Chapter 3
WYLDER
Tonight is game night. Which means two things are happening.
Chaos.
And noise.
I wince at the cacophony around me, my fingers drumming on the table.
Before Matthias and Wyatt embarked on their ruse of a marriage, these nights were held monthly.
Wyatt’s brother, Jackson, pushed for us to make them weekly events.
He insisted it’d bring us closer together as siblings, as well as make him and Wyatt feel more like part of the family.
I hemmed and hawed, citing our busy schedules, but once Cade and Harley got wind of the suggestion, there was no stopping it.
I was forced into this, much to my dismay.
It’s not that I don’t enjoy game night. It was my idea in the first place. A time when we could be ourselves without any expectations. Where we could bond without blood and violence involved.
Well, in theory.
The reality is slightly different. We’ve been sitting here for less than five minutes, and Samson is clutching his bleeding nose while Dalton is cursing at him.
“Honestly, when did your head get so hard?” Dalton asks, shaking his hand out and wincing.
“Since when did you get so soft?” Samson spits.
I sigh, my fingers tapping the table faster.
We haven’t even started playing yet, so it’s only going to get worse.
Usually, I don’t mind these shenanigans.
Usually, I enjoy encouraging them. Game night is one of the rare occasions where I stretch my monster’s leash.
Not much, but enough for me to retain my sanity.
It was my retreat. My haven. My safe space.
Emphasis on the was.
With the blue-haired addition beside me, it’s become yet another area of stress for me. I just can’t relax with him here. If I give my monster an inch with Neo in the room, he’ll take the whole fucking mile.
It’s not just that, either. It’s how Neo seems determined to drive me crazy with every single action. Right now, my left eye is twitching at how he’s balancing on the back two legs of his chair. He has no respect for the craftsmanship put into these damn things.
“Stop that.”
He peers over at me, leaning back a little more. “Stop what? I’m literally just sitting here.”
He leans back another inch, and my skin crawls. And then he winks at me.
My eye twitches more rapidly in response.
Grabbing the seat of his chair, I slam it forward. “There. Now you’re just sitting.”
Neo rolls his eyes. “Jesus, dude. You need to relax. I’m not going to break one of your precious chairs.”
“He just loves them because he put these together,” Harley says. “Spent hours fiddling with that little wrench and cursing. I’ve never seen him so upset.”
“And whose fault is that?” I ask. “You smashed the one we’d had for decades and threw the other out the window.”
Harley snorts. “One was on fire, the other needed to be acquainted with Samson’s legs.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. In reality, I don’t give a shit about the furniture.
These chairs did take me forever to put together, but if I could be bothered, I’d raze the whole place to the ground.
It’s too much of my father’s taste for me to actually like it.
But seeing Neo injured, his head bleeding from an impact with the marble floor? That, I don’t want to deal with.
“Cade did that once,” Ansel interjects, and I startle slightly. I forgot what I was talking about. But then I see Ansel smiling dreamily at my brother. “Smashed a chair to pieces by rocking on it in the cabin.”
“You did?” Harley glances around curiously. “Why?”
His question throws me for a moment. I forget sometimes that his training wasn’t the same as ours. Unlike the older siblings, Harley was never locked in a room with masked strangers and no weapons. He hasn’t learned how to utilize the most innocuous household items and use them to defend himself.
I made sure of that.
That’s not to say Harley isn’t dangerous. His training was just as thorough, but conducted in a more…healthy manner.
As healthy as it could be, anyway.
“Well, I needed a weapon,” Cade explains. “Ansel hid my dagger, but I figured broken chair legs were better than nothing.”
Cade kisses Ansel’s palm. It doesn’t matter how often he does it, it surprises me every time. Who knew there was such a softy hiding beneath Cade’s psychotic exterior?
If you think about it, he’s the complete opposite of me. Where Cade was taught to release his monster, I was trained to cage mine. Makes sense given I’m the face of the Buckinghams.
There’s no denying how I wish things were different.
How much I wish I could just let my monster free.
“Wait.” Neo leans forward suddenly, his face thunderous. “Were you planning on hurting Ansel?”
My brow furrows, and I find myself biting out, “Are you surprised? Ansel kidnapped Cade and tied him to a chair. He was allowed to defend himself.”
Neo’s ire turns in my direction, and he rocks back in his chair again. “Ansel didn’t have a choice in the matter. Besides, Cade wasn’t even meant to be there. He was the one who gave a fake name and got himself mixed up in the whole mess.”
“And how was Cade meant to know that?” I respond in exasperation, reaching out and slamming the chair back onto the ground. “As far as he was aware, he was in a dangerous situation.”
Neo’s eyes narrow as his lips open to retort. Before he can, a sharp whistle cuts over our argument. Our heads snap around to see everyone in the room now watching us.
Ansel lowers his fingers, fixing us both with a steady glare that isn’t even mildly terrifying. At least, it wouldn’t be, if not for the fact that Cade is running his thumb across his throat in an unmistakable warning.
“Stop it,” Ansel says, flicking his eyes between us. “I know you use arguing as foreplay, but leave mine and Cade’s relationship out of it.”
“Well said, butterfly,” Cade drawls. “And, for the record, I needed a weapon to defend Ansel. I knew he wasn’t working alone, and although I trusted him, I didn’t trust anyone else.”
Neo sits back, mollified. I can see his keen mind working though. It’ll only be a few more minutes before he’s back on his bullshit.
Likely at my expense.
“Still think you’re insane for that,” Dalton remarks, lifting the lid off the Monopoly box. “Can’t see myself blindly trusting anyone I don’t share blood with.”
Jackson frowns, his gaze flicking over to Dalton. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“You don’t count, kid,” Dalton replies dismissively, setting out the board. “You’re practically family. Another annoying little brother I didn’t ask for. Now, where the fuck is my piece…”
He’s so focused on finding what he’s looking for that he doesn’t notice Jackson shoving back his seat and stalking from the room. How can Dalton be so oblivious to Jackson’s crush? Even I can see it, and I never notice anything when it comes to emotions.
“Hey, dickwad.” Wyatt picks up a token and flicks it at Dalton’s forehead. “Wanna watch how you talk to him?”
Dalton rubs his forehead as he scowls at Wyatt. “What the fuck?”
Matthias puts a soothing hand on the back of Wyatt’s neck. “Dalton, you can’t be this obtuse. You’re not Wylder.”
Neo snickers behind his hand. I consider arguing, but really, what would be the point? They’re right. My IQ might be the highest in the room, but my emotional intelligence? That’s always been…lacking.
Sometimes I wonder what I would’ve been like if I hadn’t been the firstborn. Would I be more carefree like some of my younger siblings? Or was I always destined to be this way?
Guess I’ll never know.
Dalton flushes, not meeting anyone’s gaze. For someone who prides himself on never having tells, he’s unable to hide them where Jackson is concerned. “I’m not. But come on, you can’t want me encouraging him. I mean, how fucked would that be?”
My brows rise. This is the first time Dalton has admitted any awareness of Jackson’s feelings.
“We don’t want you to encourage him,” Wyatt says from between gritted teeth. “The age difference between you two alone would piss me off, and these game nights are the closest I want my brother to The Firm.”
Neo leans closer to me, muttering in a low voice, “Bit much, given he’s married to Matthias, and Jackson lives with them.”
I hum in agreement. As an older brother, I understand Wyatt’s concerns. However, there’s no getting away from The Firm.
For any of us.
“Exactly,” Dalton says, nodding brusquely. “Glad we’re all in agreement.”
Wyatt exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s like you’re missing the point on purpose. You can keep your distance from Jackson without hurting his feelings.”
Dalton’s flush deepens. “I’m not trying to hurt his feelings, I’m trying to protect them.”
Wyatt looks positively murderous now. Matthias frowns at the sight. “Want me to draw some blood? I would do it for you.”
“No,” Wyatt sighs, squeezing Matthias’s hand. “You don’t like violence.”
My stomach clenches as it always does when this comes up. I wasn’t able to protect Matthias as well as I did Harley and Dalton.
I live with that guilt every day.
“I’ll do it,” Samson offers, palming his dagger with a smirk. “I owe him for the bloody nose.”
Bickering breaks out around the table, but I barely hear it. I’m too deep in my own thoughts, wondering how else I’ve failed my family.
How might I fail them in the future?
I’m spiraling before I can stop myself. Not that anyone can tell. I’m used to keeping my feelings on tight lockdown.
“Hey.” A hand touches my knee under the table, making me jolt. I turn my head, and through the fog of anxiety, concerned hazel eyes meet mine. “You okay?”
I nod tersely. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Neo doesn’t give me any snark, just shuffles his chair closer.
His hand moves farther up my thigh as he does so.
When he whispers in my ear, it takes everything in me not to shudder at the feel of his warm breath on the sensitive skin.
“Well, you’re so tense you look like you’re about to bust a vein. ”
“I always look like this.”