Chapter Forty-One
Brynne
Work has been draining today and I’m itching to kill again. I don’t know if it’s because the boys are always around making me antsy, or because I can sense that I’m getting closer to who I’ve been tracking all of these years. Images of last night flash in my head and I touch the cuts on my collarbone underneath my shirt. It stings slightly, but I love the pain. I wish I could say I love the idea of being the boys just as much.
I like my time alone to paint and plot. Now my home is filled with testosterone and cocks every turn I take. I like being wanted and the sex is an added plus, but I don’t know if I’m cut out for this whole relationship, or whatever we are calling this arrangement. I want to believe that I have the capacity to love and to be in a relationship, but with four men it changes things.
I want to know more about them, but not if it means I have to open up about myself. I don’t know how to tell them what actually happened to me. Retelling Clara was hard enough, let alone retelling it to men. I know the boys are different, but there is a tiny part of me that will always despise men in some sort of way. Maybe with time it will be something I can unlearn, but I don’t see how.
I don’t get the same disgusted feeling when I look at
the guys and I think that shows that I am growing or whatever those self-help books call it. I look up at my clock and hurry to pack my bag. I need to get my hands dirty and I haven’t painted in days. If the boys are home, then they will have to occupy themselves.
“Headed out for the day?” Adam asks from the doorway of his office.
“ Yeah, it's that time,” I point to the watch on my wrist. Adam looks out the window and then back to me again. He looks like he is on edge, but with the little performance yesterday, I would be too.
“D-drive careful and I'll see you tomorrow,” he says before turning back to the window.
“Sure thing,” I say. He is acting scared, but of what? I open the door to the office and the crisp air hits my face. It’s getting cold for October already. Halloween is in a few weeks and I am actually excited for it. I don’t know why the image of carving pumpkins with the guys pops into my head. I don’t do those things, especially not with other people. I can’t be going soft.
I pull out of my parking spot and as soon as I round the corner my phone rings. I see Clara’s face pop up and instantly answer it.
“ What do I owe the pleasure?” I say sarcastically.
“The guys didn’t want me to tell you and part of me agrees with them, but now that you’re leaving work,” she
pauses. “Is anyone following you? ”
I look in my mirror and don’t see anyone following me. I turn around to look in my backseat as fast as I can without swerving my car into oncoming traffic. Nothing is there. “What’s going on?” I ask urgently.
“ Damon got a text this morning and it was about you. Remember the guy who threatened him about Epson?”
“What did the text say?” I ask.
“It was a picture of you. I don’t think he would do
anything, but you need to be extra cautious around Epson. He is being hunted and so is Damon. You’re caught right in the middle Brynne. I don’t like this,” Clara pushes.
“I’m fine,” I pause. “Wait why didn’t the guys want you to tell me?”
“Sawyer thought that if you were to act differently it would tip off whoever is following Epson and maybe he would take the opportunity to get to Damon through you,” Clara clears her throat. I don’t say anything because I know more is coming. “Do you know if this is truly what you want Brynne? I mean with the guys.”
I think about her words and each of their faces pops up in my head. Now that I’ve had a piece of them, I’m curious to know more about them. I don’t know if I’d be okay with letting them go. I may get annoyed sometimes with them all in my space, but I can lock myself in my studio or tie them up in the basement for some quiet.
“Yes, I know it doesn’t make sense, but Clara,” I take a deep breath. “I think I actually feel something when they’re around. I know it sounds crazy, but,” I don’t get to finish my sentence because Clara cuts me off .
“It's not crazy. I feel that way with Lauren. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I just want to make sure you're safe Brynne. I’d lose my shit if you got hurt,” Clara exclaims.
“You will never have to worry about that. I’m pulling into the driveway now. Thank you for always being there for me Clara.”
“Of course. I’ll talk to you later after you get filled in on the plan.” She hangs up before I get to ask more questions. Why does it seem like she knows something I don’t? Also, why the hell would the guys think I wouldn’t be able to act normal knowing someone was following Epson? I wonder if that is why he was acting weird at the office today. Does he already know someone is watching him?
I walk into the house and set my bag down on the table. Ryker walks out of the kitchen in an apron and wipes his hands on one of my washcloths. I try to hide my smirk but fail miserably. My anger toward them diminishes a little bit.
“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t want to get sauce on my clothes,” he shrugs. I sniff the air and smell garlic coming from the kitchen. I walk toward the entrance and Ryker steals a kiss from me. “Dinners done,” he says innocently.
How is this man the same one who just murdered
someone with me a few days ago? It's like two separate people live in each of us and I’m slowly getting to see the other side of each of them. Besides Damon, he is still a mystery to me besides the younger version of him in my memories.
“Did I hear that dinner is done?” Matteo yells from the living room. He is in the kitchen moments later. “There’s my dinner,” he winks and wraps his arms around my waist. He pulls me into his warmth. My mind becomes fuzzy and everything I was thinking becomes a distant memory. I can't sort through my emotions and don’t know if I like this sort of comfortability or not. Is this how normal people live their lives?
“Where’s Damon and Sawyer?” I ask. Ryker and Matteo both look out the window and I see both of them
walking out of the woods together. I think about last night and how Damon fucked Sawyer. I didn’t know Damon swung both ways, but I’m the same way. Pleasure is pleasure regardless of who gives it to you. They walk side by side through my backyard. There’s so much familiarity and I have this funny feeling in my chest. I don’t know if it's envy or jealousy, but I want to know them like that.
I’ve never wanted to know more about someone than I do with the boys. I can’t expect them to open up to me if I don’t do the same. Can I?
“Are you hungry Brynne baby?” Ryker asks, making me snap out of my thoughts. Matteo opens my cabinet door and grabs the plates. It’s like they have lived here as long as I have. They already know where everything is. I feel my heart start to race and I begin to sweat. I want this to be my new normal, but I don’t know how to with being alone for so long.
“Brynne?” Matteo says, but it sounds fuzzy in my ears. The room starts to spin and I know I’m about to pass out. I must have forgotten to drink water today. Wait, what’s the date? I know I drank water. It must be my time of the month. I get extremely tired and nauseous when I’m about to start, but I only pass out in extreme situations.
“Water,” I croak before falling to the floor. There are cold fingers on my cheek when I finally come to. I smile when I look up into Damon’s icy blue eyes. I slowly reach up and touch his black lip ring and run my thumb over his lips.
“Don’t you ever do that shit again Brynne,” Ryker says. I slowly look over at him kneeling at my side. I’m surrounded by all four of them and I want to tell them everything. All of it so they will stay. I want this to work, but I don’t know how. They said they weren’t going anywhere, but why?
“Why?” I whisper.
“Why? Because you scared the shit right out of me,” Ryker starts.
“ No, why are you guys here?” I finally get out.
Damon’s chest rises and falls. That night plays in my head and my heart picks up its pace. Like a dog recognizing their owner, except I don’t know how it feels to be owned. I don’t even know if I want to be owned. I have plans and they need to be sought out. I can’t have someone holding me back, but the thought of being wanted is something I’ve never experienced. Being truly wanted for something more than to break me down and to use me is so foreign.
“What do you mean? We told you why last night,” Matteo answers from my head in his lap. Sawyer grabs my hand and runs his thumb over my chilled skin.
“We’re here to protect you Brynne,” he says.
“That’s not what she means,” Damon interjects.
“Brynne,” he pauses. My eyes find him again and his eyes
soften. “I’ve been looking for you, for years. I never wanted to lose you after that night. You were mine far before you even knew it. We are here because we all have the same goal. Since we finally found you, our goal is now yours. Who you seek to destroy, is our purpose now, ”
“What happens after?” I ask innocently. I don’t like this feeling of vulnerability.
“What do you mean?” Ryker asks. I sit up slowly and look at all of them.
“Will you leave after we kill everyone on our list?” I ask. I know our lists will always be endless. We will never live to eradicate all of the people on our never-ending list, but we can take a few down to hell with us. Damon grabs my face and turns me toward him.
“I’m not leaving you again. Not now, not ever. You are ours and we are yours, little devil,” Damon professes. I should tell them that I want more, but the words don’t form. Damon claims my lips. Sawyer and Matteo finish setting the table and Ryker brings out the pasta and Italian bread. Damon carries me to the dining room table and places me at the head of the table. Each of them takes two seats on each side of the table. I feel like a queen seated with her most loyal companions.
Matteo takes a bite and hums. “Damn, I guess you weren’t lying when you said you could cook Ryker.” I take a bite and Ryker watches my every move.
“This is delicious, thank you.” Ryker blushes and I take it all in. “I could get used to this,” I let slip out. This is
something you would never see in a million years and here we are. Five serial killers enjoying dinner together.
???
I dip my fingers into the container of blood and smear it across my canvas. After dinner, I disappeared into my studio. I’m guessing the boys haven’t discovered this area of the house yet since they haven’t come knocking yet. I asked about the plan Clara was talking about over dinner. Sawyer explained everything and I couldn’t stop thinking about killing David.
Max’s words ring in my head over and over. I don’t like waiting to kill someone, but I know we have to plan David. Only two more days. I should be able to find something to occupy my time before then.
“That’s perfect,” Sawyer interrupts my painting. He leans against the door frame.
“I didn’t think any of you found this room yet. None of you have come to find me yet,” I explain.
“Believe it or not, we are good at keeping ourselves occupied,” Sawyer smirks. He walks over to my canvas and analyzes it. “You’re so talented, Brynne.”
“What’s your hidden talent?” I blurt out. Sawyer turns toward me and his brown hair sways. His hazel eyes meet mine and I sink further into my chair. I don’t know what it is about Sawyer, but after that night in the motel, I can't shake this feeling toward him. He is so gentle and I’m not used to it. My guard is constantly fighting within myself to stay up but also come down when he is around.
Usually, I don’t have to work so hard to stay blank when it comes to my emotions. It’s like I’m malfunctioning and it's all of these guys' fault. “I guess just computers,” Sawyer says.
I narrow my eyes. “There has to be more you're interested in than computers,” I push. He grabs the other stool from the corner and drags it next to me.
“I can’t tell you a secret unless you tell me one in
return,” he offers. I think about it for a moment and then nod toward him. “ I don’t think the guys know this, but I like gardening. You know growing your own food and shit. I don’t know if it's just the desire to have an abundance of food at my hands, or from the countless years in foster care with little food that fueled my interest,” Sawer pauses. “Your little garden is interesting by the way. I like the addition of Belladonna you have back there. I wonder what on earth you use that for,” he laughs.
I kiss his lips and he relaxes. “You’re turn,” he urges.
“I like painting with the blood of my victims,” I shrug. “They say killers need trophies to relive the murder or to go visit the scene of the crime. I guess this is my trophy in a way. I like to paint their eyes, the fear in them. I can tell so much about someone just by looking into their eyes,” I explain.
Sawyer caresses my cheek. “What do my eyes tell you?” he asks.
“That you have a pure heart, and I would never have to worry about you hurting me,” I say without thinking.
“Does that scare you?”
“Yes,” I admit. Sawyer kisses me and then sits back and nods toward the canvas. “That’s it?” I say.
“I want to watch you paint. We will all get to know
everything about each other when you’re ready. I’m in no rush, I’m not going anywhere. None of us are Brynne,” Sawyer clasps his hands in his lap and watches as I make another swipe with my fingers. I’ve never had an audience when I painted. I like it. He stays silent and lets me enjoy painting with his quiet company.