Chapter 2
WYLDER
I bring Neo back home in complete silence. I say nothing the entire drive, and he doesn’t either. It’s a feat of the gods. I can see him wriggling in his seat, wanting to blabber, but for some reason, he’s holding his tongue.
I want to know why he’s quiet.
It reeks of something dangerous.
“Do not even think about it,” I say as soon as we’re at the front door, my eyebrow arching.
He rolls his eyes and shoves in front of me, disappearing before I can blink.
It’s one of the downsides of having such a large house. Neo can disappear at a whim. It’s something he does often. I can’t decide what’s more annoying—how often he vanishes, or when he turns up at the worst possible moments.
It has to be the former. I sigh, rolling my shoulders. Who knows what he’s going to get into. Whatever it is, I have no doubt about the mess he’ll leave behind.
And who will be cleaning it up.
Dotty, my housekeeper, turns a corner and comes to a stop when she sees me. I swear she dislikes me the most. I don’t know why, but she always finds ways to pick at my already frayed nerves.
Just yesterday, she mopped over my leather shoes, despite my having moved them for her. She lifted that mop on purpose and wet my shoes down to my socks.
I saw the glimmer in her eye when she did it, too.
She felt no remorse.
With no one else to ask, I paste a smile on my face. “Hello, Dotty. Did you see which way the pest went?”
She stares at me, a rag in her one hand, a spray bottle in the other. My eyelid starts to twitch. If she sprays me with whatever cleaner is in there, I may have to fire her.
I can’t. I know that. Dotty knows too much. She might even know where the bodies are buried.
I wish that were just a metaphor.
“I’ve seen no one all day,” she says, her voice even.
My brows rise at that, because I can assure you that Cade and Ansel have made an appearance, at least to come out for some food. “Are you trying to cover something up?”
She scoffs and then bustles past me, a soft hiss of something spraying as she turns a corner.
If that was bleach, I may not make it through the night.
I may burst into flames.
Neo will probably dance around them.
I shrug off my jacket and bring it to my nose. Vinegar. That witch. I make my way to my office and slam the door. What I really need to do is find Neo before he discovers new ways to push my buttons.
Buttons that my monster quite likes. Or is it the pushing he likes?
Either way, it doesn’t lead anywhere good. Neo doesn’t know what he’s playing with, but I do.
I won’t allow it to happen.
I sit down in my chair and lean back, the creak of leather resounding around the room as I get comfortable. I really need to open up my laptop and get to work. There’s an overwhelming number of things to do for the scholarship program I run.
That’s another can of worms entirely. It’s a project I created after realizing I have more money than I know what to do with and that there are people out there who don’t have the means or ability to change the circumstances they were born into.
I wanted to help.
The only problem is the paperwork, and god, don’t even get me started on the emails.
There are so many fucking emails.
If I knew back then what I do now, I’d have scrapped the plan entirely.
That’s not fair. I know it does good. An immense amount. It’s not enough to clear the blood from my ledger—no amount of charitable work can do that—but it helps me to sleep a little better at night. I’ll settle for that.
At least, it did, until a certain brat with an attitude complex started living under my roof.
Since then, everything has gone downhill.
I scrub at my face, dreading even opening my laptop.
I know the deluge of emails waiting to be answered will only have grown larger.
I did have an assistant, but she went on maternity leave just as Neo appeared in my life.
Just when the Umbra made an appearance. It’s been very inconvenient, especially since The Firm is incredibly busy this time of year without the extra pressures. The lead-up to the holiday season always brings an uptick in requests.
I did ask if Chloe could postpone the birth. Just push it back by a month or two.
She stared at me like I’d lost my mind.
Perhaps I have. That might explain why Neo is able to crawl under my skin with such ease. Or maybe this is a bigger task than I thought it would be; coping on my own without my PA.
Maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
I rub at my eyes and then pull my laptop open, staring at the blank screen. With my luck, it’s broken. Neo got into my computer once before. I wonder if he’s done it again.
Knowing the work that’s awaiting me, I’d consider it a favor.
I press my fingertip to the corner button, and the laptop flashes to life.
I sigh, wiggling the mouse around the screen, the monitor the only real light in the room. It’s a big space, one that almost seems cavernous and lonely. The walls are lined with heavy mahogany shelves, and framed maps of St. Dismas cling to the walls.
My brothers probably think this is my taste. Truth is, it’s not. I don’t know what my taste even is. I’ve never lived alone. I went from here to the college dorms, then back here. My position as the heir meant I wasn’t allowed the same freedoms my younger siblings enjoyed.
The freedoms I ensured they had.
No, everything in this mausoleum is my father’s design. I’ve never bothered to change anything.
Perhaps when enough time has passed, I’ll feel up to the task. I don’t want to do it too soon, or he may think I’m weak.
My breath catches at that thought. My fist clenches on the desk. Why the fuck can’t I move on and be my own person?
It’s not like he’ll even know. He’s dead.
He can’t hurt you now.
I clear my throat, rubbing at my chest. Annoyance pricks at me even as panic starts to rise. I should be stronger than this. I am stronger than this. There’s nothing wrong with my breathing. Nothing. I will make it so.
I will not be weak.
I will not allow him to make me weak.
Not again.
My spiral ceases abruptly when I spy movement in my peripheral vision. I tense, my gaze fixing on the darkened corner of the room.
My hand flicks to the knife in my desk drawer, and I clasp it tightly, staring at the shadow that shifts behind a potted plant.
It sways in the current of a breeze. What the fuck is it? Or rather, who?
I still, studying the shadows. Whoever it is, they’re going to regret breaking into my home. The place where almost everyone I care about resides.
Fury roars through me, the monster stirring beneath my skin. If they think I’ll take this insult lying down, they’re in for a shock.
I stand up from my chair silently, wanting to sink this knife into someone. To appease the monster, to take the edge off since that spitfire arrived in my life. He’s upturned it, and I want to play.
I might not unleash my monster with Neo, but this fucker?
I’ll let it tear them to shreds.
My feet pad over the old Persian rug as I slink to the corner of the room, making sure not to breathe. My eyes don’t blink, sting, or water. Everything I’ve trained for comes into play.
It’s too dark to see who or what it is. That doesn’t matter. I don’t need light to kill someone.
Father made sure of that.
I lunge, my knife shifting forward as it lands on the target, piercing it with ease. Too much ease.
There’s a loud pop, and I’m so surprised that I leap back a step. The figure deflates, falling into a sorry heap at my feet. My brow furrows, and I rub at my eyes.
What the fuck was that? Was that…a balloon?
I pull out my phone and turn on the flashlight, the beam spilling over the deflated doll crumpled on the ground. It gives a wheeze as the last of the air leaves it.
Like a dying breath.
I stare at the knife in my hand, my brows bunched. How did I miss that this wasn’t an actual person lingering in the corner of the room?
Am I that inept?
Do I need to get my eyes checked again? I’m certain I had an ophthalmologist appointment recently, but maybe more time has passed than I realized.
A muscle jumps in my jaw as I flick the knife in and out repeatedly. Someone decided to plant a blow-up doll in my office.
I know who did it.
I know it in my bones.
Neo.
The question is, what am I going to do about it?
I stalk back to my computer and sit down, my mind spinning. Oh, the things I want to do to Neo to make him behave. Not sure any of them will work. He seems like a wild creature, one unwilling to be caged.
I bet it would make me feel better though. My monster definitely would. He doesn’t see Neo’s behavior as irritating. No, he sees it as an invitation.
That’s what scares me the most.
I wiggle the mouse, and my screen bursts to life.
A box pops up. My hold on my knife tightens as my brain processes what I’m seeing. It’s a grainy video of me lunging toward the blow-up doll, my startled expression that quickly gives way to confusion. The idiotic way I glare down at it.
When it’s done, it plays again. Apparently, Neo has set it up on a loop.
Brat.
As if that’s not bad enough, my phone vibrates. My eyes flick down to see a message from Harley.
Harley
Good one, bro! Way to kill the balloon, man.
My jaw clicks. Fucking great. Neo didn’t just record it, but it appears he shared it with my brothers too.
I may not punish him, I may murder him.
Another message pops up, this time from Dalton.
Dalton
Good thing Dad taught him so thoroughly.
It’s followed quickly by messages from the others. Apparently, there’s a full audience for my humiliation.
Cade
What a killer.
Samson
I’m not sure if I’m more offended that you thought it was a real threat or how open your stance was.
Matthias
You’re being too harsh, Samson. I think scary balloon men is where Wylder’s talents truly lie.
Fuckers.