32. Carter
THIRTY-TWO
CARTER
When I was at Emory, I always thought of my time as borrowed, like I was racing against a ticking clock, and being back with Tyson and Jasper has renewed that feeling, every moment speeding past at a rate that I can only chase, never fully able to reach or pass.
One minute, we’re having the time of our lives, remembering how it felt to just be together, and the next we’re in a full blown firefight, all culminating with this insane idea to turn back around toward California.
Go back to the place I grew up as nothing but a kid in the mafia.
Go back to the place I was morphed into a trained murderer.
Go back to the place where I was tortured into submission.
Go back to the person responsible for it all: my father.
Admittedly, I have mixed feelings about the man who raised, taught, and trained me, but ultimately betrayed me, when he didn’t approve or agree with my behavior.
I’m not like Jasper, having grown up with intricate fantasies about ways I could end my father’s life.
I’m not like Tyson, having grown up pushing back on the violence, and in turn, hating my father for choices he made for me.
I’m just Carter, having grown up as the girl who – up until recently – obeyed orders, followed in large footsteps to the T, and worshiped the ground my father walked on.
Right now, It’s easy to make a decision that’ll end his life, and give me back mine, but the little girl who thrived in his shadow is heartbroken at the thought of pulling that trigger.
On top of being shot for the first time, I lashed out at one of my boys, laying my hands on him in an aggressive way, but I’m so fucking torn, so fucking broken, that I allowed my shattered pieces to hurt others, and it didn’t ease my pain in the slightest.
Still, flashes of being kept prisoner ring loudly in my head, the reminders of being forced to marry a man who abused me leading the charge, and slowly, I’m coming to terms with what needs to be done.
A line has been drawn: me or him, and like last time, I’m choosing us.
It’s almost as if I can hear his voice, echoing in my head on an endless, cruel loop, taunting me for the choices I’m making but a quick brush of skin along my cheek reminds me that this is reality, and he’s on the other end of the phone.
“Carter, this road trip is ridiculous. You know that wherever you go, I’ll find you. Your little boyfriends are skilled, I’ll give them that, but Tyson’s plans won’t keep you safe. Only I can do that, my Duchess,” he says, calm, cool and collected as if we aren’t actively trying to kill each other.
“I’m not your fucking Duchess,” I snark, rolling my eyes as Jasper slows down, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror, but the car feels like it’s moving at a snail’s pace while the blood rushes to my head, everything spinning at a rapid pace.
“You are my daughter, and in nine days, you’ll be married to Vincent.
Do not make me send for you again, Carter, because it won’t end with any of you breathing free air for the rest of your lives.
” His tone hardens, and when I was younger, that aggressive switch into the mafia Don persona was enough to scare me straight, but now, it only fuels my fire, the venom rolling off my tongue with ease.
“If you come at us, you better not miss again, that much I can promise you. You know what the Cassini’s say about promises, right Dad?
” I hit him right in the Family legacy, hoping he’ll think twice about who it is he’s attacking, but if I were in his presence, he’d backhand me without second thought for my disrespectful attitude.
This energy in this car has shifted, each of us holding our breath as we wait for what he’ll hit me with next, but my heart rate hasn’t slowed since I answered the call, and I’m so fucking high off adrenaline, the rush coming from the courage I’m pulling out of thin air.
Normally, I’d never stand up to my father this bluntly, especially after Jersey, but all while he thought he was breaking my spirit, I was rebuilding the places he damaged, gearing up to aim straight for his crown.
Tyson gently rubs circles along my thigh, the gesture reassuring as I wield my power, using the gift of my sharp tongue to notch us a win we so desperately need.
“You were destined for greatness. You were born to lead with an iron fist, but you gave all of that up for some inbred playboys from the East. You don’t need to remind me about our Family's legacy, Carter, when you’re the one who seems to have forgotten how we handle traitors.
I expect you in no more than nine days,” he finally says, and I exhale a breath, rolling my eyes at the delusional ideas of family that he’s clinging to.
Our legacy was decimated the second he chose to deploy me to Emory, flashbacks of begging to stay with him, pleading for a different mission, and bargaining every chip I could to remain home come barreling back, but he forced me into the lion’s den, turning me into the woman I am at this very moment.
I’ve become his greatest adversary.
“Don’t waste your breath on me anymore, save them for your precious oxygen tank because if I ever see you again, you’re going to need every single drop of that free air,” I threaten, a powerful surge of rage coursing through my veins, but I don’t dare celebrate, not until he’s the one who concedes by ending this call first.
“Better step on the gas, Duchess. That tiny car won’t make it in time at this rate,” he snarks, and I hear Jasper inhale sharply, feel Tyson’s body tense against mine, but I’m focused on my target, treating this as if we’re face-to-face on the battlefield, not allowing my mask to slip in the slightest.
“Goodbye, Daddy,” I challenge, seeing if he’ll step into the ring for another round, but instead, I’m granted a victory the second he inhales another breath.
“See you soon, Duchess.” The phone clicks, signaling the end of the call, and I drop my head against the seat, staring up at the ceiling with a smile that couldn’t be surgically removed on my face.
“Jesus fucking Christ! How does he know everything?” Jasper shouts, his fists banging against the steering wheel, shaking the frame of the car, but I pay him no mind, allowing him to work through his thoughts as he does best – violently.
“More importantly, how are you such a carbon copy of him?” Tyson adds, and I can’t help the laugh that bubbles from my chest, reacting to something that I’ve heard a million times over.
“Everyone back home always says we were meant to be twins, not father and daughter. My entire personality is his, but so is my willpower, fight, and merciless spirit,” I say, finally meeting both of their gazes, but their energy doesn’t match mine, a level of deflation hanging in the air that I wasn’t expecting.
Nobody knows my father as well as I do, but my boys can usually read my mind, body language, and heart with ease, so their less-than-excited spirits are concerning.
“Why do you both look like someone killed your cat? We got him right where we wanted,” I cheer, almost as giddy as I get when dabbling on the darker side, but I’m met with two worried faces that could erase my high, or drop me to my knees.
“He’s not backing off. We’re right back where we started,” Tyson says, but I shake my head, not wanting to hear the defeat in his voice.
“He’s never going to back down, that’s exactly what Jasper just said.
This isn’t new information, but instead, I got him worked up, and when he’s not clear-headed, he makes mistakes.
When I was old enough to be the rational angel on his shoulder, I talked him off many a cliffs, most of which were molehills compared to the mountain that I am,” I explain, and while Tyson doesn’t seem convinced, Jasper nods along like he’s with me, which is all I need to keep going.
Having them in my corner on the horizon of the biggest battle I’ll ever face is irreplaceable, and when my strength threatens to falter, Jasper and Tyson are the only two reasons I need to keep fighting.
“What’s the next move, Carter?” Jasper asks, his gaze locked onto the road, and suddenly, the rest of the world comes into focus, the trees blowing by my peripherals as I return to reality, the high of standing up to my father slowly fading.
There’s a million ways we could do this, a few scenarios that stick out as the most rational, but a devilish grin spreads across my lips, something so sinister that I couldn’t have thought of it unless I conquered the fear my father held over me.
“Let’s go to my fucking wedding.”