Chapter 24
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
AIDEN
“So obviously you will write your own vows,” my mother muses as she goes over the seating arrangements for the wedding.
I give her a cold look in response. “Not in this lifetime.” Ari nods in agreement before me.
If I had something to say to her that was actually meaningful, I wasn’t going to do it in front of a crowd of self-serving assholes.
We had already given enough when it came to the wedding.
Ari had agreed to the color palette, location, and some gaudy dress that I wanted to burn to appease her.
But I was stepping in on this one. There was just no way.
“Aiden, it’s tradition, and The Order will expect it.”
Slamming my coffee mug down on the table, I fix my mom with a hard stare.
“Frankly, mother, I don’t give two fucks what The Order expects.
I am about to be the head of it after Initiation night, so they will be taking orders from me.
We have made all the concessions we are going to make, and if you don’t stop, we will go to city hall and get it over with.
” The thought brings a smile to my face.
Whisking Ari away, just us, vowing to be together till death.
“Aiden,” my mother warns under her breath.
But I hold firm. I can’t get Ari everything she wants with this wedding, but I can relieve her stress with this. “No. End of discussion.”
Pushing her breakfast away, she slams her chair back and storms out of the room, but not before getting in the last word.
“You will attend the rehearsal dinner. Due to some scheduling conflicts, it is before the wedding by almost a month. Do not embarrass me. And I will be talking to Anthony about your ungrateful attitude.”
I roll my eyes at her back while Ari tries to control her giggles. Raising my eyebrow, I tease her, “Something funny, little venom?”
She wipes her mouth with her napkin, taking a moment to control herself before responding. “Oh, just thinking of Anthony trying to punish you for saying no to this. He should probably spank you.”
The visual alone has a deep laugh escaping me.
Me bent over on Anthony’s knee as he swats my ass.
Nah, that’s too tame for the man with the reputation of a tyrant.
“Ari, that man is more likely to put a bullet in my ass than spank me.” Ari chokes at that, and I smile behind my mug, relishing in the newfound easiness between us.
Once she collects herself, Ari looks over at me and asks, “What are you doing today?”
“I need to go to the bank, and then Mother set up a tux fitting. What a joy that will be,” sarcasm drips from my tone. I already own two, but apparently they weren’t good enough for the wedding. Everything must be new and cost a fortune, from what I can tell.
Ari smirks. “Well, let’s hope the tailor doesn’t wind up in the morgue by the end of the appointment.”
Ha. “Ari, there is always a chance of that for anyone who is in my presence.” Standing from my spot, I walk over to her and kiss the top of her head, teasing her a little more because I can’t resist. “That includes you, little venom.”
Ari blushes but doesn’t back down. Good girl. “Aiden, one look at my pussy and you would be balls deep inside of me, pleasuring me instead of torturing me.”
Well, she’s not lying.
“Plus,” she pauses, looking at Gage by the door, “Gage would protect me from you.”
White-hot rage boils my blood thinking of Gage saving her from me. Never. It would not be allowed. I would kill him first if he tried to take her from me. The reaper inside of me twitches, gnawing at its cage.
Gage doesn’t say anything, but I can see the spark in his eye. Which infuriates me even more.
Walking out of the room, I take a moment to pause by the door, making sure Ari’s attention is on me.
“We’ll see about that.” Cocking my fist back, I slam it into Gage’s stomach.
He grunts and hunches over as I depart the room.
“That’s a warning. Now get your thumb out of your ass; I need to go to the bank. ”
The ride to the bank is silent, with Gage only giving me a side-eye when he hops into the passenger seat.
Sometimes he will sit in the back with me, but I think after my threat he’s leery of getting too close for a bit.
I scroll over on my phone to my camera roll and queue the photos to the top.
The oldest photos in here started about a decade ago, shortly after we moved.
I discovered that I like to come back to the things I watch. Or touch. Or kill.
The first few photos are just places that I like to scope out, spots that I could hide that would give me a good vantage point.
Alleyways, hallways, and a few staircases.
Just so I wouldn’t forget. Then it slowly becomes pictures of devices I could use for torture.
Things I saw online or passed by when I was walking around the city that I thought could pack a punch or would leave unique markings.
Lots of photos of acid vats. But I quickly found out that wasn’t good for Ashton’s research, so I put more of my focus on different knives that I liked.
My Christmas list when I was twelve could have rivaled Dr. Jekyll’s. He might even have been impressed.
Scrolling past that, I find a picture I took when I was thirteen of crushed flowers on the ground. I took this in a fit of anger, as a reminder to myself.
I see you looking at me, Arianna. Do you want me to kiss you?
I…I can’t. Not like this…
But really, over the years, it morphed into a photo album of them. Brodie and Ari together. Moments captured on film of hand-holding in the garden, kissing in the stairwell, fucking in his bed or on the patio or in the greenhouse—literally all over the property.
My favorite picture was one where Brodie had Ari in his arms, kissing her underneath the rose-covered trellis, but his eyes were open, and he was looking directly at me.
He’d paused after I took the photo, whispered something in her ear that I couldn’t decipher, and then lifted her dress up with his palms and exposed her delicious backside to me.
Jealousy curls up inside of me as I remember taking that photo, but it’s not as suffocating as it was before.
The feeling doesn’t make me feel like I’m drowning in a pool of blood or choking on life.
It’s still a familiar feeling, but one I have started to become more accepting of.
It helps a little that I can feel Ari softening toward me.
Even when she says she is not. My venomous little liar.
Pocketing my phone, I exit the car and head into the bank. After speaking with the manager, I am led into a steel room. Thousands of lockboxes cover the walls. Handing over the key, I wait as the woman assisting me retrieves my box—well, Brodie’s.
At first, I wasn't even sure I wanted to check out the box because it was from Brodie and fuck him.
But the closer I get to Ari, the more I think I should put in the effort to hunt down Brodie's killer.
To bring some closure and maybe a little more peace to our marriage.
Even if she brings him into the bedroom with us, which I find that I don't entirely hate.
I rub the feeling in my chest and brush it off.
Lockbox first. Hauntingly erotic ghost sex later.
The manager leaves quietly after placing the box on the desk, informing me she will be just outside the door when I’m ready to leave. I have no idea what Brodie could have left for me that needed to be hidden from everyone else. Sure, he had secrets, but now I’m wondering just how deep they went.
I insert the key and twist. The lid pops open, and to say I am confused would be an understatement.
My brow furrows as I try to decipher what I am looking at.
Brodie appears to have left me with a bloody handkerchief and a set of keys.
Upon further examination, I notice the keys are identical.
Okay, that makes sense, a matching pair.
But what is it supposed to open? There doesn’t appear to be a note or clue left behind unless the handkerchief is supposed to tell me something.
The blood on the fiber of the handkerchief appears to be fairly old. It has oxidized and turned a more brownish rust color than deep red.
Clearly not getting any more information from this here, I pocket both items and exit the bank.
The keys open something, and I know the handkerchief will tell me if I can decipher whatever fucking clue Brodie thinks he left for me.
Maybe I can have Ashton take a look and run some tests.
If he’s not too busy mind-fucking his pet, that is.