arrogance, a snarl freely grumbling from his jaw as his tiny head whipped from left to right.
The two sisters beelined for Spencer while Psycho slumped onto the armrest next to me.
“Did you forget my promise, Echo?” Tanner asked, his tone creepy as fuck. “Cause I intend to follow through. I’m going to fucking gut you for this.”
The three sisters pitched their attention towards his delightful statement while that tiny, ugly dog sat between my legs, teeth bared as if he was going to rip off my gonads. I covered my dick with both hands, cringing at the feral beast.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on. I know as much as you do,” I replied, clearly talking to the Kings, now lined directly in front of me. One brown, one blonde and one redhead. Each entirely individual, yet with them huddled so close, their genetic relation was undeniable. Subtle mannerisms, minute feature similarities—not to mention the heavy atmosphere they all permeated like they were the harbingers of death.
I grit my teeth, holding my hands up in surrender, and pinpointed all my focus on Spencer. “I swear, I don’t know anything. I don’t even know what’s happened, Ghost.”
Spencer didn’t reply, instead turning to Micah for some type of confirmation. Micah didn’t even twitch, the only movement coming from her eyes that probed me from top to bottom. She was a whole bag of joy, that one. How the hell Psycho got his rocks off by fucking a robot was beyond me… Or maybe that’s what his crazy, unstable ass required.
As soon as the idea processed, her brows lifted and I saw the corner of her lips jerk ever so slightly. Turning back to Spencer, she spared a faint nod. Thank fuck.
Then, all three women shifted as one, their sole attention dragging towards the leader of Vice, who remained poised in the corner. I almost sighed in relief when they took that unrelenting pressure with them—so potent and powerful, I rubbed my sternum from the ache. The tiny dog followed their lead, turning on the new identified threat, his gigantic balls swinging from the sudden motion.
Emerson swaggered around the opposite side of the armchair, approaching Aster’s back, caging her in. “Spill.” Her previous angelic persona had completely disappeared.
Spencer appeared secure around her siblings, her tremors subsiding—except for her face. She still looked livid beyond belief.
“Tell us who she is,” Spencer said, holding up two photos. Just from a glance, I could already tell how incriminating they were.
“Holy shit!” Psycho yelped before snatching the photos out of Spencer’s grip. “I thought you said you didn’t know who your mother was?” he added, his gaze bouncing from the smiling female in the picture and her identical apparition standing right in front of us.
“I didn’t. Until I found those in Aster’s room.”
My mistress snickered, which slowly transitioned into a fit of giggles. Every pair of eyes drilled into her, the environment wired with malevolent friction that could snap at the slightest provocation.
I sat dumbstruck, legitimately worried that her mind had shattered and she’d lost the plot. I had never seen her like that.
Fuck. Hopefully, we make it out of this alive.