35. Rowan
THIRTY-FIVE
ROWAN
The doors to my old childhood home stood before me. Once a place of dread and fear, it now held nothing but ghosts of my past, things that couldn’t hurt me anymore. I’d long since stopped letting them affect me.
Now, the only thing haunting these halls was old memories and the echoes of silent screams.
My boot made a hollow thunk as I planted it square along the seam of the double doors, forcing them open with all the fanfare of the hero in an action movie. A few guards rushed out to see what the noise was, but it was clear my father thought himself above enemies these days. Their reaction time was slow and inefficient, and as they pulled pistols from their jackets and aimed them at me, I grinned with a malicious twist of my lips, hands slowly rising in the air.
"Aw, come on, now, boys. I’m just here for a visit with dear old dad."
One of the guards must have recognized me because he signaled for the others to lower their guns. "It’s one of the master’s sons. Let him know."
"Right away." The man turned on a dime and rushed off, heading for the old study, right where my father had always conducted his business.
Where he beat the rebellion and free will out of us as kids and, later, as teens. Where he made all his decrees, solidifying them into law as we stood by and stared on in resignation.
Where he turned our worlds on their heads seven years ago and demanded we kill our step-sister, or he’d kill us.
"I’m not interested in waiting for permission," I spat as I lowered my hands to my sides and stepped forward again. "Now get out of my way."
The guards didn’t dare to shoot me without my father’s orders. And Father wasn’t about to cut down his only remaining puppet. I walked completely unrestrained to the doors of the study and shoved them open, taking a little satisfaction in the way they slammed against the wall from the force.
The man behind the desk looked up from his old school ledger book with a tired and irritated expression, his eyes skimming me over, much in the same manner that one regards an irritating and unwanted fly. His old, gnarled hands closed the cover of the book, and he narrowed his eyes, cutting me down in the same manner he’d had since I was a small child clinging to my mother’s skirts.
"Rowan, my youngest failure. What brings you to my doorstep these days?"
My eyes narrowed in response to his little dig, though it was the only indication I gave him that he had affected me. "You know why I’m here already." My hand balled into a fist, and I stared him down, refusing to back down. "It’s you, isn’t it?"
His lips, pursed in a thin line, curled upward at my words. "Why, Rowan, I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Perhaps you should be a bit clearer."
"You know what the fuck I mean." I tugged the blurry surveillance photo from my pocket and threw it on the desk, gritting my teeth so hard it might’ve broken a few molars. "Why us? Why all the secrecy?"
My father stood with a predatory smile and tucked his hands in his pockets, strolling leisurely around the desk as his eyes went everywhere but on me. "I think it’s clear by now that I know you failed seven years ago. What I don’t understand is, were you stupid enough to think I wouldn’t find out, or did you just screw the fuck up?"
"What does it matter? What’s done is done."
"On one hand, it makes you an idiot. An inexperienced idiot, but still an idiot. On the other hand, it makes you disobedient and shows no consideration for the future or safety of your brothers or yourself. So, Rowan," he said with a cunning, knowing smirk as his eyes met mine, "which was it? "
"Get fucked," I spat, hating this man from the bottom of my heart. "I’m not doing it. You can find someone else to do your dirty work."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you know what happens when you cross me, boy? Do you remember?" His fist launched out and snapped across my jaw, catching me off-guard—the only time he’d ever be able to say he’d done that. "You’re preparing to cross the point of no return, so think carefully before you step any further." The bastard rubbed his wrist as he examined the hand he’d hit me with.
I held my jaw and stared sideways at him, hating the fucker with every breath in my body. "I’m done being your errand boy, you hear me? Done being your fucking mule, your slave, your punching bag—all of it!" My locs danced around my head as I shook off the shock and slight pain, accentuating my words. "I’m not completing the fucking contract."
"It’s her or you. She needs to die before Friday. You won’t like the consequences of going against me if she doesn’t."
I slammed my fist on the desk, narrowly avoiding the urge to slam it into his face. "That’s two days."
"There’s a lot of money riding on this one. You’d best not fuck up twice." His eyes flashed with rage as they scanned my frame again. "Or I’ll take it out on your brothers."
He knew my weakness. Knew the only way to get to me. The only thing in life I would do anything to protect—my brothers. They were my Achilles’ Heel. My sole purpose was to ensure they were protected and cared for.
"What do you think you can do to touch them anymore? They’re all grown up, Father. All of us are." I snorted as I realized the man I’d spent a lifetime afraid of was no longer in control. He had no power over us and hadn’t for a long time. "The time of us being afraid of you is over."
"Don’t you want to know what really happened to Angel’s mother? I know he does. He’s been after the truth for years." His hand settled on my shoulder, and I tensed up as his broken, jagged nails dug into the fabric of my shirt. "And what about Nash? I’m amazed he hasn’t given up on life yet. I guess the only thing keeping him going is the childish attachment to his comatose mother." His eyes danced with sick, vicious humor, and I had to hold back an urge to vomit. "It would be so easy to just call the hospital and have them turn off the life support."
"You’re a monster," I spat, the words like chewed-up gravel on my tongue. "And I’m just sorry I didn’t stop it sooner."
"If I don’t get that money, Rowan, your brothers will suffer. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg." Fucker had the audacity to stroll around the room in a perfect arc, ending up back where he started—behind that fucking ornate wooden desk he was so proud of. "After I’ve made them suffer, I’ll make you suffer. I’ll take everything you’ve ever loved, everything you’ve ever wanted, every last ounce of joy in your life, and I will destroy it. And you’ll be powerless to do anything but watch."
"I dare you to try, old man." My whole body was alive with rage, seething, uncontrollable rage that I turned into fuel. "Go right the fuck on ahead and try to hurt them. I’ll make sure you pay for it."
"I think you misunderstand me, Rowan." His nails tapped against the hard surface, beating a staccato rhythm into my brain that reminded me of nights in my childhood when he’d done the exact same thing just before making good on one of his many promises. "I’m not suggesting what might happen. I’m promising you what will happen. And when I’m done ruining them, when they’ve got nothing else to live for, I’ll come for you." His man appeared at the door to his study, and Father flicked a cursory glance in his direction, sending him off with a little nod. "I’m all out of time to give you, boy. Run along now, and make sure you finish what you started seven years ago. In a timely manner this go-round."
"There are a million and one ways to make money, and you know them all. Why the fuck do you have to kill Harper to get it? What makes her money so damned important?"
"I have my reasons."
"She’s an innocent. She doesn’t deserve this?—"
Father chuckled, quirking a brow in my direction. "You know, Rowan, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re in love with the bitch." His eyes narrowed dangerously as he parsed through that line of thought.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Any response to his assumption would give me away. And revealing my newest weakness would only give him more ammunition against me.
"I won’t do it."
In a flash, he lunged over the desk between us and grabbed me around the neck, dragging me toward him until we were eye to eye, nose to nose. His hand was weathered and worn down, but it still managed to steal the breath from my lungs, cutting off my oxygen quite efficiently. Giving him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me was what he wanted, so of course, I refused to do just that. I’d die right here in his office before I let him think he’d won.
"You’d better not try any of your games, Rowan. I’ve been playing them far longer than you have, and I’m much more experienced at them than you. My reach is further than you could ever imagine." His grip tightened, and spots danced at the edge of my vision. I could break from his hold at any moment, yet I stood there like a frozen little child, like we’d rewound the clock twenty years, dredging up all sorts of buried trauma in one fell swoop. "If you come for me, there are others in the wings, ready to make sure you all suffer for your rebelliousness. If you think about subverting me, I will make good on the promise to ruin your lives. And if Harper fucking Daniels isn’t dead in less than forty-eight hours, all three of you unfilial sons of mine will lose everything you have in this world, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the sweet embrace of death. You will welcome it, after I’m through with you." His hand released me just as I began to pass out, and I sucked in great lungfuls of air, fighting to stay conscious. "So choose your move wisely, Rowan. Because it just might be your last."
He let me stagger from his office with a mocking laugh echoing at my back, filling his room with the taste of something sour as the doors closed on the most miserable man ever to have walked this earth.
I’d never been happier to leave that house behind.
It had never been home.
And now, it only contained terrible memories and my inevitable undoing.
I couldn’t lose my brothers, but I also couldn’t lose her. Not again. To solve this situation, I needed the one thing I didn’t have— time.
And the clock was still ticking.
The drive back to the Guild was a long one. When I walked into the common living room of our shared living quarters, the clock read nearly four in the morning. I didn’t expect to find the apartment silent and dark, not a soul in sight. And yet, that was exactly what greeted me.
Strange.
Nash was usually up until dawn, hence why he wasn’t a morning person in any sense of the word. Even the coffee pot hadn’t been reset to go off in the morning, if the absence of the indicator light was anything to go on.
What was going on here?
Angel’s door was closed, but his shoes and motorcycle helmet sat on the rug by the door, so I knew he was here. I could hear the faint echoes of a guitar behind Nash’s door, something I hadn’t heard in a long ass time from him .
So where was Harper?
I found her in my bed, of all places, curled into a ball dead center, hair like a halo around her head. Dead asleep.
Why don’t you crawl into bed with her?
Because I didn’t deserve to lay next to her when I was supposed to kill her. That was why. Just the thought of tainting her with my presence made me sick. She deserved better than a man who took the job to end her life.
If I could find a way out of this, one I could live with, then everything would be fine. But there weren’t many options left to me, and I was running out of time. Saving my brothers always took priority in my life, but saving Harper was just as important. If my father had his way, though, I couldn’t have my cake and eat it, too. I would have to choose.
And I’d already screwed that up once before. I’d had seven years to learn from my mistakes, and yet here I was, about to make the same one all over again.
With a last look of longing in Harper’s direction, I closed the door behind me and posted up on the futon in the office, wrapped in the scent of Harper’s body wash as I drifted into a tumultuous sleep.