Cruel Betrayal (Cruel Command #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

JADE

The worst part about coming home to my new little apartment in the Upper East Side is never knowing whether the door is going to be open or closed.

It should be closed. And locked. And the security system engaged.

But he always seems to find a way around that, and I don’t know how.

My hands shake as I unclench my fingers from the keys they’re wrapped around, flicking through the few on the ring to find the one to my door.

I let out a wavering breath.

My heart pounds so hard against my ribs that I’m sure it’s going to find its way out of my chest.

All I ever wanted was to be independent. To be able to choose the life I want to live. To be the master of my destiny. Maybe find a boyfriend or have fun dating the wrong guys for a while before settling down with the right one and starting a family someday.

I wanted to be me, to be more than just another Lynde, my sister’s twin, my siblings’ punching bag, my family’s problem solver.

I wanted not to be a prisoner in my own home.

I wanted to have a voice. To matter. To live. To be free.

And here I am.

I got free from my family’s oppression only to be stuck in a nightmare. A whole new level of captivity.

From a gilded cage to a figurative one.

I haul open the front door to the building, waiting for the doorman to open the second one.

He gives me a warm smile and a nod, though he says nothing.

As I step into the elevator, I fidget with the keys, half trying to protect myself and half knowing that I could stab anyone who might come at me out of the apartment.

I fought so hard to move out on my own.

This house was my dream come true. But dreams aren’t always pleasant. Sometimes they turn into nightmares. And I should’ve anticipated the hell having a place of my own would bring.

The doors slide open on the top floor, and my stomach plummets to my feet.

It takes everything in me to convince myself to step off that elevator, to walk past the door to the emergency stairwell, and to turn right at the end of the hall, into the little alcove where my door is hidden.

Thankfully, it’s closed today.

I let out a deep breath and stick the key in the lock, counting to ten before twisting it, trying to prepare myself for whatever I’m going to find inside.

As the door swings open, I just know.

Something is wrong.

It’s not that there’s anything out of place, but more so the fact that the bowl that’s in the dish rack was dirty in the sink when I flew out the door this morning.

My shoes are neatly lined up in front of the hall closet.

Maybe it’s the way my throw blanket is tossed haphazardly on the couch, the pillows indented as if someone took a nap there.

I would never sleep on the couch. The massive windows that overlook Central Park are too open. Too inviting for anyone with a pair of binoculars or a half-decent camera who might want to look inside.

My heart leaps into my throat as I open the console table, pressing my finger against the little pad at the back of the drawer. There’s a little flash of heat in my finger as the scanner comes to life.

The secret compartment inside the table opens, and I take out my gun and magazine, arming it and creeping through the living room and kitchen, turning down the hall toward the bedrooms.

Pictures that hang on the wall are a little jostled, though that could be from the obnoxious neighbors and their loud music. The bass shakes the ceiling of my apartment at times.

I reach the first bedroom, the guest room, pulse pounding, blood rushing in my ears.

The door is open, the same as I left it, sunlight filtering through the windows.

I open the closet, check behind the door and the bed. Hell, I even lift the curtains out of the way just to make sure that there’s nobody hiding behind there.

Nothing.

As I leave the room, I open the door to the small laundry room.

My throat closes up at the sight of the open dryer drawer, the load of leggings and sports bras I put in there this morning, gone.

I think I’m going to be sick.

Whoever they are, this time, they took things, or at least took them from where I had them, since I still have some rooms to check. They’re cleaning up after me. They had a nap on my damn couch.

I should call Aiden.

The problem with that is that the freedom it took me so long to conquer will be ripped from me in a second.

So far, the stalker is a nuisance, yes, violating my space, invading my life, but they haven’t actually harmed me.

Do I really want to sacrifice my hard-won freedom, go back into the cage that was suffocating me, just to prevent some guy from coming into my house and doing house chores, or taking naps on my couch?

Pushing the thought of calling Aiden to the side, I check my bedroom.

The bed is perfectly made, the duvet cover tucked in tight so not a wrinkle shows in the ribbed material.

I’ve never made the bed a day in my life. I’ve never seen the point when I plan on getting right back into it.

But it’s made.

My entire body stiffens as I open the last place to check. The bedroom closet.

They’ve never stayed before for me to find them, and I don’t think they have now either. I’m not even sure that my stalker is a man.

Easing the door open, I hold my breath.

It’s empty.

Slumping against the wall, I sink down, squeezing my eyes shut. I keep the gun clutched tight, but I know it’s not going to do any good when there’s not anyone here to shoot.

The need to feel safe is overwhelming.

Opening my eyes, I pull out my phone, thumb hovering above Aiden’s number.

If I call him, he’s going to come over here, likely with Zoe in tow, and they’re going to tell me that moving out was a bad idea. Or that I should be closer to home. Or maybe that I should let the security team he has following me at all times into the building.

Or worse. He’ll tell me I had my fun, but playtime is over, and he’ll drag me back to the mansion.

I may hate what is happening, but I hate the idea of going back even more.

So, instead, I tap the icon for the classic literature chatroom I’m in, pulling up the last conversation.

Me: The stalker was here again. I don’t know what to do.

Three little dots bounce on the screen before disappearing.

My heart sinks in my chest.

Maybe messaging him right now is a bad idea.

He doesn’t know me beyond the conversations we have. The ones of the carefully crafted woman I put in front of him.

The only reason he knows about the stalker is because I messaged him in a moment of weakness, not knowing what else to do.

“I’m an idiot.” I push myself off the ground and go to put the gun away.

My phone buzzes as I triple-check the lock on the door.

Pulling it out, I hold my breath, hoping it’s not one of my brothers checking in. I don’t know how to lie to them about everything right now.

I’ve been doing it for months, but that’s normally after a bit of time to calm down.

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: …I don’t know what to say. Are you okay? Did you call the police?

Me: No. Not much they can do. Don’t know who it is. Don’t know what they want. Starting to lose my mind, I think.

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: They’re not still there, are they?

Me: No.

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: Did you tell your brothers? Sisters? Anyone other than me? There’s nothing I can do to protect you, but I think you should tell someone. Make sure that they know you’re in a dangerous situation.

Me: Can’t do that. Ellie is pregnant and tired. Gia is taking care of two young kids. Summer is off doing fuck knows what. Zoe is…difficult. And Skyla… well, she’s got issues of her own.

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: The doors and windows are all locked, right?

Me: Yeah. Everything is locked. Please, can we talk about something else? Maybe distract me from this hell?

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: Well, if you want to talk, I started reading Little Women.

You were right about Jo. She’s strong, but a hard character to like at times.

Not because of the rebellion, but there’s something about how she seems to need control over everything that’s off-putting.

And she’s too hard on Amy often, which is leading me to think Amy is often wronged by her sisters.

Me: So, you’re not to the second half of the novel, then.

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: No. Several chapters in, though.

Me: Oh boy. Get out the tissues when you get deeper into the novel. You’re going to cry like a baby.

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: Shit.

Me: I gotta go meet my sister for dinner.

ThatsRenfieldInTheCorner: Tell her about the stalker.

Me: Maybe.

I sigh and close the app, finally pulling myself to my feet and heading for the shower. I need to get cleaned up.

If Summer senses even the smallest thing off about me, she’s going to tell Aiden, and then he’ll breathe down the back of my neck until I tell him everything.

It would only prove him right and put more burden on his life, and he doesn’t need that with Noah taking over the Rinaldos once more.

Aiden’s too busy trying to keep our family from getting slaughtered.

I can deal with my stalker on my own.

Summer sips her mimosa and looks up at me. “You look like you’ve barely been sleeping.”

“And you look like law school is sucking the soul out of you. Think you’re going to be ready to graduate soon?” I reach for my water, wanting a drink but not wanting my senses to be dulled.

“Sure, if by ready you mean that I have one more year to go, and I feel like I’m going insane.”

“Well, drinking a mimosa with dinner is insanity, so at least your drink choice is appropriate to the way you feel.”

“You know, we might be twins, but I don’t think you’ve ever been more unlike me in your life. A mimosa is an anytime drink, and you should know that. The orange juice is good for you.”

I snort and cut the steak in front of me into thin pieces. “You might be the only person I’ve ever met who is willing to argue that mimosas are healthy.”

Summer smirks and sips the drink again. “Come on, Jade. You need to let loose and have a little fun.”

“And how am I going to do that? Noah is back and after months of pretending to be dead, he’s gunning for all of us. You know the second he can, he’s going to start taking us out.”

“You worry about life too much.” She dips a chunk of her lobster in the bowl of seasoned butter in front of her. “It’s been weeks since Aiden last saw him.”

I glance at the tables around to make sure nobody is listening to us. “In that time, there’ve been several attacks on arms and drug deals. I’m going to keep worrying about it because there’s no telling when there’s going to be a knife to any of our throats.”

“You sound paranoid.”

“Maybe you should be a little more paranoid.”

Summer laughs. “Jade, I love you, so I’m going to say this as nice as I can. You’re starting to sound too much like Aiden was last year.”

“He had a point, even if none of us were willing to listen to him.”

“Sure, he had a point. But do you really want to spend the next few years worrying about when Noah is going to try and kill us? Especially when you know that Aiden is taking care of things?”

“What if he can’t?” I stab another piece of steak and pop it into my mouth, chew it and swallow. “Look, I know that there’s very little that Aiden can’t do, but you have to admit that this is going to be one of those things he might not be able to do.”

Summer looks at me for too long, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

I hold her gaze, knowing that the moment I look away, she’ll start badgering me with whatever else she’s thinking about.

And knowing her, that will lead to frustrating me until I say something that will give away the shitstorm that’s going on in my life.

It’s what she’s done since we were young.

Summer hums and leans back in her chair, wiping her buttery fingers off on a napkin. She blows the hair out of her face as the warm spring wind blows it around. “Are you sure that this stuff with Noah is the only thing bothering you?”

“Yes.”

No.

But how do you tell your sister that there’s a stalker when you don’t want your entire family to come storming into your life like a pack of tornados? Wanting to control you. Smothering you. Caging you.

How do you tell her that you feel like you’re losing control of your life? That you’re losing your mind? That you can’t sleep at night because you know there’s something lingering in the shadows and watching you?

The simple answer is you don’t.