30. XXX
XXX
Echo
H ours passed as we cleared bodies and comatose prisoners, the mess time-consuming and methodical to sort.
“Echo, we’ve nearly finished loading up,” Tanner said, referring to the captives being transferred to the basement of my apartment building. Aster was there to receive them, ready to begin questioning. The rest of us had agreed to reconvene and debrief the next day (technically that day, considering the early hour).
I gave a nod, let him know I’d meet him at the exit, then went searching for my disappearing ghost.
Although the main area had been shut down, the rest of the club was still functioning as normal. Rumours were already circulating, however not proven and unfounded, which would remain so.
Spencer was missing again, deciding to explore and continue partying since the immediate threat was taken care of. It also didn’t go unnoticed that Remi was absent.
I tracked through the downers section, embellished lampshades barely providing enough light to weave through the shadowed cubicles. Due to the diluted atmosphere and private suites, people went to that area of Life Support for the lax ambiance. To chill if they were doped off their head… Or fuck, depending on one’s proclivities.
I rounded one of the more secluded booths and came up short. For the third time in one night, I was caught speechless.
Remi straddled the black-haired male I’d kicked out of the VIP booth earlier, both shirtless with their mouths fused together passionately as they dry-humped. Shaking out of my stupor, clear rage rattled my insides. How dare he do this to her.
Halting behind Remi’s back, I ran my fingers through his hair, then pulled hard on his roots, slamming him to the ground.
He sprang upward, ready to throw down…until he processed my presence, his flushed expression falling ever so slightly.
His kissing partner held no reservations, shoving against my shoulder with fury. “What. The. Fuck. Is your problem?” His chest was heaving, blue eyes bulging.
“ Fuck off, Alexander, before I make it your problem.”
“Alexander?” Remi asked. I sniggered. Of course the idiot doesn’t even know the guy’s name.
The man in question gave him a sneaky wink. “You can call me Alex.” Then, he narrowed his eyes on me. “Mr Oakview, to you.”
Remi choked, his ashen pallor whitening further as the blood drained from his face. I couldn’t help but chuckle. What are the fucking chances? Now that it had come to light, he did have a striking resemblance with his old man.
“Apologies, Mr Oakview,” I said. “It seems you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a fuck.”
Alexander stalled, expectant gaze shifting over Remi, whose stare drilled a hole into the ground, refusing to say a word after the miraculous new finding. Does this idiot not realise there was a literal massacre that occurred a couple of rooms over? Geez, what a fucking mess.
“If you want him, you can book him at Playhouse,” I said to Alexander. “But he's mine tonight.” Remi shifted out of his comatose state, murderous intent radiating off him in waves as he looked on the verge of tackling me to the ground.
Alexander hesitated before grabbing Remi’s hand, then, my patience dissolved alongside everything else. I triggered my Variant, letting my next words pierce over his exposed flesh. “ Leave before I fucking kill you .”
Taking the threat for what it was, Alexander spared one last longing glance towards his new lover and hightailed it out of there.
As soon as he was out of sight, Remi shoved me back. “Why’d you offer me up like that? I can’t—his father—he’s an Oakview, for fuck’s sake!”
Rapid-fast, my hand braced his throat, cutting off his airway. “I don’t care if you’ve fucked his daddy. Hell, I don’t even care that you killed him. All I care about is Spencer, and you’re fucking playing her. That’s not something you do to someone you love.” I finished by pushing him back into the seat.
Remi appeared shaken, but the high of his drugs must have peaked as he began to laugh. Not a little nervous chuckle, either—he legitimately curled over in a cackle of uncontrollable giggles. The mocking strain pushed me over the edge.
I punched him in the face…multiple times. I didn’t know the exact number, but it was enough to leave me breathless. Remi didn’t fight back. He just laid there, and took my assault as payment. I didn’t like the sensation, my fists pounding into what felt like softened meat that was already dead.
Once I sobered, Remi stared up at me with his battered face and cut lip. Without missing a beat, he spat blood at my shoes. “And what do you know of love, Echo?”
There it was—that four-letter word again. Haunting me, fucking chasing me into oblivion, where I wanted to escape.
Despite my inner turmoil, Remi continued, shattering each piece of me with each scathing word. “The only love you’ve ever felt in your measly existence, you stomped down, stuck a knife in its heart and watched the blood pour out of the wound until that love didn’t exist at all.” Remi stood (a little shakily), leaning into my face, never deviating his attention. “How does it feel to know that, despite your best efforts to destroy it, that love ended up on your doorstep?”
His truths caused pain to ricochet through my body, and my hand unintentionally raised to tighten over his windpipe so I didn’t have to hear more.
Instead, I taped that down and gave him some truth in return. “She trusts you. She loves you, ” I managed to splutter, the words a brand, burning up my throat.
“Yes, she loves me. But not the way I love her,” he spat, the words vicious and raw. He slumped as if defeated, completely crushed.
I was stumped, unable to fathom the inkling of warmth that sparked to life inside me. Then, it hit me… He looks like me. Fucking miserable.
Remi shuffled past, gearing for the exit. “You don’t deserve her. You never will deserve her. But can you at least stop being a pathetic asshole and fucking try?!”
The image of them kissing flashed in my mind. That wasn’t fake; their connection was genuine. Overcome, I submitted defeat. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you… Like she’d do anything to have you.”
“Only because you haven’t caught her looking back at you ,” Remi said, with a specific melancholy tone. Before he could turn the last corner, he gave me one last glance, his defeated expression transforming into one of pity. Pity for me.
SPENCER
Emerson and I had ventured into the downer section, lazing behind a deserted bar. My legs swung free from the high stool as I popped a lollipop in my mouth, hoping the sugar would give me enough energy to last a bit longer. The fight had chased the high from my system, a headache brewing as I came down from the drugs and adrenalin.
Emerson sat beside me, trying and failing to pour herself another drink. She missed—again. Alcohol was my ammo, not hers, inebriation taking her unawares. Two drinks down, and she was a blubbering mess, proven by her useless attempts to fight alongside us earlier.
Watching her spill another glass, I finally took pity on my lightweight sister and swiped the bottle from her hand, declaring my verdict.
“That’s enough for you, Meek.”
Emerson pouted, her hazy blue eyes bright against the crimson droplets that stained her face and hair. The fake blood from the midnight spray of the DJ and the real blood from our victims—soaking us all in glowing red. She looked like a deranged horror girl and I was here for it, her image finally fitting her persona.
Her head kept on bobbing around, gaze shifting as if trying to catch something she couldn’t see, her brows pinching together.
“Don’t hate me,” she said, barely loud enough to hear.
“As if that’s possible. I know you. ”
“You don’t know me.” She shook her head, rubbing her sternum, which was a nervous tell. One I hadn’t seen her do for years.
The subconscious motion began when she refused the Sovereign tattoo on her sixteenth birthday. I’m sure it had something to do with our dad, but the one time I asked, Emerson lost her absolute shit. So, I never mentioned it again.
We all had our own issues, our own trauma to overcome or lock away into a metal box, never to be seen again. Either way, I was a product of my fucked up past, just like the rest. We all just wanted to survive.
All of a sudden, I desperately wished Micah was there. She was the one good with feelings. Sure, not her own, but she at least had a handle on others’.
Chucking my lollipop to the side, I inhaled deeply and took a chance. “You ever going to tell us why you still refuse to get the crown tattoo?”
Quiet. Then, her angelic voice gave me an answer. “Dad thought I wasn’t worthy.”
My lips pulled back as anger swept through me. “Who gives a fuck about what that sperm donor thought, Meek? He had a fucking ego complex, and at that time, you didn’t have a Variant, which is all he cared about. If only he saw you now, the most powerful of us all. He’d probably cream in his pants… Or in another woman, knocking her up too.” Emerson laughed. “If he was still here, you’d be the golden child instead of Chase.”
She deflated at my words, an inward, pained look gracing her features.
Fuck this. I loved everything about my eldest sister, and she loved us in return. Chase wouldn’t want us living a lifestyle our loser father tried to instil in us.
With a huff, I bumped my shoulder with hers. “I didn’t mean that’s how worth is measured. Oliver King was a self-obsessed asshole. He literally had four kids so he could dose them up with his amplifier sperm, making superhero babies. He isn’t the criteria we should strive to meet.”
Emerson sighed. “Yet, everything we are comes from him.” Is she serious? My poor, lost sister. He really did a number on her.
I scoffed. “You give him too much credit. He was a narcissist obsessed with power. And look where it got him. Fucking dead! His love was always conditional, and even then, I don’t think he ever knew what love was. We are the Sovereign now, Meek. And with that, you need to take the permanent ink to mark you as so!”
Emerson let my statement sink in, then, after a minute, she shook out of her stupor, claiming she was going to find the others.
And when she walked away, I heard her whisper something under her breath, so gentle I almost missed it. “If only you knew.”
I sagged forward, laying my head over my arms across the counter. Did I just manage to fuck all of that up?
Exhaustion pulled at my mind, my feet ached in my stiletto heels and home was calling.
But where is home?
A spike of apprehension registered. I hadn’t told my siblings about stabbing Echo. Although they knew something had happened, they didn’t pry, instead choosing to ignore my volatile state and distracting me with everything the night had to offer. I missed their presence immensely, and I knew they would use any excuse to convince me to come back to them.
However, without my knowledge or my wanting, Echo’s apartment gradually began to feel like home over time. It became the safe space I craved and longed to return to. Or maybe it was the person that resided there? However, Echo had demolished that sentiment with his harsh words and cruel lies.
My eyes lapsed shut to get some semblance of rest when a sentient spark inflamed my senses. It’s like there was a light inside of me that pulsated and ignited from his very presence. The lost sensation when he wasn’t near was entirely useless and damn irritating.
Why does my body scream out for him? And why does his very being call out for mine in return? Because I was the biggest fucking fool in the world. That’s why.