CHAPTER 35 ELODIE
ELODIE
I’ve read through the book. There’s nothing to it but engines and oil.
It must be a torture tactic. To give me the most boring book in the world and encourage my last slither of sanity to slip between the handlebars and out the exhaust. But it did give my brain something to do.
Still gave me stimulation that nothing else in this house has.
I won’t admit that to Caden though.
Not that I’ve had many opportunities to speak with him.
I’ve barely seen him since he handed it to me yesterday.
I should be pleased, should be grateful he can’t stand to be around me, but all it does is unnerve me.
I’m waiting for him to pop up like a Jack-in-the-box around every corner.
But I know he’s watching. I know he’s on his phone, staring through the cameras.
That’s why I don’t have Alfie acting as my shadow anymore, because Caden can always keep an eye on me now.
Nothing’s made my skin crawl more than that fact.
I’ve walked the halls already. I know my way around pretty well now.
To the places I need to get to anyway, which isn’t many in comparison to how many there are in this dark, miserable house.
There are still parts I haven’t ventured to and Alfie hasn’t shown me, so I’m guessing they’re out of bounds as well.
I make sure to throw my middle finger up at any camera I walk past, letting that creepy prick know that I know he’s there. And I hate him.
I trained with Alfie this morning, dodged Fiz’s groping hands all afternoon. Caden wasn’t there for dinner tonight, Fiz told me he’s resting from his injury. I’m hoping he doesn’t heal too well in the next couple days, so I can keep the edge for Hunt Night.
Fiz is nowhere to be seen. Maggie’s clearing away our plates in the dining room just beyond the lounge.
Alfie’s unboxing a delivery package on the coffee table.
I’m sitting on the sofa, watching him, an open packet of Hobnobs in my lap.
Alfie’s keeping the snack cupboard topped up now; it’s my one respite in this hellhole.
“Aha!” Alfie says, lifting out the contents of the cardboard box.
“What is it?”
“It’s a Zen garden.” He places the bags and smaller boxes on the table beside his Marvel Avengers Tower Lego set.
“A Zen garden?”
He nods, holding up a bag of sand. “You get to create your own little garden. Set up the stones how you want, the little ornaments, rake the sand. It’s supposed to be calming.”
I can’t help but grin at him. This big, tatted hunk of muscle and power gets excited over things like Legos and Zen gardens.
“Do you need something calming?”
“You have no idea,” he says, still smiling as he arranges the little bags in front of him.
He sets down the plate, opens the bag of sand, and pours it on.
I’ve never seen him so excited.
I watch him in awe, picking up the tiny rake in his massive, inked hand, and start pushing the sand all over the plate.
He’s so precious.
He loses himself in the process. I can see his eyes glaze over in concentration when he sees the tracks the rake leaves in the sand. I decide to leave him to his newfound serenity.
Getting up, I walk out the room, finding Maggie walking down to the garage with a basket full of products that look too heavy for her.
“Can I help with that?”
The sound of my voice makes her jump. “Gosh, girl, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I just wondered if you needed help – with the basket.”
She looks down at the basket, almost offended. “It would be improper for me to allow the lady of the house to help.”
“I’m hardly the lady of the house. Here,” I hold out my hands, “let me take it.”
I can see the sheen of sweat on her wrinkled forehead, see the slight tremble in her arms. Then the battle in her grey eyes between what she wants and what she thinks is right. So, I close the distance and ease the basket out of her hands.
It’s so heavy it shocks me for a moment that she could even pick it up to begin with.
I can see the physical ease in her hunched body as soon as I relieve her of the weight. “It’s going in the work garage.” She turns and walks ahead.
I follow, remembering Alfie’s coaching, keep the core engaged, my tailbone tucked.
I’m puffed by the time we get to the garage. I drop the basket on one of the work surfaces.
“Thank you,” Maggie mutters and sets about unloading the contents.
It’s all tools and cleaning products.
“Is this for Caden’s bike?”
She nods. “Among other things.”
“Can I help?”
She gestures to the clean cloths. “You can put them on that shelf over there.”
I do as she says, letting the silence fall over us like a foul smell.
I toy with the words on the tip of my tongue, something I’ve wondered ever since the day with Fiz in the DIY store. I figured I would ask Alfie, but I didn’t want to show him that I was even remotely interested in this family. I thought Maggie might be a safer bet.
Before I can think the better of it, the question slips free. “What’s the Blackwood law?”
Maggie’s body stills. She turns her head a little to glance over her shoulder. “You don’t know?”
“No. At least, I don’t understand it fully.”
She heaves in a wheezing breath.
“Blackwoods are boundless, ruthless, merciless, fearless and savage when required,” she recites as if it’s embedded in her brain. “They answer, bow, and listen to no one.
“Blackwoods retain their respect and reputation and remain lawless except for one law they must always abide by. Failure to obey this law will result in the death of the lawbreaker. A Blackwood will do no harm to another Blackwood.
“Any member of this invaluable bloodline who brings harm, injury, pain, or otherwise any form of physical wound to another member will suffer the only consequence deemed fit for this crime. Death.
“Blackwoods do not turn on each other. Without loyalty, without the bond that sets them apart from any other family, they are nothing.”
I soak in the words, clearly memorised and relayed flawlessly.
“Who passed the law?” I ask. “It’s not exactly something a non-royal family would have.”
She sighs, wiping down the counter. “Generations ago, when the Blackwoods decided to strive for status in the underworld and establish themselves as crime lords, two Blackwood brothers turned on each other. One wanted one thing, the other another. It ripped the family apart. One brother killed the other. It was their sister who stopped their entire foundation from crumbling. That’s also why Blackwoods deem always having a woman in their lives as prudent to their survival.
Women have an ability to soothe those angry men who only think with greed.
We think with reason. The sister brought the law in to stop any more Blackwoods dying from a mindless attack.
She also wanted something that would set them apart from the rest of the families in the crime world, unite them tighter than the rest. The sister was an intelligent, astute woman, she saw an opportunity, a way to gain advantage in a world she saw filled with power-hungry, brain-dead men. ”
I let the story work its way through my brain. So, all the misogyny Caden oozes, his father too – it’s the biggest contradiction of all. They abide by a law a woman created for them. This new knowledge fills my veins, cushions my muscles, then settles in my bones.
“What happened to her other brother? The one who murdered the other.”
“She killed him,” she says casually. “The story goes that she made him suffer for it, too. For his senselessness. And then she created the law, and the next time two Blackwoods clashed, the aggressor was killed by her hand, making the statement concrete. Once the men in the family realised it was serious, a bond was formed stronger than ever. It made them think before they acted out of rage. Better decisions were made, smarter moves were executed, and would you guess it? More money was made. It taught them control over their emotions. When death is lingering over your head, you tend to think for a second before attacking. Family is the most important thing on this planet. Whether that’s by blood and you’re born to them, or they’re found and you form a bond as strong as a bloodline.
In my opinion, some bonds formed from the latter have turned out to be stronger than those born of blood.
” She catches my eye at those words, and I feel her personal connection to them.
She’s not a Blackwood, but that’s not how they’ve made her feel.
My thoughts travel briefly to Fiz, wondering if he feels the same after getting so defensive over my comments during our riveting shopping trip.
I shake them off. I don’t care.
“Anyway, the last incident was only once more after that. Two cousins. One stabbed the other over a woman. Messy. The victim lived, but of course, the jealous, bitter stabber got executed.”
“Who does the executing? Is it a set person?”
“The victim, if surviving, will always be given the choice by whoever is king of the Blackwoods. If they do not wish to kill them themselves, or did not survive, then the king will.”
“King?” I frown. “But the sister wasn’t king?”
“No?” She turns to face me. “A woman cannot be king?”
I’m clearly missing something. “She’d be a queen, right?”
Maggie shakes her head as if I’m an idiot.
“By monarchy standards, the king is of higher rank, right? So, if a woman is heir, say, one daughter in the line, she’d be the queen.
She bares a son who would become king, and he is already seen as higher rank.
The sister didn’t take kindly to that image, after she became the heir and the men around her saw her as below her now-dead brothers.
And especially because it was thanks to her that the Blackwoods gained the power they did.
The heir is the almighty. They who take the throne is the ultimate.
So… if it is a woman to take it, she will be seen as king.
The highest rank. Almighty. And it stuck, especially after her determination to stitch her family back together.
The lengths she was willing to go to keep the Blackwoods united.
They don’t care about gender terms, they care about power. ”
A girl as king. Sounds badass.
“That’s enough history for today.” Maggie wipes her hands on her apron, looking suddenly flushed.
“I have work to do. You want a piece of advice, though? Don’t get between Caden and Alfie.
I see how they both look at you and it’s none of my business what goes on but…
” She taps a finger on the counter. “Just don’t cause trouble between them.
I’d like to think their bond is stronger than to let some Valor pussy fracture it, but they’re still men. Don’t do anything stupid.”
I scoff. “It’s not my issue how they deal with their feelings.”
Maggie rolls her eyes and gathers up her products. “You’ve got a lot to learn, girl.”
She disappears. Right. A woman is prudent to the men’s survival. So, what is she saying, they all expect me to solve their disputes? Break up their fights? I don’t even fucking like them. If Caden hurt Alfie, I’d be in the front row at his execution.
The thought slices through my conscience. Alright, maybe there are some things I should definitely keep to myself.
I can understand just the slightest bit more why my reputation is so important to Caden.
But the question is now, if the women in this family need to be as pristine as a brand-new trophy, why did Russell agree to this?
Why would he want this whore as his heir’s wife?
Unless Drago was the one who encouraged it.
I don’t know what was said between the two of them.
Drago only suggested the business merger.
It was Russell who offered my dad the marriage proposal. But what if the idea came from Drago?
The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine. I remember what he said to me. The words that still haunt my dreams. What if Drago’s lingering behind this union, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?
Caden’s devoted to protecting me because of his image, but does that extend to Drago – a man who outranks him? If Drago’s behind it, if he’s put me in this position just to cultivate me for something worse…
I need to get out of here.
I don’t believe this is the end of the line for me. Drago told me what he wanted, and Drago always gets what he wants.