Chapter 31 Sam
Sam
The Morningstars’ annual holiday party is my favorite event of the year.
I’ve been attending ever since I met their family, after Vinny insisted that everyone who attends their grief support group is family.
At the time, I was still reeling from the loss of my mother, and my dad was being as cold as ever, so I didn’t have anything happy to go home to.
That’s why being around Mercy and her family—sharing the warmth of their company and eating way too many cookies than should be legal—has always meant so much to me.
They’re the family that I always wanted.
But this year, I’m nervous. I play it off as excitement when my dad’s looking, but every time he turns his back, I dig my fist into the bruise on my thigh so that the pain keeps me grounded. I can’t afford to make any mistakes tonight.
If we fail and my father lives, he won’t show us any mercy.
The first person he kills will be the one I care about most.
I’ve played this scenario over and over in my head ever since I came up with the idea.
At first, it was a wishful, frantic thing muttered in the dark of my bedroom, but the longer I sat with it, the more it made sense.
The best way for me to protect Mercy is to ensure that my father can’t touch her, and the only way to do that is to kill him.
Taking over his contracts and heading the dozens of companies he’s founded is a nightmare I’ll have to untangle, but it’ll be worth it if I can have Mercy.
I’ll do anything to keep her by my side.
Now that the day is finally here, everything is falling into place.
Our gift is as ostentatious as it can get—a serif relief of the letter M that suspiciously looks like a W at the same time—and a case of the most expensive wine on the market.
It’s not so expensive that no normal person has heard of it, but it’s well-known enough to prove just how much money the Wright family has.
A fuck ton.
I used to believe that my mother’s charitable efforts were what garnered so much finances, but the reality is much more grim.
Working under my father has proven that behind the veneer of charitable deeds and fundraisers, he has innumerable underground contacts for drug smuggling, weapons deals, and laundering money.
It’s no wonder my mom grew to hate him.
The party is being held inside the mortuary itself; the few back rooms that aren’t used for storage are transformed into a quaint setting for mourners to gather for a rare moment of peace.
A Christmas tree, decorated with homemade ornaments and a variety of gifted ones over the years, sits in the lobby for guests to enjoy with hot cocoa and a round of holiday bingo.
This is the first time in years that I haven’t helped set up for the event.
Knowing that Kane and Zane likely took over that duty makes me sadder than I realized it would.
Next year, I’ll have to string the whole place in lights and set sparkling reindeer out front.
I can’t be outdone if I’m going to become the man of the house.
This year, however, I have an even greater surprise—something that I’ll never be able to top again.
“Are you ready?” I glance over at my special guest, noting the way he didn’t bother to dress up.
I’d set out my best outfits for him to choose from, but he decided to wear what he arrived in this morning: a black denim jacket, heavy combat boots, a worn long-sleeve t-shirt, and ripped jeans.
Playing with his lip piercing as he stares at the mortuary, he doesn’t respond.
“I know you haven’t been home in a while—”
A flash of anger in his eyes makes me pause. Maybe bringing him wasn’t a good idea after all. Then again, if anyone’s got a grudge against my father, it’s him. We need that kind of energy if we’re going to win tonight.
“Stay behind me,” I instruct, stepping up to the front door. “They need to see me first.”
He chuffs. “Whatever, dude. Like I care who goes first.”
My father is actually the one who enters first, drawing eyes as he sweeps dramatically in front of our gifts—delivered this afternoon—and makes a show about checking them.
When his gaze lands on Vinicius Morningstar, Mercy’s father, he smiles at the other man and inclines his head.
They’ll speak at some point tonight, but my dad will take his time with the approach, luring Vinny with a slow pull rather than a direct approach.
That’s usually how he handles things—pretending to be indirect while secretly aligning the pieces on the board until he’s the last person standing.
Ignoring him is easy. I follow him into the lobby and avoid the urge to look for Mercy. I’m starving for a glimpse of her, my stomach tying itself into knots. But this moment, for all of the planning that went into it, isn’t about me.
It’s about the man walking in behind me.
There aren’t many guests, but a whisper spreads around the room like smoke. It takes a moment for Vinicius to recognize the words rumbling around him, but when he does, he drops his glass of wine.
A gasp catches my attention, and I turn my head to find Mercy struggling to hold back tears from across the room, but she isn’t crying at the sight of me.
She’s speechless at the sight of her younger brother Malachi.
The boy who’s been ‘at boarding school’ for years.
With a strangled cry, she rushes to him, barreling into his chest so hard that he stumbles. “Hey, Sis,” he mumbles, hiding his face in her raven hair. They wrap their arms around each other and share a private moment that the rest of the room politely ignores… but I can’t.
Staring at Mercy’s back is a kind of torture I’ve never experienced. Her chest rises with a sob that I long to soothe, and I clench my fist in my pocket to keep from reaching for her. Bringing Malachi here took groveling to my father to make it happen, but the payoff is a thousand times worth it.
Especially since it means we have another man in our corner when the time comes to kill my dad.
Someone punches my arm. “Sam, you fucking bastard. You made it.”
“Kane,” I greet numbly, refusing to look away from Mercy. She pulls away from her brother and futilely wipes the damp patch of tears on his jacket, or maybe it’s the makeup. At least he’s wearing black so it blends in.
Time slows to a crawl as she grips her brother’s hand tightly in hers and turns around, her watery eyes finally landing on me.
I hold my breath as another silent tear slides down her cheek.
She’s curled her hair for the evening, two long strands framing her angelic face.
Dark red lipstick matches the color of her blouse and the laces on her boots, but the tights, ruffled skirt, and leather on her shoes is pitch black.
Standing next to her brother, the resemblance is undeniable.
They both have pale complexions, curled lashes, stormy emerald eyes, and a light flush to their cheeks.
“Sam,” she breathes, blinking back a fresh wave of tears. “Did you—was this—” She clutches her brother’s hand tighter. “How?”
Malachi has been denied leave from school—or more accurately, the asylum he’s been imprisoned in—for years.
If I’d been paying attention sooner, I would have noticed and got him out a long time ago.
It was yet another one of my father’s schemes; keep the boy under lock and key in case he needs leverage.
Bringing him home now is meant to prove Vinicius’s incompetence with his own family and how superior my father is, since he’s taking credit for my idea. I don’t give a damn so long as we ensure that Malachi is here to stay.
Rather than answer Mercy’s question, I brush a stray tear off her cheek. “Please don’t cry,” I murmur, breathing in her every exhale. God, I needed to see her. To be with her. A huge weight is lifted off my shoulders by simply standing in her presence.
“These are happy tears,” she laughs, smiling easily. “I can’t believe you’re here.” She hooks her arm through her brother’s. “Either of you.” With her other hand, she reaches for mine and squeezes my fingers. “Thank you, Sam. This is the best gift I’ve ever had.”
Anything for you.
Zane appears by Mercy’s side and steals her hand from mine, lacing their fingers together with an ease I never imagined I’d see between them.
“Let’s go find Granny. She’ll have a heart attack.
” Although he’s taller than Malachi, they match in appearance, wearing only black.
But where Malachi is full grunge, Zane has opted for a softer approach, wearing a button-down with his skinny jeans and canvas shoes. Except—
“Are you wearing eyeliner?”
Mercy glances up at Zane fondly, and they share a subtle smile that makes my heart quiver. That’s a look of endearment, and it’s new, much like the hand-holding.
Lifting an eyebrow, Zane challenges me with that simple of a gesture. “You got a problem with it?”
Hooking my hands in my pockets, I hold his gaze.
“No.” I’m just wondering how much I’ve missed over the past few weeks.
Apparently, a fucking lot. Even his injured arm hangs by his side, still wrapped in a soft cast, but a small heart has been drawn in permanent marker over his thumb.
The break must not have been as bad as it looked when I saw him wearing a sling the other day. “Glad to see you’re healing.”
He nods. “Can’t stay down forever.” Tugging Mercy’s hand, he leads their band of goths to the back to find Grandma Star, leaving Kane and me to stare at each other.
Nudging my arm, Kane walks with me to admire the tree. “You ready?”
I don’t see how that’s relevant. “Are you?”
He takes a sip of his drink, something clear and fizzy. Soda? Is he not drinking tonight?
Seeing the unspoken question in my eyes, he offers me the plastic cup. “Not good to drink on the job. Don’t want to carve my own finger off.” He tries to get me to take the drink. “You, though. You need to relax. Hold this while I get you something stronger.”
“No, I’m okay.” I want to be clear-headed for this. “I’ll have water.”
Kane clicks his tongue. “Your dad will be suspicious if you don’t have a drink.”
The bar is in the back, so we take a detour to mix a virgin cocktail. I hear Mercy’s laugh from another room and turn in that direction.
“She’s fine, Sam.”
I can’t help but frown. “That’s not what Zane told me.”
“Yeah, well, Zane’s a bit pessimistic. Glass half empty, and all that.” Kane swirls the ice in his cup. “She’s been stressed, but we’re helping her relax.” The smirk he attempts to hide behind his cup is incriminating as hell.
“Helping her relax,” I repeat, crushing my plastic cup. The liquid sloshes over the side and drips onto the floor. As long as Mercy is happy, that’s what matters. I know this, I accept this, and yet my jealous heart twists in silent agony.
I want to be there with her, no matter what it is the three of them are up to together.
Kane hums in the back of his throat. “Mhm.” Clapping me on the shoulder, he grins. “But don’t worry, Wright. We’re taking good care of her until you get back, but that’s the thing. You will be back. You standing here is proof of that. She hasn’t given up on you, so don’t give up on her.”
I would never.
Dumping my drink into the sink, I grab a new cup and fill it with ice water. “Once this shit with my dad is over, I’m not leaving again.” I meet Kane’s eyes. “If you’re here to stay, you’ll have to get used to having me around. I won’t compromise my feelings for her to make you comfortable.”
With a grin, Kane chuckles under his breath. “So long as you get used to sharing, Sam, I don’t give a damn if you stick around or not.”
“Whatever makes her happy.” I drain my cup to drown out whatever lingering jealousy stirs inside my heart. If I’m going to survive sharing Mercy’s bed with two other men, I need to remember the reason we’re all here. “Do you love her?”
“Absolutely,” Kane answers immediately.
Adrenaline pulses through my veins as my heart clenches tightly. “Are you going to kill her?”
Kane’s face lights up as we hear another peal of Mercy’s laughter echoing down the hallway. “Even if I snuck that past you, I’d regret it the moment my knife hits her heart.”
I nod. A rush of relief makes my knees weak. That’s one less problem to deal with. “You won’t change your mind?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. You don’t have to worry about Zane, either. He’s smitten as fuck, just stubborn about it.” With a warm smile, Kane bumps my shoulder with his. “Welcome back, Sam.”
I take a deep, calming breath and feel myself relax for the first time in weeks.
It’s good to be home.