Consume Me (Corrupt Legacy #3)

Chapter 1

I’m a killer.

I did what I was supposed to do—keep my friends safe—and that cost me my soul, but it was the only way. My decision to live with. My demons to wrestle with, always taunting me.

But now my friends have the Family on their side.

I can’t stay here a moment longer, pretending it will be fine. Pretending that I am not irrevocably screwed up. Fucking pretending I have a chance at a normal life.

I know what will happen anyway. Grandmother, the matriarch of the Family, is going to die soon. She has proved to be more resilient than any of those fuckers—Caleb Sinclair, my dear father, and Felix Astor, the power-hungry asshole—anticipated. Cassandra Langley will be the matriarch until Kaden Astor takes his rightful place.

There is no place for me at the table anymore, not after what I did.

Inside of me, there is nothing but a dark vacuum. Every decision I made broke off pieces of my heart, leaving behind a black hole.

I gave every piece of myself to protect my friends, yet I wished I had more to offer. It would have been hers—the girl with silver eyes—the only one who stirred something in me.

Just thinking of Mia twists my heart, torn between needing to walk away for her and wanting to stay for her. But I can’t stay. She deserves better—someone I was never destined to be.

She dreams of heroes and an epic love story. I’m made of stitched-together wire, making me bleed my sins––a villain. I don’t want to taint her, even though she has been the temptation that has been the hardest to resist. But I can’t give Mia what she wants. That’s why I have to stay away from her.

Outside, the fall blows a chilly wind, reminding me of the cycle of nature: what blossoms will wither, what lives will die. Leaning back against the concrete front wall of our college house, I stare at the Eagleton College campus, another symbol of the Family’s power. The campus spans thousands of acres, dominated by a solitary, imposing old building resembling a castle. An eagle with spread wings is stamped on the hardwood front door, holding a globe between its claws––the crest of the Family and the symbol of freedom. This is the epitome of irony, considering you could never be free when you’re born into a dynasty.

The Family history began two hundred years ago when the founding families bought land in Delaware. They laid the foundation that led to the creation of an empire. With their seat of power here in Greenville, they became unfathomably rich and powerful through marriage alliances and savvy business decisions.

Every generation has its leader, the firstborn, who automatically becomes the ruler of the Family. No one can touch the Family. Their influence and power extend from appointing the mayor to controlling the police and owning most of the state’s resources, including land and wealth. The Family consists of six families: the Astors, the Vosses, the Sinclairs, the Langleys, the Fairchilds, and the Prescotts. Each rules over a key sector of society: finance, real estate, healthcare, retail, telecommunication, and education.

While we thought the Prescotts were long dead, eliminated at the orders of a former patriarch, they had staged their own deaths. The heirs, Mia, her twin brother, Hunter, and their father, Cillian, have returned to take their rightful place.

I watch Kaden step outside. My best friend, my brother, thinks I betrayed him. He will never forgive me for using Celine, but there were power games at play he didn’t know about.

I don’t expect nor want his forgiveness, yet his accusation, and Abigail’s, of me being a traitor stung. But again, their pain over forsaking their loved ones has always made them reactive. The only objective people are Bailey and me from our group of friends. Bailey, the youngest among us, adapts. I, on the other hand, am done pretending to fit in.

My father made me into a machine. I function. I exist. I execute.

Yet, even Caleb Sinclair, one of the greatest scientists in the country, can fail. He couldn’t rid me of having a conscience and a heart. These two sides of me wage a constant war, wreaking havoc inside me.

One of these days, the monster will win. Because if I allow myself to be led by feelings, it would destroy me. There is not enough alcohol in the world to numb that part. And I tried.

There’s madness ruling my Frankenstein brain. Still human but depleted of what makes it one: the ability to feel pain. Yet, like with alcohol, I have tried to overcome what he turned me into, but it was in vain.

I can’t get drunk. I can’t feel pain. I could chop off my limbs and not feel a thing. I could sooner enter an alcoholic coma than get drunk.

Kaden senses me. When he turns my way, there’s a hardness in his blue eyes, and an eerie silence settles between us.

I accept that I ruined our friendship. So be it. While I harbor guilt, all I did was keep his ass alive because my friend is good, loyal, and caring.

We have nothing more to say to each other. He’s going to catch his father and not ask for nor want my help––that’s my punishment.

Felix used to be the matriarch’s right-hand man, the most powerful senior, and the head of the Family’s financial empire. That was until he betrayed her by imprisoning her daughter, Cassandra, for fourteen years.

When Grandmother found out, he was captured. However, he managed to escape and nearly killed us all when he set off a bomb at Grandmother’s estate. There were two bombs—one that Kaden and Celine Langley removed from the mansion. But that asshole Felix always has plan B and plan C in case one small thing goes wrong with plan A. So it didn’t surprise me when another one detonated.

Knowing every escape route, he fled in the ruckus after the explosion, most surely using the underground tunnels.

Hunter comes outside, glancing my way. I push myself off the wall and walk inside the house. I’ve never had a home, but this has come the closest—my friends have been my home.

You would never think a fire made our house unlivable for a while, with everything looking the same as before. The kitchen is on the left side, with a marble island in the middle. To the right is the living room, painted in tones of light gray and decorated with white furniture. A fireplace sits against the left wall. There’s a big, comfortable couch that could accommodate us all, and a hand-crafted wool rug rests in front of it. From the hardwood floors and crystal lights, every piece has a sophisticated touch.

Taking the stairs to the second floor, I pause in the middle of the hallway. Her call is so potent that I have to physically force my legs to walk away.

I pack a duffel bag inside my room, which resembles a large suite with an adjoined bathroom and walk-in closet. I don’t need much—I never have.

I’m ready to leave, but once I’m in the hallway, I come to an abrupt halt. My desire to see Mia one more time overrides my rationality. Tiptoeing inside her room, I notice she’s asleep. The lamp on her nightstand is still lit, with one of her romance books placed upside down on it.

Her black shoulder-length hair covers half her face, her dainty hand resting on the pillow. She’s small, delicate, and feminine—everything in me screams to protect her. I swallow the urge, and my eyes catch her jewelry box where she keeps all her hair clips. A smile arches in the corner of my mouth when I see the majority contain the same color: purple. Even her room is painted in a light lavender. Her favorite color is just like her: all sweet and vivid. In my black and toneless life, she has been a burst of color.

With my refusal to stay, I ended everything we could have been. Remorse sticks to every fiber of my being, but it has to be this way.

From the first moment I laid eyes on Mia, my comatose heart began to pulse. Nothing in my life has felt better than the game we played, discovering each other’s secrets. But it turned into something more—something I could not have anticipated. Never just friends or actual lovers. I balanced on a thin line because I could never let her see the real me. Promises are made to be broken, and hers would have shattered me. I knew right then and there we’d never happen.

But that’s okay.

Let her believe I am a coward. Let her believe I am afraid to see what could have happened between us.

Sheer willpower carries me away. I close her door. Bracing my palms on the frame, my head drops. A small voice tells me to stay. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, someone who could make it all better. I know she could. But the other side always wins. Strangely, because I care about her, I must leave. If I indulged in what she kept offering me, I would have consumed her. My darkness would have fed off her light.

I’d rather she opened my chest and ripped my damn heart out than discover the man I truly am––deeply flawed, impossible to fix, and undeniably irredeemable—and loathe me.

I put a stop to us to protect her, yet I can’t make her see that. I wish we would have met before my initiation. Before, I had to pledge my loyalty to the Family. That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part came after, with all the implications spinning a steel-forged net, shackling me. Before that, I would have gladly taken what she offered. I was a selfish asshole back then. Now, the last strings of my humanity, which I keep hanging on to, stop me.

I move to Bailey’s door. Knocking, I let myself in. She takes one look at me and knows. With her strawberry blond hair and aquamarine eyes, she looks like a fairy princess.

“I can’t make you stay, but I wish you would…”

“I’ll miss you too, Bailey.”

“Kaden’s going to search for you even if he’s mad at you.”

“Do what you have to do.”

“I love Kaden, but I love you more… I’ll have your back. Take as much time as you need.”

What she doesn’t say rings louder. She won’t help him search for me and will let me know when someone gets close.

She stands, opens her desk drawer, and hands me a burner phone.

“But if something happens and you need me, you know how to get in contact.”

She returns to her laptop. Behind the fairy complexion, she’s a computer genius.

I walk away and don’t look back.

There’s nothing here for me any longer.

***

For the last two months, I have lived in shady motel rooms and abandoned buildings where underground fights take place. Cracks mar the walls, a rusty-colored line follows the drain in the small shower, and the light above my head flickers incessantly while a moldy scent surrounds me.

I don’t recognize the man staring back at me in the mirror of this dilapidated bathroom. Stubble grazes my chin, and my layered dark hair has gotten longer, so I slick it back.

The restlessness is still there. There’s no peace. Not that I deserve it, but I went away to search for myself, only to get lost in the haze of violence. I get farther away from my heart with every new place because I left it with her .

Every opponent I knock down in some warehouse in another godforsaken place doesn’t give me the satisfaction I crave. I even let them get a hit in to make the fight more fair. Yet, each one drops like a damn sack.

My image was always that of the easy-going guy in our group of friends. While the others always seemed unapproachable, I quickly learned that people flock to the popular ones. With the charming personality I presented—the funny, party-going heir––it was easy for people to trust me and share information. Since I fought on campus for a while, I knew about most of the big-money fights happening across the country.

My burner phone pings with the location of my next fight. It’s going down in an hour. I can’t stay longer than two days in one place, not only because the Family is searching for me but because my fighting skills attract attention. Both are things I don’t want, yet I can’t do a thing to stop them.

Pulling a hoodie on, I drag it lower to hide my face from prying eyes. Buses and my feet have carried me a thousand miles away from Greenville to the middle of the country. Not enough distance, but not even thousands more would help.

I can’t run forever. I know it like I know I can’t return. I can’t beat the guilt nor make myself function properly. Nothing will change if I go back. The monster in me blends better out here, cloaked by night.

Walking to the edge of the town—Jesus, I can’t even remember its name. After a while, they all blur in my head, and I don’t care where I am or where I’ll go next.

Two bulky security guys guard the entrance in front of the warehouse. I jerk my chin, showing them the invite on my phone. They size me up, likely recognizing me. I’ve earned the nickname “Steel Fists.” It’s not particularly original, but it doesn’t bother me.

I should fucking leave before another asshole thinks he can buy me to do his bidding. Freedom is the only thing I won’t relinquish again. I haven’t left the Family to become someone else’s property.

Here, I am not Blake Sinclair, an heir of the Family—just another man with an apparent death wish.

“Good luck,” the bigger one says.

Luck. My birthright ensured I should never hope for that.

“I don’t need luck.”

Opening the door for me, I stride inside the dimly lit building. In the middle of the ground floor is a cage where one guy is on top of the other, pummeling his face in; blood spurts out of his nose and mouth as if he’s a damn geyser.

I scan the crowd. People yell over the pounding music, bets are placed, and money is exchanged while the rest of the crowd clamors for their favorite. Over a hundred people have gathered—bloody thirsty assholes.

There are no rules in these types of fights. You fight until the other person can’t stand anymore. Whether or not he’s alive afterward is inconsequential.

While I had a vague idea about underground fights, their reality is more brutal. I had taken part in all the fights Tyson organized on campus. He’s another rich guy who rebels against his father the only way he can. I guess that was what we had in common, and we became quick friends.

A guy approaches me while I crack my neck and sway from one leg to the other to warm up. I know power when I see it. From his cold steel eyes to his roughened features, he emanates silent but deadly energy, and his custom-made suit doesn’t hide the fact that he’s someone important.

“I’m not interested.”

He looks me up and down, his impassive face not letting anything show.

“That alone could cost you your life,” he says with no inflection. He watches the current fight, almost with longing, before he redirects his attention to me.

I jerk my chin, smirking. “Who’s going to kill me? You? You could try.”

“Blake Sinclair, what is an heir like you doing so far away from home and family?” He uses every word with precision and significance.

“That’s not your problem. I am here to fight.”

“Hmm, so it’s true. There is friction in the Family.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Cato Moretti, and watch your fucking tone when you talk to me.”

This guy can’t be more than a few years older than me, but his name lights a bulb in my head. He’s one of the three leaders of the Syndicate. Their names are hushed and whispered about in the underworld with respect and fear. Their business is merely a front for their illegal operations. Behind the scenes, they lead one of the most powerful criminal organizations.

Faking a yawn, I ask, “What do you want?”

“Just wanted to see for myself. Go back home. This is not your place. The Family has never been this vulnerable.”

“Why do you care?”

“Ask for our help before we take it into our own hands. We’ve been watching you.”

“Are we sharing personal stuff now?”

One of his men beside him cracks his jaw. Something tells me he’d like to beat the shit out of me. He could try if he wants to end up a vegetable. “Let me kill this little shit, boss.”

“He’d enjoy that.”

Fucker.

With his hands shoved in his pants pockets, Cato cocks his head. A deadly vibe ripples behind the carefully crafted exterior.

“You want an escape, but you won’t find that here. You’ll be free of the shackles you were born into only when you die. Now, get in there and win me this fight. I haven’t come all the way from Boston for nothing.”

“And if I don’t?”

He gets in my face. Eye to eye, he says, “I’ve never met someone like you. And I have met a lot of fuckers in my life. Proud, arrogant, stupid, cunning. But no one so desperate to fight just so he can feel human.”

No one looked at me and fucking saw the darkest corners of my soul. He said it so confidently as if he knew what he was talking about. I flinch, and the asshole smirks.

“Thought so. Go before I forget what you could do for me and kill you.”

Stepping into the ring, anger courses through me. The instant the other fighter steps into the ring, all cocky and displaying his gold teeth and tattoo-covered body, I go at him until he’s nothing more than a pile of blood and broken limbs.

Taking the stack of money I won, I flip Cato the bird. He throws his head back and laughs. Call it gut instinct, but something tells me our paths will cross again. The Syndicate wants to rule the underworld, and there’s nothing like having a connection to one of the most influential families in the country. The Family is the fucking epitome of American royalty.

I walk back to the motel and take a quick shower, washing the blood off of me––a killer. A monster. Any of those titles would fit me better than that of an heir.

Everywhere I go, I carry that with me. Nothing I do would change it. I don’t fit anywhere. Even in the underground, I would be someone no one could control. I would never obey anyone again. Rules can’t keep me in check. Nothing can keep me in check.

I glance at my burner phone and see a new message from Bailey.

Leave.

With that, the frail hope that they have stopped searching for me vanishes. Fuck.

Changing quickly, I pack my bag. The moment I open the door, I come face-to-face with Cassandra.

I expected Kaden, not her.

“May I come in?” she asks. Dressed in a black suit with golden buttons and a silk shirt, she wears a pearl necklace, and her hair is styled in an elegant updo. I guess being the firstborn always comes with that invisible cloak of power. Seeing her healthy and strong gives me great satisfaction. She was held captive by Felix and Caleb for years, yet they didn’t break her.

I look behind her, expecting to see more guards. Instead, it’s just one black Mercedes SUV. Leaning against the side of it is her husband. Sebastian plotted for years, seeking revenge and searching for his wife. He faked his death, abandoning his daughter Celine, to make it convincing. Then he sent her back to gather the intel he needed to gain the upper hand.

I hold my arm out to gesture for Cassandra to come inside. She doesn’t look fazed as she sees the room. I doubt much does after what she went through. Another shot of guilt poisons my veins.

Silence drops heavily between us as we look at each other.

“Don’t make me come back.” Because she could. She has the authority to do that.

“Are you happy?”

I feel my brows furrowing. That’s the last question I expected. “I don’t think that’s something you or I will ever truly find.”

“There are days that I feel like I am happy.”

“I am sorry for your loss.”

“Mother would have wanted you at the funeral.”

“That would have been inappropriate.”

The secrets we carry stretch between us.

“You should kill me. That would be the only right thing to do.”

She inhales deeply, looking at me with compassion. “I’ve read the file your father kept on you. And I burned it right afterward. No one will see it. No one will know.”

“I know, Cassandra. The Family doesn’t need someone like me.”

She walks to me and palms my cheek. “I trust you. I need you. No one could understand me better than you.”

“Don’t.”

She drops her hand, giving me an intent look. “I am the matriarch now.”

“Nothing you could say or do will make me return of my own accord.”

“Neither Felix nor Caleb will give up. I am surrounded by people I can’t trust. Felix’s shadow looms over my influence, even if he’s a prisoner. While some packed their things and left, enjoying the privileges of being a part of the Family but forsaking the responsibilities of being a member, I distrust the ones who remained the most. Celine, Kaden, Abigail, Bailey, Mia, and Hunter don’t know those two like we do.”

“Kill them.”

“And then we’ll return to the bloody history of the Family. I can’t kill all of them, especially not without proof. That would only legitimize their wrongdoings. It’s all about power, and they won’t stop until they get it back from me. It’s not over. While I am busy restructuring the Family, more enemies pile up from inner and outer circles.”

“It’s not my problem anymore. I did all that you expected from me. Don’t ask more of me.”

She tilts her head, eyeing me with care. “Blake, my greatest wish is for you to accept yourself.”

“I never got the chance.”

“I have the best––”

“I’ve been an experiment long enough.”

She nods, sighing. “Your friends are not okay either. There’s a fissure in the group because you’re missing.”

“Guilt-tripping me?”

“If it works, I’ll take it. But it’s a reminder that Caleb might have taken a lot from you but not your best qualities. Your loyalty. Your good heart. Your ingrained self-sacrifice for the people you love. Because you feel too much––”

“Anything else?”

“Two things: come back and embrace your role. Your friends and I need you.”

“What role would that be, Cassandra? To be your hitman. I’d take your enemies and break them before I kill them. That’s what would make it real because the violence in me could never be satisfied. And nothing can change that. I am a ticking bomb. Your role is to protect the Family, not invite a loose cannon to your table.”

“Continue being the victim of your circumstance or become a survivor. How many did you kill in your fights?”

That touches a nerve. Why does she insist on seeing me as someone other than who I am? I snap. “None, so what? Tell me, Cassandra, how many times do you have to tell yourself you’re not a victim to survive each day?”

“As often as I need to, I remind myself that I am a survivor. A fighter.”

That’s the thing with her. She is lethal, like her mother, but her greatest strength lies in her humanity. It reminds me of Celine with that soft heart of hers. Lethal like panthers, soft like kittens.

“I need Kaden as well. And he’s busy searching for you. You know his greatest weakness.”

Fuck, this guilt-tripping is starting to work.

“Then he should get rid of that.”

“I don’t want that for any of you. No one will ever hurt you again. Just come back home.”

“Why have you always believed in me?” I ask, curious, even though her answer won’t change my mind.

“Because I never believed I could ever be free until you came and told me you’d help me. It would have been easier for you to say no to them, and they would have killed you. I know you wished they did at times. Instead, you became what they wanted to protect the people you care about. You think with the entire picture in mind.”

“I’d do it again.”

“Yes, because you’d sacrifice yourself for what’s right, for the people you love.”

She digs into her bag, then stretches out her hand to me. It’s a thick black envelope with the gold crest of the Family stamped on it. I take the envelope from her and then she places her palm on my arm, giving it a little squeeze.

I don’t remember my mother, so I relish her motherly care. Savoring the comfort for a moment longer, I ask, “What’s inside?”

“My mother wanted you to have it. I didn’t look.”

“The matriarch should know everything.”

“The matriarch knows who she can trust. That’s even better.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. She leaves me alone with the damn package that feels like a bomb ready to blow up my world.

Dropping onto the bed, I rip through it.

My brows furrow at the golden dagger with an intricate pattern. An emerald is encrusted at the top of the blade, and it weighs heavily in my palm.

She found out. Surely. Grandmother, this might be the only time I have truly respected you.

There is an inscription on each side of the blade . Neither side is completely right or wrong.

I place it next to me on the bed and open the letter that came with the package. My fingers shake so much that it takes a few attempts to steady them.

Blake,

Repentance is for the weak. I raised you to stand above those feelings. Don’t ask for or expect forgiveness. We are born to sin and die as sinners.

It was my responsibility to protect you, and I failed. Your responsibility is to accept that you’re the antihero. Unleash that silent panther within you. Become who you were always destined to become—the villain who would kill for his family, not the hero who would die for them.

Be lethal yet gracious. I have complete trust that you can be the representative this Family needs in public, as well as the monster lurking in the night when it’s needed. Don’t disappoint me now. Family always comes first, our personal feelings second.

You can do it. It’s up to you to accept yourself and embrace the duality. It has always been up to you.

I wish I had someone as loyal as you in my corner.

Fuck. The letter slides from my fingers, gliding like a paper airplane until it drops onto the worn-out, holed carpet—just like my resolve to stay away.

“Even from the fucking grave, Grandmother.”