6. Dorian
6
Dorian
O ctavia falls limp in Bastian’s arms, a bit of blood bubbling where I injected her with propofol to knock her out cold. I run my thumb over it, brushing the evidence away, Bastian cradling her to his chest.
I remove that awful mask he chose to use, chucking it to the floor. We selected our masks years ago and have never changed them, wanting her to see the same monsters over and over. Mine is a standard mask you can get in most stores; I didn’t want something too horrific, but Bastian’s is plain revolting.
He added the kiss me on the forehead of the mask the first night we drugged her and chased her through the castle, slaughtering one of Father’s spies, making it look like we were killing her demons. She cried in relief, thinking she was safe, and said she could just kiss us in a giddy high. Since then, Bastian adds kiss me on the mask each time, hoping for a kiss.
“She finally admitted it,” Bastian growls, raking his gaze down her naked body, biting his bottom lip, rubbing our release into her skin.
“She did.”
We’ve been pushing her towards the darkness for a long time, twisting her all up on the inside, making her as depraved as us. The nightmare hunts started after her eighteenth birthday. Once a month, we would slip her acid, forcing her on a trip she believed was a recurring nightmare. It started off as demons chasing her and then her big brothers coming to her rescue, her dark saviours frightening the demons away, slaughtering anyone who tried to harm her. We would change it up each time, but the one thing that stayed the same was that her brothers saved her, making us the only ones she could rely on.
Even after she woke up, she would come to us for comfort, and we would soothe the pain away. Our plan was working perfectly: she was falling deeper and deeper into the darkness with us as her guides—her lifeline. Her twentieth birthday was the night our plan was supposed to take its next step. Until then, we were just her protectors. We were going to plant the seed at being more, slowly poisoning her heart and warping her mind, but our father made sure that didn’t happen. He sent her away, snatching her right out of our arms when we weren’t paying attention.
That will never happen again.
A groan of pain rumbles from the ground, a weak and pathetic cry coming from the waste of skin at our feet. Bastian scowls in annoyance at the interruption, rearing his leg back and booting our father in the stomach. His body lifts in the air at the impact, his groan of pain turning into a sob.
Disgusting.
“I’ll take Father back to the south wing. Make sure you clean her up and put her back in bed with a new nightgown, and leave her alone in there.”
If it were up to my brother, he would have had her chained to us physically from the moment she stepped back home. But I know Octavia needs a little more pushing. She needs to come to us on her own, to give in to the sickness she’s tried so desperately to fight. I want full surrender, not an unwilling captive.
“You take the fun out of everything.” Bastian snaps, giving Father one last kick.
I click my fingers, and a flurry of people jump out from the shadows, waiting for my order. Two of them grab my father by his arms and start dragging him back to his room while the others clean up the bloody mess my dark angel made.
I follow behind the ones that have my father whistling a tune. Octavia was magnificent in her attack, a feral, bloody demon as she raked her nails down his face, slamming his head into the wall repeatedly. I’m not sure if she realised it was him while she was tripping. She could have been seeing anything, but I have a feeling she saw some extension of him.
We pass multiple staff as we go, cleaning up after us. The hunts can get rather messy, but the ones who were here before she left will be used to it. They are the ones who aren’t shaking in fear or retching as they work. It takes a lot of work to create this, a lot of clean-up. It’s why we only ever did it while Father was away, with staff who are loyal to me.
The men dragging my father chain him back up into the room where he will enjoy his limited stay, securing him to the bed. It’s Octavia’s old bed, in her old room. I thought it would be fitting for her to kill him here when the time is right.
“You won’t get away with this,” father croaks, pulling weakly at his restraints. My gaze snaps to the men, and they rush out of the room, closing the door behind them. I slowly walk towards my father, tsking as I shake my head.
“I believe I’m already getting away with this.”
I never liked my father, and love is completely out of the question. We don’t love in the bloodline, but I did respect him, how he ran his part of the organisation. My family is the shadow in the night, the monsters crime lords are terrified of. We don’t just control the underworld from the shadows; we control everything: CEOs, banks, politicians, gangsters, even royalty. No one knows about us, only the myth. My father excelled in what he did, but he made the mistake of trying to take what’s mine.
“The elders won’t approve. They’ll find out I’m missing when I don’t check in, and the first ones they’ll come for are you and your brother. How could you betray the bloodline like this? All for some little who-”
“I would be very careful about finishing that sentence,” I hiss.
He’s acting desperate, trying to make out like the elders won’t approve when we both know they would. The bloodline runs on depraved power; it’s the only thing they respect. If an outsider were to do this, then he would be right: the entire bloodline would be out for revenge and blood. But his own sons doing this, someone a part of the bloodline? They won’t bat an eye. They will see it as weak. There’s no coming back from weakness, and he knows it.
“They won’t accept a marriage between the three of you. They think you’re too closely related. They will marry Octavia off to someone else, and you will lose her again. That’s why I sent her away in the first place, to save you from being cast out by the family for being with her. I knew after you asked me for her that you wouldn’t be able to resist her poison. She’s just like her mother; she will ruin you. I only wanted to protect you from that.” He tries a different tactic, trying to hold in the panic from his gaze.
“If you release me, we will forget this ever happened. I’ll tell the elders that Lucinda was already pregnant before we wed, that Octavia isn’t mine. She’s still part of the bloodline and far enough for you to be together. They will let you keep her, and I will help. I’ll sacrifice my standing. I promise, son. Think about it. You know this would be the right decision.”
I laugh cruelly at his comical, pathetic version of what happened. This man truly believes me to be a fool.
“I know why you sent her away. I saw your beady eyes on her at the ball. You truly saw her for the woman she turned into. But when you found her diary and saw how much she wanted us, your poor warped ego couldn’t handle it. You’ve never been good at second place, but that’s where you always find yourself. Your marriages, the bloodline, your sons. There’s always someone better.”
His face turns bright red, his bloody, broken body shaking with rage. “I taught you everything you know. You are nothing compared to me. I run this bloodline!”
The elders run this bloodline. He’s just the figurehead in charge, but not anymore.
“Have fun screaming at the walls. I’m sure you can convince them you run this bloodline while chained to a bright pink bed.” I cackle as he bellows in rage, the chains rattling as he thrashes.
“They will never accept the three of you together! Never!”
I grip the door, cocking my head to the side, frowning deeply. “Then they die too. Enjoy your last days, Father. The countdown begins.”