Of all the feelings that exist in my arsenal, irritation and anger take the crown as the prominent ones.
Especially fucking anger.
There needs to be an outlet to relieve the constant rage lurking inside me. A little bit of violence, a little bit of mayhem.
A little bit of anarchy.
I thought I knew anger so well, that I was already acquainted with the sensation of bubbling blood in my veins, the tensing of my limbs, and the red covering my vision.
Turns out, I never knew what actual anger was until I found Glyndon’s half-unconscious body by the cliff.
After that stunt of posting her hand in another man’s on IG, I was already planning murder—all eloquent thoughts Mom planted in my head to get Glyndon back long gone.
Or maybe they weren’t. I was just using another method to pursue her.
And since she wasn’t answering my calls, I had to use the tracker I implanted in her phone to find out where she went.
When I realized where she was driving, a disturbing uneasiness hooked against my bones and left me on the edge. I drove with the recklessness of a madman who had every intention of risking his life.
The scene I find, however, is nothing I could’ve conjured in my fucked-up mind.
At first, when I see the curled-up figure lying beneath a tree, I refuse to believe it’s her.
The early morning light casts a bluish hue on her legs that are tucked into her chest.
My heart thunders as I kneel beside her, so gently, so calmly as if another entity has taken over my body.
I touch her shoulder and carefully tug. Her head rolls and bumps against my knee.
The person I see in front of me is almost unrecognizable. A map of violet bruises spread over her cheeks, and one of her eyes is blue, swollen, and slightly open. Blood mars her once translucent skin and leaves a dry trail beneath her nose and mouth.
It’s like someone used her as a punching bag.
Someone who’ll wish for death when I get my fucking hands on them.
This is the part where I realize I actually had no clue what anger is all about. Those bursts of anger I felt before? Those could be called strong irritations or waves of mild anger at best.
But they don’t compare to this all-encompassing rage flowing in my veins instead of blood.
Splashes of red cover my vision until it’s difficult to see Glyndon through them, but I still grab her face and cradle it on my lap. She’s so small and weak in my arms. I always thought she was easily breakable, but that didn’t matter once I decided she was under my protection.
I just never thought someone would have the fucking audacity to touch her.
My hands are steady as I inspect her body for other injuries. My professors always expressed awe at my ability to remain collected under stress. The way I have a muted response to threats and disasters—a fact that enables me to find a solution faster than my colleagues.
That muted response is faltering right now, but I grab on to it with all my might. That’s the only way to assess Glyndon’s condition.
The good news is, she’s breathing.
The bad news is, she’s doing it with effort.
“Who the fuck did this to you?” I don’t recognize the masked rage in my deadly calm tone.
Or the need to break all hell loose.
As if realizing I’m here, Glyndon blinks, and a lone tear slides down her cheek as a pained moan slips from between her lips.
I reach out a finger and wipe that tear, but she’s out again.
“Fuck, baby. Open your eyes. Tell me who did this.”
No reply.
I hold her hands in mine and they’re bloody, a few nails broken.
She fought, my Glyndon. She didn’t let the scum brutalize her without hurting them in return.
Obviously, she lost, but still, I’m so fucking proud of her.
When I start to lift her up, something slips from between her stomach and leg. It was hidden by her curled-up position earlier.
A mask.
My fingers slide against the latex material and over the grotesque details of the horror skull mask with a toothy grin.
Fucking Serpents.
Logically, I know this is a provocation for war, which I promised Jeremy I wouldn’t instigate.
But that was before they touched what’s mine.
They’re asking for war, but they’ll get fucking annihilation.
After assessing Glyndon’s condition personally, I don’t find anything awry aside from the external injuries. I still take her to the hospital for a checkup and sure as fuck use all the tricks to have her seen first.
One of my professors confirms it’s only external, after all, prescribes her pain medications and says he’ll have to report it to the police. I let Jeremy deal with him and take her back to the mansion.
My body has been stiff, ready to snap in two, and I’ve been absolutely unapproachable ever since I found her.
No, make that ever since she received that video and bolted on me.
There’s nothing I want to do more than stay by her side and wait for her to wake up, but I have some lives to fuck up first.
So I call Brandon to come and stay with her. The only reason I trust him is because he’s her blood and obviously cares about her well-being.
Not her other brother, because fuck that guy.
But they show up together at my bedroom, and that fucker Gareth lets them in.
“What?” He feigns innocence when I glare at him. “They’re her brothers. I couldn’t let one in and kick the other one out.”
“Glyn!” Brandon runs to her side, a look of shock written on his face as he crouches by her bed, then looks at me. “Is she…”
“She’ll live. Can’t say the same about the one who did that to her.” I glare at Landon, who strides inside with the nonchalance of someone who owns the place, then his eyes narrow when he sees his sister’s state. “And what the fuck are you doing here?”
“I’m here for my sister, and if you’d attempted to keep me out, I would’ve burned this whole fucking place down—after I got her out, of course. I also received a text.” He fetches his phone and shows me a text from an unknown number.
We spit on your grave.
Attached is a picture of Glyndon, all battered, with a skull mask lying beside her.
These motherfuckers clearly want to die young.
“I want in on whatever you’re planning,” Landon informs me.
“And what makes you think I’ll let you?”
He steps in front of me so that we’re staring at each other. “I wasn’t asking, Carson. I’ll be in whether you like it or not. I could’ve done this on my own, gotten my club involved and wiped those scum off the face of the earth, but you have more information about the Serpents than I do, and this operation isn’t about some trivial grudge, so it needs to be thorough. No one fucks with my sister, not even you, hear me?”
“Is that your way of asking for assistance?”
“As I said, I wasn’t asking. I will be in, even if I have to hijack your operation.”
“I don’t react well to threats.”
“And I don’t react well to being kept out.”
We glare at each other for what seems like an eternity before Brandon interrupts, “Can’t this be dealt with in a different way?”
“You mean instead of decapitating them, we cut them into pieces?” I say.
He winces. “No, I meant calling the police like actual civilized people?”
“Fuck the cops.”
“This is personal,” Landon says.
“Not sure if I should be glad or creeped out that you two are finishing each other’s sentences.” Brandon’s face is full of horror. “How about you negotiate with the Serpents to hand over whoever did this to Glyn so that you can both avoid war? It’s obviously one man’s work.”
“Nah, I want all their heads,” Landon says.
“I agree with the motherfucker.” I point a thumb in his direction. “Keep an eye on her and let me know if anything happens. There’s someone I need to take care of first.”
I step out of the room and grab Gareth by the collar. “You follow me.”
Landon falls in step beside us, hands in pockets and expression blank.
I side-eye him. “Do you need something?”
“It’s hard to do, but pretend I’m not here.”
I ignore him because I have more important things to take care of.
My steps are light, almost inaudible, as we walk all the way to the annexed house. The one new members can stay in. They’re only allowed in the main house during a party or if we invite them over.
A petite figure dressed in black pants and a hoodie is sneaking toward the back entrance.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be locked up?” I ask Gareth.
“She was, ever since we flew here, but she obviously used some trick to persuade the guards to let her go.”
I quicken my pace, grab her by the hoodie, and pull her back with enough force to make her shriek. Her bleached blonde hair falls out in disarray as I stand behind her like the Grim Reaper.
My fingers tighten and I strangle her with the hoodie until her face goes red. “Going somewhere without saying goodbye, Cherry? I’m so wounded, I’ll probably cry on my pillow later.”
I loosen my hold but don’t release her, and she coughs as she faces me, then breathes out, “Killer.”
“Your killer for sure. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your stupid little games?”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what he’s talking about,” Gareth snarls. “You used me to get to the club and get access to internal communication panels.”
“Then you stole security footage and leaked it outside. Oh, and you invited Glyndon to the initiation through the internal panel with Gareth’s access.”
A fact that he admitted to me after I brought a battered Glyndon with me to the house. Apparently, he’d wanted to tell me this on the plane since he had his suspicions about who might have access to internal security records.
Jeremy and Nikolai’s guards are more loyal than dogs since they were with their fathers for years. Those two are out.
So the most probable people are those from the club.
And the one Gareth has been getting in bed with is none other than the manipulative, on-crack Cherry.
We were able to fill in the blanks after that.
Cherry starts crying, her chin trembling and her eyes red. If I could give a fuck, it’d almost feel real.
Almost.
“I didn’t want to,” she sobs. “He…he made me do it. He knows about my drug addiction and if I didn’t cooperate, he was going to tell Dad, who would lock me up in some rehab facility. I swear I didn’t know he’d hurt Glyndon like that. I swear.”
I yawn. “Tell that to someone who cares.”
“Gareth.” She grabs his arm with desperation bleeding in her voice, knowing full well he’s the only one who’ll be able to get her out of this. It surely isn’t me. “I wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t had to. You have to believe me.”
He removes her hand and slings it away. “You used me once. Never again.”
“Gareth, please. I love you.”
“No, you don’t,” Gareth says with a half-smile. “I was just a substitute for Kill. You don’t even love him. You love the idea of him and the feelings of grandiosity it gives you.”
“That’s not true, I swear—”
“Shut the fuck up. Your whining is getting on my last fucking nerve and that’s not playing in your favor, Cherry.” I tilt my head. “You know what will? Giving me a name and a recount of events.”
She sneers, all pitiful-girl act vanished. “You’ll hurt me anyway, so why should I tell you?”
“At least you’re smart enough to figure that out. Keep up that energy and tell me what I want. There’s a huge difference between being sent to rehab and being sent to an unknown place, say underground, where you’ll slowly but surely go fucking mad and start eating your own shit. Oh, and I’ll make sure there are no guards you can seduce.”
Her lips tremble, an ugly expression taking over her face. “Why her and not me? I came first, I had you first.”
“Beats me. Probably the face. Hers is better than yours, even when bruised. And the voice. Glyndon’s is the sweetest I’ve ever heard. You know what? Everything. She has the aura of a queen while you’ll always be a lowly peasant, Cherry. When I looked at you in the past, I used to feel indifference, but now, I have this urge to crush your fucking skull, so tell me what I want before I start acting on those feelings.”
It takes her a few moments of futile struggling before she lays the whole situation out. From how she got close to Gareth and connived to be accepted into the Heathens to how she helped her brother receive an invitation the second time around. Obviously, he’s the one who shot at me with that arrow, and she tried to stop him.
She also tells me about the threatening text messages he kept sending to Glyndon all this time to keep her on the edge.
Her word vomit goes on and on about how her brother used to control her and blah fucking blah.
Then she mentions the name that makes me see even more red than earlier. Devlin Starlight.
The supposedly dead Devlin. I knew that motherfucker wasn’t the type who would commit suicide. He had too much destructive energy to fit a self-harming concept such as finishing his life.
I’m not easily surprised—if ever—but I was when I heard the news of his death. Which is why I constantly visited that cliff just to see that death up close.
I met a fucking angel instead.
Now that I know of his actions, I assume that his plan all along was to get me interested in Glyndon. The way he talked about his ‘best friend’ was filled with the right adjectives.
Innocent, sheltered, a princess.
Or the last thing he mentioned.
Sometimes she feels like someone who’s waiting to be ruined.
I’m going to fuck up his life, not only for thinking he could manipulate me but also for daring to put his filthy hands on what’s mine.
The plan is simple but brutal.
At nightfall, Jeremy, Nikolai, Gareth, and I put on our neon, stitched face masks with the added anti-gas option and sneak into the Serpents’ compound.
There’s a pest following us around wearing his gold mask, but I ignore him.
If it were months or even weeks ago, we wouldn’t dream of raiding their mansion. But Cherry played her part well, with some prodding from Gareth.
She’s trying to get on his good side so we won’t hand her back to her daddy on a silver platter. She’s a survivor through and through and isn’t above betraying her brother for it.
Needless to say, I made sure she was locked up with White as guard. She might be able to seduce any of our security guards, but never White. Once we’re done here, I’ll make sure her father’s men take her out of the mansion.
Have fun in rehab, bitch.
Now, it’s time to pay tribute to the other bitch, whose father’s men will escort him to his coffin.
The mansion they use as a base is similar to ours, only a bit more gothic and smaller, like their dicks.
And tonight happens to be the night they pick a leader—as Cherry told us. Gareth, Landon, and I watch the security monitor after Jeremy and Nikolai knock out the guards.
All five leaders of the Serpents wear skull masks similar to the one I found on Glyndon earlier. They’ve formed a circle on some satanic star and are murmuring like fucking witches.
“Which one’s Devlin?” Gareth asks.
“Their masks are similar, so I don’t know.” I shrug. “We’ll just have to take them all.”
“Yes, all.” Nikolai’s eyes gleam from behind his mask as he slaps his fist against his open palm. “I’ll fuck them all up.”
“All but Devlin,” I say. “His life is mine.”
“You mean mine,” Landon tells me and I flip him off.
“As much as I like that idea,” Jeremy intervenes, “that would be asking for war.”
I raise a brow. “Didn’t know war scared you.”
“Not in the least. But some of you might not be ready for it.”
“If you’re agree to this plan, raise your hand,” I say, then raise mine. Nikolai puts up both and Gareth follows. “Guess that concludes it.”
We leave Gareth in the control room for any unwanted intervention, and he keeps in communication with us through earpieces.
Then the four of us follow his instructions to reach their basement where they’re having their satanic rituals.
I pull up the plug on the metal canister and watch it roll toward them.
They all stare at it, then disperse in different directions when they figure out it’s tear gas.
One of them falls to the ground, coughing, removing his mask. Nikolai kicks him in the jaw, sending him flying. “Hi, guys, nice to see you again. I’ve missed bloodying your pussy-ass faces.”
He’s not Devlin.
Jeremy and Landon split up, catching the others, beating them up and taking off their masks, but there’s no sign of Devlin.
“Kill, behind you!” Gareth yells in my ear.
I swing around and raise my hand just in time for a baseball bat to fall on my arm.
A crack sounds in the air, crashing pain blinds my vision, and my arm falls limp.
Definitely broken.
The one wearing a skull gas mask laughs with the edge of a lunatic. “Hi there, Killian. You thought I wouldn’t anticipate this?”
“Hi there, Devlin. Ready to meet your maker?” I kick him in the stomach, letting the useless arm swing at my side.
He oomphs, but he regains his footing and aims for my broken arm again.
This time, I dodge, and he laughs. “Does this scene mean you got my gift? I used special care to wrap her up in beautiful bruises for you. She looked exquisite.”
This time, I’m the one who bursts out laughing so loudly and maniacally that he pauses. It goes on for so long that he gets angry and starts aiming at me without a strategy.
“Such a weak little boy.” I dodge. “Mommy didn’t love you, did she? Abandoned you while you were small and helpless, so now, you’ve turned into a man-child.”
“Shut the fuck up.” His anger rises and rises, and he falls straight into my lap.
“What a shame. She’d take a rope to her throat if she saw your current state. Oh, right. She already did.”
“I said to shut the fuck up!” He swings and I catch the bat with my good arm, wrench it from his hold, and swiftly hit him in the head.
He releases a haunted, pained sound as he drops to the ground. He crawls, then rises to his feet, but the moment he’s up, I slam the wood against his legs over and over until gurgles are the only sounds he can make.
I slowly remove his mask, making him cough and choke on the tear gas, then I peer down on him. “Don’t faint on me yet. We’re only just getting started. You’re going to bleed and scream and beg for every mark you left on her skin. You’ll be cut for every lie you told her and for having the audacity to use her good nature. You’ll pray to every deity on earth, but I’ll be your custom-made merciless god. I might not process emotions normally, but if you hurt what’s mine, I’ll be the one to spit on your fucking grave.”
I have not a shadow of a doubt that the little rabbit is flipping my world upside down.
And I’ll let her.
Because she’s mine.
And I’ll set the whole fucking world on fire to make sure she remains safe.
