Chapter 16
Hux's shoulders bunch with every step he takes toward the mansion.
The level of rage coursing through him hasn't cooled off since we left the administrative building, and he hasn't uttered a word since we started our trek through campus. I know once we’re in the safety of our home, he’ll explode and open up.
But for now, I eat up the silence between us until we're striding up the walkway toward our home.
It towers above us. The gargoyles perched along the roofline of our gothic-style home look down on us with varying degrees of facial expressions.
Some snarl, showing their sharp teeth, and some leer with hollow eyes, sending shivers down my spine.
They’re a fascinating creation meant to ward off the evils of the world. Only here, they add to the unease I feel every time I’m in their presence. Like they’re watching me. Spies from another dimension.
“So,” I hold out the word as he slams through the double doors of our home, marching through the foyer, and straight into the open-concept kitchen.
The refrigerator door slams open, clinking the condiments around, as he searches for a frosty beer hidden on the second shelf.
He slams it shut, cracks the top of the beer, gulping down several mouthfuls of the liquid until it's gone, and throws it into the recycling without saying a word. His dark gaze doesn’t stray to me as I stand there, waiting for him to answer.
"Hux?" I question again slowly, like I’m speaking to a wounded animal backed into a corner.
Hux leans his hands on the granite-countertop island, spreading his fingers out and heaving in breaths. It’s been many years since I’ve seen this type of reaction from Hux.
“I need out of that,” he grunts, finally lifting his head.
His red-rimmed gaze meets mine, and I nearly stumble back at the emotions screaming at me through his eyes.
Something I haven't seen in a very long time. But I hold my ground. For Hux. “I can’t do that with her.” He shakes his head, groaning with frustration.
Frustration, I completely understand. Before I can open my mouth to ask more questions, the front door slams open, revealing Mack’s sweat-soaked bare chest, damp blond hair, and tiny running shorts, followed by a panting Waffles trailing after him in search of his water bowl.
Poor old dog. I’m surprised he’s able to keep up with Mack’s intense pace every day.
“You really don’t leave anything to the imagination, do you?” I quip about his outfit, earning a snarl and a middle finger.
I wasn’t the only one who wilted away the moment we learned about Olivia’s death.
We all did. Hux uses violence to sate his pain.
Mack runs himself to death and makes reckless decisions.
He also uses violence to sate whatever demon lives in him.
And me? Well, I hide myself from the world.
What’s the point of existing in a world where the sun doesn’t shine anymore?
We’re a miserable mess.
“Fuck off,” Mack grunts, bursting into the kitchen and pulling out a water bottle from the fridge and a container of grapes.
He sets them on the counter and stares down at Waffles melting into the floor.
“Need some water, Old Man?” he questions playfully, picking up his water bowl and filling it.
But not before adding a few ice cubes–Waffles' favorite.
Waffles groans when he picks himself off the floor and lopes to his fresh water, taking several long licks.
“You good?” I ask, looking Mack up and down until he levels me with a glare that could puncture through my skull. “I’ll take that as a no.”
“It’s always a fucking no,” Mack grits out, shoving the stool back and plopping down with a huff.
“Welcome to the fucking club.” Hux shakes his head, looking slightly lighter.
He blows out a breath when Waffles trots up to him with renewed energy, spilling water from the end of his tongue.
Hux doesn’t hesitate to reach down and rub his head a few times.
No doubt calming the raging storm inside him.
Waffles is the only living thing that could approach Hux when he’s too angry to form words and live to tell about it.
Waffles takes his pets and slowly looks around the room. I swear, some days he’s looking for Liv, despite her passing away five years ago. It’s like he expects her to walk through the door and hug him like she used to.
“Waffles!” she squeals, marching through the front door and grinning when he comes running with a woof. “Good to see you, boy,” she murmurs, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around his body.
“Sometimes I think she loves the dog more than us,” Mack quips, walking into the living room and wiping the sweat from his face after a leisurely jog around town. He never pushes himself too hard, just enough to exercise for the Water Polo season.
Olivia’s glare blasts through us, and she huffs, kissing Waffles’ head. “You’re funny,” she says sarcastically. “Of course I love the dog, but not as much as you three.” Her cheeks heat when the words fall from her lips, but she doesn’t backpedal.
“We love you too, Buttercup. Now, come on. Let’s eat some dinner while Daddy Franco is out policing the casino.”
"So, what did Amanda do this time?" Besides annoying him to the point of insanity. Obviously.
"We could murder her," Mack pipes in, shoving a grape into his mouth. Hux side-eyes him with a frown. "What? You act like it hasn't happened before."
"Yeah? And what would Franco say?" Hux raises a brow.
"He'd say. Oh, well. I'll find a new alliance for my business," Mack says nonchalantly, like the alliance between Amanda and Huxley hasn’t been carefully planned and executed by Franco and Mr. Devalle. There’s too much money and too much time invested in the two of them to not bring their businesses together.
"More like he'd have our heads. You know that's his ticket into the big times," I mumble, sitting beside Mack. My nose wrinkles. "You need a shower."
Mack scoffs, forcefully shoving another grape into his mouth. "That's the smell of fitness victory," he rumbles, curling his arm and showing off his thick muscles. "Besides, I'm getting ready for Friday and the season."
"It can't come soon enough," Hux grits out. "I'm going to beat that motherfucker’s ass." Something haunting lights up in his dark eyes, flashing quickly.
"You're really going to take on that giant motherfucker?" Mack asks through several grapes in his mouth before swallowing them almost whole.
Hux levels Mack with a glare. "Why wouldn't I? He challenged me. I'm not going to back down. Besides, he needs his fucking face rearranged." For many reasons that Hux won’t be willing to discuss. “Would you not take on your fucking brother?”
Mack stiffens, swallowing his mouthful of grapes. “I’d never back down from that fucking fight.” Hux throws his hands in the air as to say–see, motherfucker?
Speaking of Malic… I nod, putting my elbows on the countertop. "You heard from her?" Every motion in the house stops, and I swear a pin could be heard dropping.
They all know the her I'm referring to. Meredith. It’s where we were going before Amanda called.
We’ll keep trying to find any sign of her, but we’re losing hope.
It’s been over a week since anyone has spoken to her or seen her face.
We’re hoping she’s lying low somewhere, keeping out of sight.
Even her brother is getting concerned, and he doesn’t seem to have any sort of feelings.
But we can only hold out hope for so long before, internally, we know something awful happened.
“No.” Hux’s jaw flexes at the mention of her. I know he’s blaming himself for whatever happened. If something bad happened. It was their plan together. Her idea. Hux will carry this on his shoulders for eternity if we don’t find her alive.
“We’ll find her.” I try to sound reassuring, but even I’m feeling doubts about my claims. Will we find her?
Alive? Dead? She’s not a part of this world.
Or the other. She was out, living her dreams, but suspected something, and instead of going to her brother, she came to us for help because she was too afraid Malic was in on whatever was happening.
“It’s the Shades,” she says, shaking her head. “It has to be them. It has to be…”
“Is that why you came to us instead of your brother?” Hux asks suspiciously. For all we know, this could be some weird ploy to infiltrate us. It wouldn’t be the first time someone came into our organization, attempting to relay information back to their bosses. Only to get caught.
“Yes,” she says with a firm nod. “My brother is too closely associated with them. Always has been.”
“What if it’s us?” I ask, leaning back in the small booth of the deserted restaurant.
Her eyes widen slightly, and a pallor takes over her face as if she hadn’t thought about that.
“It’s not, for fuck’s sake,” Mack grumbles, biting into his burger like an animal.
“Franco doesn’t allow that shit under his nose.
Organ sales? Pu-fucking-lease. That’s Shades bullshit right there.
Right up your brother’s alley and mine, too.
Wanna make a club for the world’s shittiest brothers?
” He offers her a food-filled smile, and she frowns.
“I love my brother. You don’t know how much guilt I felt when CPS tore us apart, and I was sent to my dad’s house. A blessing for me, but he was stuck with her.” She shakes her head. “What he went through is not to be made lightly of.”
Mack chews his food. “Whatever,” he scoffs.
“Back to this. So, you overheard a doctor, and he was going to sell a kidney?”