And there is it. The coiled cobra about to strike, its poison fangs bared at me like it’s about to strike.
“What does that mean?” My voice hardens as I question her but at that very same time as she throws her head back in manic laughter, a shadow moves from the dark corner of the library, startling the hell out of me.
“A new beginning in Westbrook Blues, is what she means.” His deep voice announces as he moves, sounding much like a whisper of death.
Everything in me drops as I quickly whirl around only to be met by a dark, expressionless and empty gaze that belongs to a tall, lanky man with a hardness about him that you would never be able to ignore even if you wanted to.
Syrus Easton.
♥
My body starts trembling as I take a discreet step back, my heart pounding as I register the way Syrus is looking at me. What is he doing here? Why is he here with my mother?
“Tell me Astraea, are you grateful for your heartbeats?” Syrus questions as he starts walking towards me, his tall, lean body clad in an expensive suit, his well put together aura hiding what I know is a monster beneath that skin. Just like my mother.
But the way he moves though, he made it seem like he was floating on dark air. Almost like Voldemont.
He even kind of looks like Voldemolt, but since he was Syrus Easton, he could pass off as ridiculously handsome.
“What?” I stutter, not knowing what to make of that abrupt question.
“Your heartbeats. You have them, don’t you?” He tilts his head, as if to study me, imploring into me with that dark gaze that I thank all the gods in the universe that Emmett didn’t inherit.
“Don’t you?” I question right back. Everyone has heartbeats. Fuck, that’s what distinguishes us from the dead.
“That’s beside the point, Astraea.”
“What do you mean then?” I question.
“You know, in all the years that my son has been obsessed with you, caring about you, thinking of you constantly, he never once mentioned that you were. . . what do kids call it nowadays, Amanda?” He looks to my mother who remains stoic and silent, now back in her chair as if he expects a response from her but she doesn’t say a word.
“Slow.” He finishes for himself. “You are beautiful young lady, but you do seem slow.”
“Then I’m sorry to have wasted your time in my home which I don’t remember inviting you to.” I seethe getting angrier by the second.
He chuckles then, watching me as he nods his head. “You are witty as hell then. It all makes senses now.” He says, nodding his head. “You’ll have to do.”
“Do what exactly?” I demand, feeling like my heart is going to give out.
These heartbeats. . .
“Marry my son.” He says with a flourish that almost makes me sick. I watch, as if from an out of body experience as he takes out a large envelope that looks like it holds something important.
Something surreal. Something that will, in fact, break everything.
“Excuse me?” I question, feeling numb all of a sudden.
Does Astraea know that she will marry Syrus’ son?
Denise’s words echo between my ears, while Ace’s hauntingly beautiful face flashes behind my eyelids.
“You must be mistaken.” I say. “Emmett is my best friend and I’m sure that he would also disagree to whatever bullshit you’re plotting with my deadbeat mother.” I say, knowing damn well that what was between Emmett and I was love yes, but not that kind of love.
He doesn’t look at me like the way he looks at Ivy. I mean, Emmett looks at that girl like. . .she’s the bane of his existence but he can’t live without her.
He looked at her almost like. . .he was in love.
The kind of love that I was rejected from tonight.
I grit my teeth.
“Tell me this then, if you know my son as well as you do.” He starts, placing the envelope on the round library table between him and I as casually as if he has done the same thing over and over for years, with him being a shady businessman and all. My mother lights up a cigar then, watching us with a smile on her face.
“Where is he right now?” He questions.
“Are you hoping that I do your parental duties? Check in with your son, report back to you about his whereabouts, that sort of thing?” I snort, folding my arms, refusing to take the envelope.
“Hmm, naïve little girl.” He tsk, looking at me with something in his eyes that makes me shiver. “Let me ask you again, are you grateful for your heartbeats?”
“That is none of your business but yes, unlike you and my whore of a mother that you slept with, some of us are grateful for each heartbeat.” I seethe.
“Well, not everyone can say that, Ms. Astraea.” He coldly says. “Open it.” He says, gesturing to the large envelope that still rests there, seeming to burn a whole in the middle of the damn table.
“What does any of this have to do with Emmett and me?” I demand.
“It has everything to do with you.” He says calmly, watching me with a calm appraisal that grates my insides. My hand twitches and trembles as I reach for the envelope as if it’s going to going to suddenly come alive and bite my head off, but I can’t help but reach for it.
“What’s in there?” I demand.
“Open it sweetheart. You’ll find that it’s a beautiful document that will make all your dreams come true! You’ll also find that it’s already signed, by one half of the party. It’s just waiting for your signature.” My mother chimes in, happily.
A beautiful document. . .
“Is this a marriage contract?” I demand, looking at both of them but they don’t say anything. Without any more hesitation, curiosity clawing my insides, I snatch the damn thing and sure enough, after I rip the seal and shake out the thick document inside, I realize that it’s a contract.
“I wanted us to do this better, smoother but, we encountered unseen circumstances.” Amanda says, her voicing drowning along with everything else as my eyes narrow onto the large tittle.
A marriage agreement between Emmett J. Easton and Astraea C. Fields.
My eyes widen as I quickly scan the document. The paper hisses in my hands, it’s weight and feel threatening to scorch my palms. The words emblazoned on the page have my heart pounding but as I look at the bottom of the damn page, my back hunched over, feeling an invisible weight being placed over my shoulders, I notice something that makes everything in me halt to a stop.
Suddenly, I feel like I’m drowning.
For sure, as I flip the thing over, there is a signature already there.
A signature that I recognize as belonging to one of the boys that makes this life worth living.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Heartbeat.
Everything in me stills as if hot wax has been poured over me and now only my eyes are visible, but even those can hardly believe what’s in front of me. I can’t even process or begin to understand what I’m reading.
“Isn’t it amazing?” My mother gushes as she gets up and walks over to where Syrus stands, watching me read the heading over and over again, then dropping my gaze to look at the signature at the bottom.
How could Emmett have signed this? Did he know about this all along? I look up to look at Amanda, trying to see if this is all a joke but her eyes are lit up in merriment. “You get to marry one of the boys you love.”
This delusional woman, what has she done?
“And you think you can force me to do this huh?” I question, dropping the paper to the floor, my tone cold, calm and aloof. “You think this will happen?” I’ll be eighteen soon, no one can force me to do anything. Including living under this roof.
That’s probably one of the first things I’m going to do once I’m legal.
Trepidation fills my insides as I notice Amanda’ smile disappear as quickly as it had appeared. She looks at me as if she’s about to grill me over an open fire, then cast me to the dogs. Her eyes hardening
, she steps forward.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.” She starts, her voice getting sharper, less shrill, more. . .evil.
I take a step back.
My mother truly doesn’t give a damn about me or my wellbeing so now as she seems to get bigger and bigger in front of my eyes, I can’t help but feel like she has something in store for me.
“You see, my dearest daughter. You have caused me so much grief that it’s high time you pay for it! But I’m kind, I’m letting you get a great deal here than the one I got.” She says, taking a step closer to me.
I take one back.
What does she mean by that? What deal did she get?
“If you don’t sign that contract by the night you turn eighteen.” Her faces tightens, as she hisses out the words like a snake. “You’ll be responsible for some rather. . .tragic events that you will never escape from.” She says, watching me with a look that rivals any other I have seen from her.
Amanda is truly mental.
I can see it in her eyes. The dead, vacant, maniacal look in her muddy browns that are an exact replica of mine.
“Tragic events, huh?” I question, watching her, choosing to taunt her a bit. “What can you do that is so tragic, Amanda? Use the public restroom?” I say, tilting my head.
She chuckles, then steps into my personal space, popping my confidence and resilience like it’s all a joke, like popping a pathetic balloon that can’t stand a chance against her thorns.
Thorns dipped in some kind of lethal acidic poison.
We stare at each other. Our gazes are locked. Her breathing is deep, hard and cool while mine is entirely the opposite. I can hardly catch my breath.
But as I stare at her, I realize something. Amanda looks too calm for this, as if she spent all her time away thinking this through, waiting for me to bait her, ready to strike if I did.
And me with a broken heart and a foolish mind, with a rash, sassy mouth to match, I took the fucking bait. And now I’m caught in the web she weaved.
“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be the cause of someone else’s ruin?” She questions, her eyes on me.
I don’t like where this is going. I feel it in my stomach as the ground starts shaking and quaking under my feet, that I’m about to be pushed off a cliff, sending me to my death.
“What do you mean?” I question, watching her.
“Do you know that the boy who just dropped you off right now is involved in some shady, highly illegal business that can get him sent away?”
Horror and dread mix up in my stomach as I watch as a big, highly amused malicious smile start to spread on her face as she looks at me, my own stomach has since dropped.
No. . .
“How long did you say he could be locked up for, Syrus?”
“About twenty, thirty-five years or even life in prison.” He answers in a bored tone.
“Yes, or even life in prison.” Amanda whistles. “Will you wait for him for that long?” She questions.
Oh God, please no. Please don’t let this be true.
“You don’t have proof.” I seethe, watching them, but I’m not sure about that. There is a calm confidence over both of them that almost makes me barf.
“Oh, but we do! We have years of collected evidence. I’m sure that will do the trick and we can use it!” Amanda says with a laugh.
This woman is nothing but evil. Denise has nothing on my mother.
But what the hell does this all mean?
Everything in me grows absolutely numb but at the same time, everything hurts and I think inside, I’m screaming.
I internally scream to the heavens, howling as my mother and Syrus’ threats soak into me.
But fuck it, Ace is not involved in anything shady, is he?
“I call bullshit.” I say, gritting my teeth as I stare at my mother who laughs her rotten heart out, enjoying my misery.
“That’s not the only thing we can use though, is it Syrus?” She questions her sidekick, turning back to look at him.
He doesn’t bother looking like any part of this bothers him, the part were a mother is tormenting her child, it just doesn’t move him at all as he joins Amanda in making me face something I never knew was possible.
Absolute despair.
“Did you know that your brother’s death was not an accident?” Amanda starts, now circling my shivering, pathetic and trembling body. My knees have weakened, so much so that I can hardly stand up straight, but I force myself to stay up.
“I’m sure you already know that, what with you being nosy, running around with those boys, I’m sure you already know what happened to your brother.” She says.
Something kicks in my chest as soon as she starts talking about George and his death. It bursts through me and before I can control myself, I take a step closer to her.
“What the hell happened to my brother?” I demand, spitting the words out with as much venom as I can muster. I can’t help but feel like this heifer bitch knows exactly what happened to my brother.
Why didn’t I see this earlier?
Why did I dismiss her as a potential suspect?
I was blinded for a hot second by the way she just looked calm those first days I arrived back in Westbrook. When she literally forced me to stay. Was she planning to make this deal even then?
Back then, she was trying to impress Denise but I should have known better, underneath that composed, well put together exterior, she was brewing her portions, lining up her ducks, making sure that she comes out on top.
With me as a sacrifice.
“He was murdered of course!” She cries, a delusional smile on her face. “And the beauty of it all is that the police are investigating the entire accident again, at my request!” She claps her hands and I feel sick to my stomach.
“You sick bitch.” I growl, but she ignores me.
“Did you know that George and the little King boy you have been pinning over for years had a big, explosive fallout that they ended up hating each other? Could it be that George found out about Alexander Kings’ business but before he could do anything about it, lover boy murdered him?” She questions mockingly, her eyes wide with faux concern and curiosity.
“You don’t have any proof to back that up either because that didn’t happen.” I scream.
“Oh but, we have proof baby girl.” She says, waving a finger in the air. “Kids at your school can be witnesses, hell, the entire town knows that before George died, things were not so blue and great between that King boy and my son.” She says.
No.
This isn’t happening. I close my eyes then open them but she’s still standing there, watching me with a malicious smile.
She would never. . .
I shake my head and she starts laughing.
“I’m a grieving mother after all. I lost my son and I’m struggling right now, with all the grief and unresolved questions. I have no peace knowing that my son was murdered by. . .by Alexander King!” She spits out, her voice shrill, completely different from her hard tone.
“Shut up!” I shout. I’ve heard enough, but she’s not done.
“Oh and I can definitely tell the good police of Westbrook Blues that Alexander King was the one who burned down my house that night four years ago, to hide the evidence of what he had done to you! I’m sure there is a rape kit at the hospital that we can use, temper DNA and shit. Money talks after all.” She says, waving a careless hand in the air.
She did not just. . .
I drop to the floor without even a thought, my knees giving in, hitting the carpeted floor with a dull thumb as everything in me just shuts down.
I can’t stop the voices from coming back. I can’t stop the whispers or the shivers that rack my body.
I can’t stop the tears from flowing.
I can’t stop the cracking of my heart.
I can’t stop. . .anything.
My mother just used my rape as a tool against. . .me.
“Aww s
weetheart, are you okay?” She questions, with a look of false concern as she looks down at me.
In this position, I can’t help but feel that she literally has me at her feet and can step on me at any time.
“None of this has to happen, of course. All you have to do is sign this sweet little deal.” She finishes with a flourish. “Hell, you even stand to walk away with five billion dollars!” She exclaims like a game show host.
“After she bears two children, one of them being a boy that will carry on the heritage, that is.” Syrus jumps in.
I can feel bile rising up my throat. I feel myself growing faint as sweat dots my forehead.
This isn’t real.
This isn’t real.
This is all a nightmare.
None of this is actually happening.
“Oh yes, babies! You should be happy, Astraea! You get to be a better mother than I ever was. I bet you’ll like that, wouldn’t you?” She mocks as Syrus makes himself at home on the chair my mother had offered for me before.
She inhales the smoke from her cigar then blows it in my face but I don’t even move.
Frozen in place.
Time moves on without me.
Everything whirls around me.
But coiled deep in me is the need to know, why.
“What do you get from this?” I question her, my voice cracked, barely even above a whisper. It’s a wonder that the words even come out because there is a ball the size of a tennis ball—or maybe the size of my small, reduced life—lodged in my throat.
“Me? Everything of course! We finally get the chance to knock the Kings off their throne, thinking they’re fucking untouchable, especially that bitch, Denise.” She rolls her eyes, and then inhales her cigar again,
“And you think Syrus will deliver that?” I question, feeling numb.
My mother should know by now, men like Syrus Easton should not be trusted.
“Oh, make no mistake sweetheart, the moves are already in place. Everything is going according to plan.” Syrus says as he takes out his own cigar, joining my mother, snipping off the end.
Vicious Hate (Westbrook Blues Book 2) Page 33