NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 12
Four teenage girls stand behind Solange, all in girly pajama pants and long-sleeved tops with wide and curious eyes, staring at me like I’m the legendary and solved myth of Bigfoot.
What in the actual fuck now?
I jerk forward, the harsh and loud rattling of my chains making some of them scream in fright as they cower further behind my captor like she’s going to save them from me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I glower, fixing her with a hard stare that, if I’m being honest, isn’t going to do a damn thing just by history alone.
I’m answered with Solange’s sinister smile and, “This is my cousin, Ember.” She motions to the closest girl to her right. A girl who can’t be more than sixteen. “—and her friends. They’re staying behind for Odette’s birthday party to sleep over.”
“And?”
“And what better way to spend the night than seeing a grown man instead of talking about boys.”
“Get the hell out of here,” I drawl, another swell of exhaustion sweeping over me again. “I’m really not in the mood to talk about the Backstreet Boys or whoever the cool boy band is of the day.”
“We don’t listen to boy bands,” one of the little shits behind Solange haughtily counters like I’m not hip to the times.
I’m not.
“It wasn’t my idea, lover boy,” Solange alleges with a lift of her shoulders. “I was going to take the girls out. However, Amirah suggested I bring them down for a show and tell.”
I stretch my fingers to keep from losing my shit at the mention of her name. The lies that quickly scurry in behind it.
Amirah, huh?
The little bitch couldn’t come down here herself to try and pawn a few kids off on me?
This could be her cold dish of karma for half-ass strangling her in the front yard. However, what the hell did she expect for me to do when the opportunity for payback was literally standing right in front of me.
“And she sent you?” I perk a brow at Solange, who appears bored out of her mind as always. The woman has the best resting-cunt face I’ve ever seen. She has Blue beat by a mile.
“She went on a date.” I tsk through my nose because the more that pretty little shit fucks with me, I’m going to make her demise so much more painful and enjoyable for me.
I might just allow her to watch her sister be slowly tortured so she can sear it to memory before I take her out.
Eventually.
I thought about putting her in a box, or an underground bunker like Marty did for his wife—long story, go read about it. I know the motherfucker still has it behind his cabin in the woods.
I nod to the asshole cunt in front of me with a shit-eating cock of my lips. “How’s the hand?”
Her face twists in remembrance. I mean, how could you forget? Dinner conversation has never been so entertaining and satisfying in my damn life.
“Girls, I’ll be upstairs,” she offers, ignoring my comeback. “Come up when…well—“ She turns and makes her way back up the stairs, leaving me alone with a bunch of teenagers with a staring problem.
They’re all different.
Curious.
Fearful.
Indifference.
Arrogant.
That coming from the cousin. It’s fitting as all hell.
“Alright, kids,” I drag out. “Did you want to play tic tac toe or what?”
Ember lifts her pointy nose at me. “We’re not kids.”
“Uh, from where I’m standing, you are. Do you have a driver’s license? A boyfriend? Had your first period yet? Do you even know how to write your damn name?”
The girls behind her giggle. Some are covering their mouths while the others tug their hair behind their ears nervously.
“Go to bed,” I order with a jerk of my head. “Y’all don’t wanna fuck with me.”
“No."
My nostrils flare. My days of raising kids have been far from fucking over when I played pretend to Emmy and Bishop’s kids. And let me tell you, changing diapers and early morning feedings are not my idea of a good time.
In fact, I’d rather adopt a child that’s seventeen and a year away from being a legal adult.
"Are we really going to do this?" a skinny little blonde asks nervously, stepping in from behind Ember as she continues to gawk at me.
"We can do whatever we want."
And the last part should do nothing to me. It should sound like an empty threat, but I seem to be underestimating many people around me lately. Along with the simple and plain fact that they planned something…yeah, fool me once…
"Did you bring the needle?" a brunette mutters, alerting me to a repeat of crazy Solange and her fucking antics.
Kids.
I mean, obviously, you don’t expose your power play to the person you’re going to do it to. Common sense.
I cease my lips from curling into a smirk or anything to give them away from coming closer to me.
I never was a huge fan of Halloween. Still, the thought of literally scaring the shit out of these kids and having them bitch to Amirah about how I made them piss their pants would be a highlight for me today.
Will I pay for it later, maybe—more than likely—but she better bring her sweet ass down here to dish out her sick games, not send down a bunch of ten-year-olds.
Ember nods before slowly walking deeper into the basement. Her eyes flick around my body and the wall that's behind me, searching for a place and opportunity to stick me with the syringe that she has hiding somewhere on her person.
The skinny blonde follows behind her, using her as protection which she should.
The only smart kid in the room.
"What do you think you're going to do, Ember?" I cock my head to the side. "Did you bring your little friends down here so you could teach them how to fuck a grown-ass man?"
Her face flushes bright red as she reaches behind her and shows off the needle that I knew she had. "I'm not going to hurt you. Solange said that you won’t feel a thing.”
"I wish I could say the same."
The tall brunette in the way back steps up worrying cresting over her face. As if suddenly realizing that this is a very bad idea. "Wait, Ember, maybe we should—" The blonde whips around to face her.
"If you want to be a wimp and get out, Ashley, you're more than welcome to leave. We're doing this."
I hum out loud. "Sounds like you have one intelligent friend out of the bunch."
Ember glances back at her friends, suddenly unsure of what to do. "Maybe we should—" The stupid blonde snaps her neck back.
"Are you kidding me?" She narrows her dark eyes. "You were the one upstairs bragging about how you've handled hot guys before.”
I laugh.
I don’t hide it, suppress it, or muffle the damn thing as all of the girls eyeball me like I’m crazy.
Oh, I am.
Getting really close to matching the women who have trapped me here soon.
“Why are you laughing?” Ember sneers, gaining back her confidence.
“I’m going to go,” mutters Ashley as she scurries around the rest of the girls and runs up the stairs.
That leaves three brunettes.
Seems to be the ongoing theme around here.
“So since we’re about to get really up close and personal,” I surmise, casting my focus on all three of the girls. “Wanna start with names?”
“Why?” the mouthy brunette sasses back through knitted brows.
“Got it—“ I point at her. “So you’re Bitchy Betty. Ember, hun, we’ll just keep your boring ass name. And you—“ I point to the smallest of the bunch. “—we’ll call you mouse because I think you’ll squeal the loudest.”
“Fuck you,” Ember fumes, clutching the syringe tightly in her hand. “I’m going to sit on my face.”
My eyes turn into slits. “You mean my face? And I’m standing, sweetheart. Unless you’re Spiderman, you better do something unique here.”
“Let’s just hurry up and do this,” Bitchy Betty carps, straightening out her pink pajamas with red lipsticks on them.
I roll my eyes, watching the battle of teenage girls' whims and indecisiveness.I never liked reality shows. Not a huge fan of this one either.
"I know," Ember replies, then lowers her voice. "But how are we going to..." She trails off in more of a mumbled whisper, and I take a deep breath.
I’m going to have to beat a bunch of kids’ asses tonight.
Bitchy Betty brings her attention to mine, something eerily similar to how Solange looks at me, which is freaky as fuck. "Good thing we brought more than one."
A mirthless chuckle escapes my chest, gaining each pair of eyes on me. "Bring it, little bitch."
Her eyes expand before squinting in with another snobby look. It's utterly sickening that parents raise their offspring to be such shits.
With the lead of Betty, the small group stalks further into the room. I'm taking a confident shot in the dark that the two girls in the back who have remained silently carry other needles in their possession, to which I need to keep a good eye on them.
When they are within a safe distance away, to where I can snatch one of them up like a viper, I cock a brow, taunting one of these entitled assholes to make a wrong move. "How do you want to do this?"
Bitchy Betty screws up her face. "Do this?"
“Yeah—“ I skim down the line of each girl with my eyes. “—don’t tell me you girls didn’t discuss how you were going to jump me. I mean…that’d be so completely childish of you.”
I get mixed reactions. Mouse averts her gaze, Ember’s lips purse like she was just told she wasn’t going to get a Sweet Sixteen party, and Bitchy Betty, well, she doesn’t like me and my big-ass mouth very much.
And it’s then that I decide to make an example out of her.
My hands suddenly clutch my stomach as I groan out in fake pain of whatever bullshit ailment I’m experiencing.
“Fuck,” I growl, cowering forward. “What did your cousin put in my food?”
“Huh?” That coming from Ember, nervously twirling the locks of her curly, dark hair as she watches me. “I don’t know.”
I breathe, steadying myself and waiting for the impatient Betty to make a move.
I don’t have to wait long.
She motions for the girls to move closer, surrounding me like a cornered animal that they are about to harp on with needles.
“I don’t feel good,” I whine, another two steps, and Betty is mine.
“Right now!” I’m flanked from both sides, but my sole focus is on the little bitch who needs to sit down, shut up, and will never learn the lesson I’m about to give her until it’s too late.
Whether I get poked or not right now is a whole different story. The example I need to set for, not only these teenage girls, but the cunts upstairs as well needs to be made.
Reaching forward, I get a hold of the silk collar of her silk pajama top, jerking her forward and into my chest.
Before she can even fathom what just happened, I backhand Mouse at my right.
Yeah…I just hit a teenage girl.
We can add that onto the list of my being a douchebag, asshole, already-going-to-hell list that I’m sure someone is keeping track of right now.
Mouse weighs a buck ten, so I’m not worried about her coming back for me. However, Ember grows a quick pair of balls when she raises a filled syringe of hell knows what and hurls it back.
I catch her by the tiny wrist and twist at the same time my forearm wraps around Betty’s throat. Ember lets out a pained yelp that sounds like a hyena, dropping the needle aimlessly to the floor.
“Ladies,” I announce, my tone dipping into a menacing growl. “Let this be a huge lesson to you that just because you’re rich and your daddies are going to put you through an Ivy League school doesn’t mean that when you put your hand in the cookie jar, you’re not going to get caught. Personal space—“ They all jump back at the sharpness of my voice. “—you wouldn’t want a boy you don’t like putting their hands on you, would you? And I sure as fuck don’t want little girls who still haven’t grown a pair of tits to touch me. So lemme show you what happens when you don’t listen.”
Latching onto both sides of Betty’s head, I quickly whip it to the left, snapping her neck with a distinct pop.
Tiny gasps clog the air, and I toss my example forward for the girls to catch or not catch—don’t care.
Betty almost nose dives into the cement floor as Ember is so kind to break her fall out of instinct or just because maybe they are good friends.
Still doesn’t matter.
She’s dead.
“Ember,” I snarl before her head pivots in my direction, eyes filled with shock and fear. “Come down here and pull a stunt like that again…I’ll fucking kill you. Make sure you let your other friends upstairs know.”
Five cop cars are lined up in our horseshoe driveway with an ambulance in tow, eliciting my heart to drop into my gut.
Dad.
I almost trip out of my Audi, and thank God I changed out of my heels because I could now sprint across the flawlessly manicured lawn and inside.
A stretcher is the first thing I run into in our foyer. Then the white sheet drawn over the outline of a body. A rippling scream begins brewing in my throat but is halted when I hear Mom’s sorrowful sniffles fill my eardrums.
“Excuse us, Miss,” a middle-aged EMT or Paramedic says to me as he begins to move the gurney out the front door with another other EMT.
“Who is that?” I breathe-snap, clutching the front of my shirt as my pulse races through my head.
“We can’t—“
“I live here. Is that my…”
“It’s Amelia Ginalus,” another says, shooting me a look of sympathy. I’m not sure if he was allowed to tell me, but I appreciate it. I also exhale a deep sigh of relief that my father isn’t lying dead underneath that sheet.
Wait. Who the heck is Amelia Ginalus?
As they pull the deceased out of my house, I step out of the way and scan the area for one of my sisters.
I find none.
Moving, I find Mom busy talking to two cops before our eyes meet, and she then dismisses me a second later.
What in the hell is going on here?
I stride for the kitchen next to see if Laurent is in there. But I’m met with the chef who’s whipping up something for lunch during all the chaos in the house.
God forbid my mother have her help staff stop working when there was just a dead body in here a moment ago.
“Have you seen my brother?” My voice is breathless as if I ran a million miles. Adrenaline is still coursing through my veins, and I am on the verge of a freak out if I can’t find him. He’s the only one that’s going to be able to calm me down. The only one that is going to take this seriously.
“I saw him go down to the basement, Miss,” he tells me, pointing to the opposite side of the kitchen where the stairs lie.
I mumble out a thank you, quickly making my way to the set of stairs that leads to the basement.
But I only make it down one step before I hear Odette’s voice—no, her evil sneer—say, “Do it, and I’ll destroy your favorite sister.”
Now, it doesn’t take a brain scientist to figure out who she’s referring to. I hate to say that my family plays favorites, but we all do. My brother loves me more than our other sisters, and they love each other in their own fucked up way.
“You’re so fucking insane,” I hear Laurent storm out as I softly close the door behind me. “How in the hell do you think you’re going to get away with this?!”
“Easy,” I hear Odette reply matter-of-factly.
Wait.
Does she have something to do with what I just saw walking through the front door?
“He needs to go. We can’t keep him; he’s not a fucking dog, Od. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
The mention of him gets me to move. My intuition is rattling me to see for myself what my brother is barking about and who is being kept like an animal.
My purple Chucks hit the hard floor of the basement, and I round the drywall, locating all of my siblings standing around in a circle. My pulse sharply races as my eyes quickly search the mess of boxes and abandoned furniture lying aimlessly around the room.
Solange moves then, purposely like an asshole, and that’s when I see him. Haunched over against the cement wall, crimson covering his face and brown tee shirt.
A strangled gasp leaves my lips as I take in the human being that I said could go home. That we’d give him a half a million dollars to keep his mouth shut about psychotic mother and sisters.
It’s Mills.
Chained up like—what my brother so called it—a dog.
My legs rush me over to him, guilt wracking through me again because I promised him.
Mom said he could go. I believed her. I was a fucking fool to fall for that trick.
He’s been here this whole fucking time.
My knees unforgivingly hit the hard cement as I reach to touch his face but jerk it away. I don’t want to hurt him. His face is purple and yellow, mixed with red cuts streaming blood down the side of his cheek. Underneath his right eye, it’s puffy while the left appears swollen shut.
“What the hell did you do?” I sneer, not knowing what to do to help him.
You need to call an ambulance, idiot.
Glancing down at his wrist, I force myself to press the pad of my fingers into it. Closing my eyes tightly shut, I try to focus on a pulse, to feel anything that he’s still alive.
Oh my God, please…
I am so sorry.
Hands touch my shoulders, and I jolt, not wanting to be touched or coddled.
“He’s still alive,” Laurent mutters above me, giving me a slight squeeze to throw my brave face on for the evil behind us. “I’m so sorry, A.”
Tears burn the back of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Instead, I rise, and Laurent’s hand falls off.
What about you, Rus? You sorry?
More than he’ll ever know. And not anything I can do or say will ever reap an ounce of forgiveness from him.
However, I can get him out of this dirty basement.
