NEFARIOUS: B723 SERIES BOOK THREE, page 55
Amirah has been overdoing it.
And when I mean overdoing it, I’m referring to the number of designs she’s creating, the hours she spends in her space room cutting, stitching, and sewing.
She doesn’t sleep. She barely eats. And the only form of communication is her weak smiles and small kisses.
I’ve already had to carry her to bed several times when I found her on the floor passed out. She tells me we’re fine, but I can see the wheels in her head turning. I don’t want to push her to make me part of her life.
I want to; I just don’t want that sort of relationship.
I’m not sure if she’s ignoring the things she still has to overcome with what comes with me—B723 and their fucking dumbass ways—or if she can’t, period.
I’ve tried to talk to her, but she changes the subject. She hasn’t told me what Emmy, Blue, and her spoke about at her house besides that everything was fine and she had to get back to work.
And while I don’t mind and will wait as long as it takes for her to heal and become herself again…I feel as though I’m failing her in a way.
I love Amirah.
However, I feel as though I’m losing her to herself.
With carryout in my hand and a text message from Amirah that she’ll be home soon, I stride into her kitchen and place down the plastic bags of Italian food on the kitchen island.
I need a beer and a blunt before she comes home because I’m having a hard time keeping myself calm. I don’t stay when I put her to bed. I’m scared I’m becoming Emmy and transforming into an overbearing character that will suffocate her.
So I sleep on the sectional until she’s about to get up for the day, and I leave.
Sighing, I hurl open the fridge and see the Coronas lined up perfectly in a row.
I view her empty ass fridge because she doesn’t grocery shop, and thank fuck I’m feeding her.
All this is fine and fucking dandy.
Because the shit I don’t see is who shovels the needle in my neck soon enough to save me from hitting the floor.
MILLS: I got you food from that small Italian restaurant you like. I love you.
I love you.
He makes sure to say that at least once a day to remind me that he hasn’t given up on our relationship, me, and what has been transpiring in my head. It’s all muddled and gray, but one thing is clear is that I still adore and care for Mills as I did before.
Laurent has been keeping tabs on me too. Texting and calling to check up on me to see how things are going with school, my internship, and home life.
I kinda hate to say this, but it feels as if nothing has changed because I didn’t talk to Mom and Odette like that, but my concern has been on Dad.
He seems fine.
But I can play the naive and ignoring card too, like I’ve been playing with how to move forward when B723 is always something looming in the background of my head.
What if something like this happens again? But then again, with who? Solange is the only one left, and she’s been MIA as if she never existed. Laurent said he spoke with her the other day, and she’s in LA spending away her money and shopping, which is her coping mechanism.
I don’t buy it.
Sliding into my apartment, it’s quiet when I see the white plastic bags of food sitting on the kitchen island. What’s not is the soft moan of a female and the silver barrel of the gun on the white marble counter. Dark hair bounces over the edge before the door to the penthouse closes behind me. It startles all in the room as I watch my only living sister’s head jerks up, her green eyes slamming into mine the moment the sound clicks.
She shuffles for the pistol and glares at me with such hatred in her features that I freeze from the harshness of it.
With the weapon suddenly pointed at me, Solange jerks it to the side for me to move.
“Stand where I can see you,” she orders, squeezing the handle so hard that her knuckles are turning white.
“I’m right here. What are you doing?” I blurt out, not following what she commands because I’m stunned.
Then I remember the bags to my left and Mills’s text message, which makes me move around the island. With slow, steady steps, my brain begins to create the scenario of why Solange is on the floor.
No. No. No.
My stomach doesn’t bother to yield from twisting painfully at the thought. That this is happening again. That she's alive, compulsive, and so freaking stupid when it comes to Mills.
Mills.
Medium brown hair lies on the tiled floor, completely still as my eyes soak in my unconscious boyfriend underneath my sister.
“Solange.” Her name is a guttural need for her to give me a damn explanation as my gaze falls down the length of his body, my sister’s legs are on either side of him—above his groin. “Get off him.”
She lifts her body and sinks back down, issuing out a forced moan. With it comes her reach at the end of her dress, displaying that she’s fucking him.
I move but so does the hammer of the gun.
It stops me on instinct, but my need to get to Mills is so much stronger right now. I might get shot, but he’s not going to endure another moment with my sister violating him.
“Get off,” I sneer. “Now.”
Solange has the balls to smile at me from behind her pistol. “Or what? I’m just taking back what’s mine. What will always be mine.”
“He’s not—“
“You had Mom and Odette murdered…I should thank you. It only paved the way for the rest of my life. To not be in their shadow and just be free of the petty bullshit.”
“Where have you been?” I press, focusing on where the heck her headspace is at and to keep her busy on how I just took a tiny step forward. “We’ve been calling you. Dad has been worried sick.”
She lifts a flawlessly shaped brow, considering my alleged concerned about her whereabouts when I never have been before. Only that she was going to act when I least expected it. She did. “Have you been worried about me, dear sister?”
“Yes,” I lie through my teeth and she snorts through her nose. “Did you just get here? Why haven’t you answered any of our calls or—“
“You can stop now,” she interrupts flatly. “We both know what happened here. You’re just as tied up in knots with worry as I am about you.” She flexes her perfectly manicured fingers and wraps them back around the handle of the gun again. “How do we go from here?”
“Solange, I didn’t want this.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Of course not,” I appeal. “Why did you keep pushing? Why did you let Odette—“
“She did what she wanted.” Solange averts her gaze as if she’s completely unbothered by the loss of our eldest sister.
Just as much as I am.
We’re the most fucked up family I’ve ever met.
“So, do you think you’ll just run away into the sunset with your knight in shining armor?”
I glare at her. “I’m not riding off anywhere, but you need to. If they find you—“
“Who?” Her eyes transform into slits. “Who blew up that plane? I know Rhett has connections. They got him out of the basement. He disabled the cameras here. They show up at times when they can be a nuisance. He doesn’t work alone.”
I straighten my spine against her integration. “What did you do to him?”
“Drugged him. Like I said, took back what was mine.” I take another step in her direction, and she fires off a shot. I instinctively jerk back from the sound, waiting for the sense of pain to form anywhere on my body, but nothing comes. Just the heavy fear plastered in my veins of what she plans to do and if Mills is in grave danger.
“You need help,” I deadpan through my teeth.
“And you need to get the fuck out of here.”
“I’m not leaving without him.”
Solange rolls her eyes and begins to buck up and down off Mills’s body. “Then you’re going to have to come get him. He feels…as good as I remember.”
My Chucks dig into the hard floors as I charge forward. I catch myself and Solange off guard because this is out of character for me.
I don’t fight.
However, over the last few weeks, plenty has changed. I’m not the same, and it’s not for the worse, but I never would’ve lunged at someone who had a gun. Let alone stand up to my sister, who’s currently raping my boyfriend.
Falling on top of her, the gun goes off again, and I’m wondering how many more times it needs to before someone hears it and calls 911.
I push into her chest to get myself up, catching the gun from the corner of my eye as she brings it around to do God knows what with it.
Clutching onto her wrist, we fight for it as she tries to buck me off her like a wild horse. She’s strong, trying to position me on the other side of the silver barrel because…she’s trying to hurt me, kill me, take me out so she can have Mills to herself.
My free hand goes to clenched ones as I squeeze her wrist as tight as I can, attempting to get her to drop it. That’s when her knee connects with my spine, sending me forward and my grip to loosen.
A heavy hit crashes into the back of my skull, and it doesn’t take a brain scientist to figure out that Solange hit me with her gun. It only deters me for a second before my closed fingers crash across the side of her face. I take the advantage and do it again, knowing that the gun is anywhere, but I’m blinded by rage.
She touched Mills again.
Rising, I thrust my knees into her gut, hearing her air leave her chest from my weight. My attention goes to the gun that she can’t aim at me because I’m all over the place.
And I want to see her bleed.
A male moan sounds behind me, and it can only be Mills. It catches Solange’s attention—like a fly to shit—and she gets distracted. I knock the gun out of her palm, and that’s when she realizes that it’s just her and me.
Her red nails dig mercilessly into my forearms as my hands go to her throat. Her matching eyes widen, and it’s like I’m looking at a skinnier version of me. One that turned evil at who knows what time in her life.
“You’re done,” I ground out. “You touch him again, and I’ll fucking kill you.” Solange chuckles underneath me then rolls, sending us both on our sides.
We scramble up, but I don’t search for the gun. I ram into her body, hitting the fridge with a rattle, and my foot hits the hard metal of the weapon. I hear it skid across the hardwood floor, alluding to its location and that I need it to get the upper hand.
Solange is going to jail today. And with the evidence of this, I’m not going to be merciful.
My sister latches on to a fistful of hair and yanks hard, exposing my neck, and that’s when I feel the cold metal swipe across it. I gasp loudly, my palms immediately going to where she sliced me as I step back and away.
Meeting her eyes, their dark and sinister, matching the smirk that displays off her features. She doesn’t care about what happens to me as long as she gets her own way.
And where the hell she kept that knife proves that she came prepared to make sure I wouldn’t be a threat nor an obstacle for her anymore.
“It’d be so poetic if you died trying to save someone you loved,” my sister divulges, twirling the small blade in her hand. “I’ll tell him you went quick to save him the heartache.”
“I don’t plan on dying.”
“But you will.” She erases some space between us. “I’m tired of running across you. You’ve been in my way since I had you fuck him the first time.”
“He’ll kill you, Solange,” I promise. “Don’t be any more of an idiot than you are right now.”
“Fuck you, princess. You’re no better than me. Just because you go to school doesn’t mean—“
“He doesn’t like you, bitch. Fuck.” My sister’s eyes widen a tad. “You need to get a damn grip. He’s with me. And he’ll always be with me. So you’re in the way now.”
Solange’s jaw tightens before she swings horizontally, trying for me again. I barely get out of it when another male moan comes from the floor, and I know Mills is beginning to come to.
But if I look at him, she gets a one-up on me, so I don’t. I just thank God he’s still alive right now.
Flicking my eyes quickly to the floor, the gun is within feet of me. Solange must know what I’m searching for because she turns, and I leap for it.
Like sliding into home plate slide and skid.
The tips of my fingertips brush the metal as a hard kick to my ribs gets me to coil back. I fight through another and force myself to think through the pain.
Before she can hit me again, I reach out for the gun again and roll onto my back, pointing the weapon at my sister.
The only one I have left.
“Back the fuck up,” I carp out. “Right now.”
“You gonna shoot me?” Her brows snap together as if I’m the insane one of the group.
A group of two now.
I fire a shot to the ceiling and Solange jerks back.
“Step the fuck back,” I command and flick my newly found weapon to the side. “Sit by the island.” Solange moves forward, finding some new courage or remembering that I’m not a violent being by nature and I pull on the trigger again.
However, this time, I lowered it and discover a stream of fresh blood coursing down her bicep. I hear the loud sound of disbelief off her lips as she examines her new wound, but I don’t feel sorry.
Not after all this.
“You fucking bitch!” Her eyes slice back to mine, but she does nothing else.
“Move,” I command, waiting for her to get far away enough before I begin to push myself up to my feet.
Solange finally plops down on one of the stools, probably thinking of another plan while I walk over to Mills, his grayish-blue eyes staring up at me with nothing much in them.
“Hey,” I try to coo softly and calmly. “We’re going to get you some help.”
“Rus,” he mutters. “Keep your eyes…”
My brows knit. “What?” He jerks in Solange’s direction, and I catch on to what he’s asking me to do.
Don’t take my focus off the target.
Solange scowls at me, her palm cupping her wound. “Daddy is going to be disappointed in you.”
My face twists. “Doubt it.”
“You shot your sister.”
“You raped my boyfriend…again.” My index finger slightly pulls back on the trigger because Mills was always right.
They all were.
My sisters are pure evil who only hurt the people I love and will continue to do so until they’re dead or locked up.
“His cock says different.” She slides off the stool, and it’s then that I notice the knife that still resides in her hand.
She’s never going to stop.
“I underestimated you,” she continues. “However, I’ve played the game longer.”
“If you even try it, Solange, I will shoot you. Sit your ass down.”
“I’m going to, watch me. Rhett Mills belongs to me, and he always has and will. That cock is mine. His soul is mine. He might think you’re cute…but I’m the one that will quench his thirst.”
My nostrils flare at her demented comments. How she believes she can just keep taking and taking what’s mine.
“You better stop,” I warn. “You’re not taking him from me again, so keep yourself alive while I’m giving you your last chance as well as your last warning.”
“Watch me.”
“Solange...”
She doesn’t stop nor listen, and I steal a glance at Mills staring up at me, needing me to be safe for the both of us.
And while my eyes are locked with his, I shoot.
Solange Van Doren didn’t die on-site like I told Amirah she did. In fact, she lived for another one while B723 tore her apart and tortured her for the things she did to me and Amirah. To set and make her last moments on this Earth a living and breathing hell.
A simple gunshot to her stomach wasn’t going to cut it for me. She deserved more. She cut my girl and had it in her mind that she would kill her if Amirah didn’t do what she did.
She grew a pair, to put it bluntly.
She fucking fought for herself.
She claimed me.
And, if I wasn’t a goner before when it came to the copper-haired beauty, I am now. I can’t keep my hands off her. I can’t be without her.
So I won’t.
She’s rattled by shooting her sister twice but not completely racked of guilt. She’s just more upset that she had to do it.
However, as Kyson tells me it’s been taken care of, I can’t feel anything but relief. I’ll work through my own fucking demons by being touched by the devil again in a way that I didn’t want to be, but Amirah will solve that for me. She’ll keep me grounded to not delve into the deep end.
Because it’s over.
She’s safe, and I’m rid of three cunts who decided to use me as their toy. But it brought me Amirah, and I’d never change that.
“You coming to dinner, brother?” I pull my attention off Amirah, who is sitting on the sectional couch, mind full of thoughts, as she stares out the penthouse windows.
Returning my focus back to Kyson, he looks a little on edge about how I’m handling things.
I’m not Bishop. The poor fucker has to deal with one hell of a best friend who flips off the handle a little too easily sometimes.
“Not sure yet,” I reply. “She might not be ready.”
“Understandable. Emmy is going to be by soon, I’m sure.”
I nod. “Let her come. It’s fine.”
“I’ll be around.” He lightly slaps my shoulder. “Call me if you need anything.”
Without a word from me, he shows himself out and leaves me alone with the woman who has barely spoken in two days. She called her dad, explained what happened in extreme detail. She also surprised me by stating she wasn’t going to go to the funeral.
I’ve been in contact with Laurent. His father and he are going to handle all the arrangements and asked for me to just take care of his sister.
That, of course, isn’t a problem.
The issue is getting Amirah to snap out of it a little.
