Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
SYLAS
“Two whole fucking months,” I groan, sliding down in my chair. “I hate summer.”
“For a man who heads one of the most powerful families in the states, you sure do sound like a whiny bitch,” Wesley dryly taunts, blowing out a billow of smoke from where he sits in his chair, leg slung over the armrest as he leans to one side.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Jasper hisses, snatching the cigarette from Wesley’s hand before tossing it into the sink, and turning the water on to put it out. “We’re on a fucking airplane. There's no smoking allowed.”
“It’s a private jet,” Wesley drolls, rolling his eyes. “That we own. The rules don’t apply here.”
“It does when I don’t want to smell your cancer stick for the next eight fucking hours,” Jasper mutters, taking his seat.
He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes as he lets his head fall back. “I hate flying.”
“We know,” both Wesley and I say at the same time.
Jasper opens one eye. “So, you can bitch about not getting your dick wet, but I can’t make a comment on how I hate being locked up in a metal tin can in the sky?”
Shifting in my seat, I move until I’m sitting, leaning over with my arms on my thighs. “Two months, Jasper. Two months of just my hand. Does that sound like fun to you?” I ask, raising a brow.
“It doesn’t bother me in the slightest.” He shrugs, closing his eyes.
“Bullshit,” Wesley snorts. “You might like to pretend that you’ve got your shit together better than we do, that you’re Mr. In Control.
But you don’t, you're not. You need that release, that burst of unfiltered power, that chance to let go and allow all your dark fucked up urges to be released. Ninety percent of the time, we’re businessmen; we do our jobs, and we do them well.
We deserve that ten percent to just let go without any consequences. ”
Jasper huffs in annoyance as he slides back in his chair until he’s sitting up fully, eyes open.
“Maybe you're right. But that doesn't mean we can act like it’s the end of the world.” He turns his attention to me.
“You will live. Trust me. You’re not going to die if you're not cumming on some girl's face or making her beg for her life. This summer is important. You are the head of BioReid Pharmaceutical now. And the head of your family. Playtime is over, boys. The three of us are officially the leaders of the Brotherhood, on top of the fact that you and Wesley are running million-dollar companies.”
“Or… hear me out. He could hire someone to do all the work and just be included in any big company-changing decisions, just like our fathers did before we took over,” Wesley throws out, producing a vape from his pocket.
I roll my lips together, trying to hide the grin threatening to take over my lips at the pissy look Jasper throws back at him.
“It’s a vape, not a cig.” Wesley takes a puff before blowing it out. “Cotton candy flavor. Want some?”
Jasper snarls at him, and I can’t help the chuckle that slips free. Jasper’s glare swings my way.
“Do what you want if running the company outright isn’t something you want to do.
That still doesn’t change the fact that we’re here to make important decisions.
My father sent me as a test to see if I’m ready to take his place soon, and I have no plans on failing him.
As soon as I graduate this year, I will take my spot as CEO of the company. ”
Jasper’s father is still currently running the company, because there’s no real reason for Jasper to take over right now. Mr. Park is a smart businessman who knows what he’s doing.
Unlike our fathers.
However, he did step down as head of the Park family, one of the founding families of the Brotherhood, a long time ago. The moment he met his wife, he had no interest in taking part in the rituals.
He’s still a part of the Brotherhood, but the power was handed to his younger brother. That was until he died two years ago in a boating accident.
That's when Jasper stepped up and took his place in the Brotherhood.
Followed by Wesley. Wesley took over as CEO and is the head of his family’s company, as well as one of the leaders of the Brotherhood, because his dumbass, useless father was at risk of running everything into the ground.
He almost lost it all until we forced his father’s hand and made him step down, which subsequently left Wesley to take his place earlier than planned.
It’s a work in progress, but Wesley hired a whole team of people to get it back on track.
His father wasn’t happy about not having endless access to money for his whores and gambling addiction.
As for his mother, the woman thinks it’s the end of the world because she can’t buy another purse that she’s never going to use, shoes she’s never going to wear, or a fucking yacht she rides on one time before forgetting about it.
Wesley is nice enough to let her keep getting Botox because trust me, no one wants to see her face when she misses her injections.
My situation is similar to Wesley’s. I’m both head of the company as well as holding my family's position in the Brotherhood. A process that was long and fucking taxing.
But so, so worth it.
You see, my father was a sick bastard. And that's not saying much because most people in the Brotherhood don’t have many morals.
I grew up watching that bastard beat my mother daily. He got a sick satisfaction at making her cry, at hearing her beg for mercy.
All while I had to sit back and watch, unable to do anything about it. Not that I didn’t try, I did. When things got bad, I tried to fight back, but he was bigger, stronger.
I paid the price with broken bones and bruises. It wasn’t until he started threatening my younger sister, Calliope, that I found the strength and a way to stop it.
As much as it killed me to watch my mother in pain, to see her so broken and defeated, she was an adult and could technically fight for herself. But my sister was just a young kid. I wasn’t going to allow that to happen to her.
I couldn’t protect my mother, but I’d die protecting my sister.
My father saw my sister as nothing more than a parasite. He believed that women had no business in our world, and for the most part, that's true. No woman has ever been of value or a part of the Brotherhood.
Still, most women who had family members in the Brotherhood were at least treated with basic respect. They were their daughters, their wives, their mothers, and sisters.
To my father, Callie was nothing but a mistake. Not to be seen or heard.
She went to school like all the other kids, but outside of that, she was locked away in our house. Sure, she had all the toys a kid could want, a pool, and even a fucking pony.
What's the point of all that if you're alone?
That's why the guys and I did our best to make her happy. We took care of her, made sure she was loved and hardly alone.
Sadly, as we got older and took on more responsibilities, our time with her became less and less.
When I was twelve, my mother died. She killed herself, unable to take any more of my father’s abuse. It nearly broke me. For years, I hated myself—blamed myself for not doing more.
Of course, dear old Pops couldn’t have the world think he was the reason she was gone, not when they put on the perfect persona of a happy couple. People never saw the bruises, never saw the scars. She always covered up with makeup.
But I did. I saw every single mark on her skin.
He told the world she died of cancer, that the reason she looked so tired and weak was because she was battling it in private.
At her funeral, I almost pulled the gun from one of the security guard’s holsters and shot him right in the head. If my age wasn’t a factor, I would have done it.
I was too young to have any claim on my place in the Brotherhood or the company. Someone else would have taken my place, leaving my sister to be placed god knows where with god knows who.
I’m not sure if I would have gone to jail for it, not sure if the power my family held would be extended to me in regard to a public execution.
I had to play the long game. Keep my head down, do as I was told, learn the ropes, and keep my sister safe.
That was the plan… in theory.
Mom wasn’t even cold in the ground before my father remarried. Only. Two. Fucking Months Later.
Starla Kinsmin was some money-hungry whore. Dad wanted a hot young thing, and didn’t even care about the fact that she was young enough to be our older sister.
I hated her from the moment I met her and knew something was wrong. She was too fake, and she tried too hard.
I had nothing on her until I found Callie with a black eye, crying in her room. I thought it was Dad, who had finally given in to his threat to hurt her.
Nope, it was Starla. Callie liked the color of her lipstick and used it. Starla found out and punched a fucking nine-year-old in the eye.
I didn’t tell my dad; he would have only said she deserved it.
Instead, I pushed for him to agree to send Callie to an all-girls boarding school. She hated the idea, and so did I. I didn’t want her away from me, where I couldn’t protect her. But I knew if she stayed under this roof, Starla would get worse.
Eventually, my father gave in. But not before Starla got in a few more shots at my sister.
I found her cutting Callie’s hair, saying she looked too much like my mother. Sick bitch was jealous of a child.
So, I took the scissors from her hand and chopped off half of her hair.
Starla lost it and started screaming like a banshee. She went right to my dad, and I ended up with a broken nose and cracked jaw.
It was worth it to see my sister smile through her tears.
Watching my sister go was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I made sure I did my best to visit her any chance I could, not wanting her to come back home until it was safe.
That's when I came up with my plan. I needed my dad gone, but not before I was in the position to be able to take over.