“And now, it’s just waiting for Astraea’s signature.” My mother finishes, and my jaw tightens.
Astraea might be many things but she loves me, she will never sign it. And as for Emmett, I don’t believe for one second that he signed some damn marriage contract. He would never do that to me. Hell, he’s half in lust and hate with someone else.
“What makes you think your sources of information are correct?” I question, then finish my beer, watching them both but inside, I feel like I’m losing my damn mind.
“Oh you can trust that all my sources are legit. Just like I know at this very moment, Syrus’ son is in the hospital, about to have a heart surgery in the next.” He glances at his watch as my blood runs cold. “Less than forty-eight hours.”
Emmett is sick. . .
That’s what he has been hiding all along.
I remember the children’s hospital bed from years ago.
I remember the times he would not come to school.
I remember the times he would sit on the bench, pretending to nurse an injury from the previous game.
Emmett is sick.
“If you want further proof, we all know how much Syrus’ son loves Astraea. You know that too, don’t you?” Denise presses, her fangs digging deeper in me, her eyes alive with something that I don’t want to press, for fear that I might kill her.
“Why exactly are you telling me this?” I question, feeling bitterness on my tongue, rage in my blood and blinding anger in my fists. I can barely hold it in. “She means nothing to me.” I grit out.
“Oh, that’s a surprise.” Denise says, clutching her pearls, knowing that I’m spewing bullshit.
“Well, I hope you mean it because the girl is with Emmett right now. You might want to see this.” Philip says as he extends his ipad to me.
Trepidation clogs my throat, threatening to choke me but I reach for the dreadful thing anyway.
And there it is, live video footage of a hospital room in which Emmett is visible. I suck in a breath, staring at the screen wishing that it wasn’t real but it is.
“It’s in real time too.” My mother rushes to say but I can fucking see that.
On the live footage, I watch as a trembling Astraea, dressed in the same fucking clothes from earlier, standing in front of an angry Emmett, who is shouting at her.
“Turn the volume up.” Philip says and without even thinking about it, the earth quaking under me, I increase the audio and regret it the moment I do so.
“You love me, and you’ll fucking marry me!” Emmett growls.
My stomach drops to the ground as I stare at Star’s tear stricken face, shock settling in my gut as my face clouds over.
She’s fucking crying!
In front of him!
She’s in pain and Emmett is in front of her!
“Emmett. . .” She starts, her voice shaky. My jaw clenches as my nose flares.
“When will you wake up and smell the fucking roses and realize that asshole doesn’t love you!”
I watch as she flinches at his hard voice, or maybe it’s the cold but I know better, she believes him. She stands there, now hugging herself and Emmett starts laughing, noting the way she stands too.
“Let me guess, you told him that you love him, didn’t you?” He questions, taking a step closer to her trembling body. “Didn’t you?” He demands again, watching her.
I’m going to kill him!
“Yes.” Her weak voice answers.
“And he didn’t say it back, huh?” Emmett mocks, a look of pure enjoyment on his face. “I mean, you can count on King for one thing, he’s fucking honest. If he doesn’t care, he doesn’t fucking care and baby, if he doesn’t love you. . .” He trails off.
“Then he doesn’t love you.” Astraea finishes.
Something in me just darkens, wilts and then dies, falling to a bottomless pit in my stomach.
I watch as Emmett tugs her chin up, his fucking hands on her.
“I’ve loved you for a long time, Astraea and you know this. Marrying me isn't a bad thing. I know you feel it somewhere in there.” He says, looking deep into her eyes. The eyes that shouldn’t be blurred with tears.
I grip the damn ipad in my hands, unable to look away as the love of my life—hell, my soulmate—and my best friend stare at each other like lovers. . .
“Okay. . .” She whispers, sealing her fucking fate.
I stand up and throw the damn ipad away, this time, unlike my damn phone, I can hear the damn thing breaking apart but that only enrages me to the heavens and back to hell where I stand.
I did NOT just see and hear that!
“Now you know, Alexander. I’m not lying to you.” Philip King says from behind me.
Everything is becomes hazy and blurred around my vision. I can hardly hear anything with the buzzing in my ears. My vision shifts and morphs until spots of red are at the edges, distorting everything in front of me, an exact mirror of how I feel inside as rage flows through me, demanding to be unleashed.
“But don’t you worry, you put in motion a plan that I told you do execute when you were six years old.” He continues, his eyes on me. “I asked you to be friends with those boys and you did.”
I remain mute, the images of Emmett and Astraea flashes between my eyes.
“And now, it's time for the final act of vengeance for what they have done behind your back and their plot to dominate Westbrook Blues.” He continues, his voice booming with excitement. “No one crosses a King and gets away with it. No one breaks their vow of loyalty and lives.”
Loyalty huh? What is that anyway?
“And what is that plan?” I growl turning to meet his gaze. In this moment, hate is my default setting. I’m now operating in it, feeling the familiarity of it moving through my system like a trusty, loyal friend.
Rage and vicious hate. My oldest friends.
I’m going to reign down hell on both of them.
She tells me she loves me in my face one hour and the next she’s promising her entire life to another. . .
To my best fucking friend go make matters worse.
I don’t think she has ever tasted what real hate is. At least not the kind that I’m going to serve up. She’s going to wish she never knew me.
“The plan is simple.” Denise says, watching me with an approving smile on her face. I bet she can see the fury on my face as well as the rage, and I know she’s going to capitalize on it.
So much vicious rage.
“It’s time to destroy those families, starting with their heirs.” My father says, watching me. “I trust that you are up for it, going against your friends like that.”
I stare him down, letting him feel my anger, the hate, the ire, the cold fury in me. I smirk when he looks away, unable to hold my gaze.
“I don’t have any friends.” I say, my voice low, deep and so damn threatening.
Without another thought, I turn to leave, ignoring my mother’s happy voice as she speaks to my father.
“I told you, the hate in him is much bigger that you’d think. That girl’s life means nothing to him now. And we didn’t even have to do anything.”
“He’s your son after all.” Philip answers.
I am your son after all. Dad.
The spawn of two ruthless devils. . . I guess that made me a perfect executioner of hell.
Starting with those that have destroyed me from within.
Everything in me is numb.
All my sense are numb.
All my thoughts are probably numb because I can’t seem to be able to think of nothing at all. Everything is at a standstill but instead of taking time to breathe or even feel peace, I feel like I’m floating over to my death.
I’m walking through the halls of the hospital right now, the stark white walls glare at me as if they are also wondering why I’m still here. Death is knocking at my door, and these very halls have felt the angel of death moving.
Will it come for me tonight?
; I don’t know but inside, I’m already dead.
I’m trembling all over. My hands are shaking and twitching. The need to take my anxiety pills is so strong right this hour making me look around. This is a hospital after all, they must have drugs somewhere.
Snap out of it, Astraea!
I shake my head, then I keep walking down the hall of the private wing. Heading towards the room they told me I’ll find him.
Putting one foot in front of the other might just be the hardest thing I have ever done, yet I keep going, as if compelled by this inexplicable need to get there.
To get to him. To get all the fucking answers so that I can try and make some sense out of this. . .hell.
Why did Emmett sign that contract?
Why didn’t he fucking tell me that he was sick?
Why didn’t I fucking see it?
Does this mean Emmett is working with his father? A father that he has hated all his life?
Was Emmett faking it all, all these years? Faking camaraderie with the boys. Closeness with me. With George?
Is that also fake and a lie like my life?
Oh God. . .
I cry escapes my lips and I quickly slap my palm over my mouth to hold it in. Now is not the time to break. Now is the time to war.
For Ace and for Emmett!
It’s probably late, around 2am and then I’m here.
Room 444.
I spot the private room that the nurses told me he was in. I was already on the pre-approved list which means, he was expecting me. He knew I was coming tonight. He knew shit was going to hit the fan and I was going to come here.
I stare at the large, fancy door in front of me, ignoring the tingles and shivers of being the same hospital that I was in four years ago, I still myself, gritting my teeth. This time around, every shred of humanity just falls away as an animalistic need to protect and defend what’s mine, washes over me like freezing water.
I push the door open and there he is, standing by the windows, looking out into the dark but somehow, I watch as his shoulders grow tense.
I hitch in a breath.
“I was wondering when you would come here or at least when you would figure it out.” He says. His voice soft.
Its’s beguiling.
Inviting.
Painful.
Heartbreaking.
“What I’m trying to figure out is why your father has to tell me the most intimate and precious thing about you, when all these years you stood in front of me and pretended like everything is fucking alright.”
As soon as I open my mouth, I can’t stop the accusation from spilling out of me. I can’t even stop the pain that blooms through my chest now.
I watch as his back flexes, his large gait tensing with each word. He is just so gorgeous, beautiful and perfect. You wouldn’t have guess that he was born with any heart defects. Hell, I don’t care for those, he’s still fucking here and that’s all that should matter but it’s not.
I care that he kept it all from me!
“I wouldn’t have to guess anything if you knew how to just be up front about yourself!” I cry.
“Up front?” He exclaims, turning around to stare at me with the coldest gaze I’ve ever seen from him.
“And what was I supposed to say, Astraea?” He questions, and I can’t help but take him in, in all his god-like features. He doesn’t look any different from his gorgeous self.
His angelic face that brings girls to their knees, begging to please him. His soft green eyes that disarm me, breaking all my walls and then there is his build. Emmett is so well built, with a lean waist, thick muscles and all the stuff that gods are made of.
In a word, he was chiseled and divine. Made to rule and to nurture. To protect and to love.
So why then is he sick?
Why is life so unfair?
Why are his heartbeats not guarantee from second to second?
Pain slices through me again, leaving me breathless.
“I don’t know but all I know is, you’re supposed to tell. . . “
“Tell you what? That I’m a defect?” He questions, his voice still soft but his eyes are still hard and cold. “Did you want me to tell you that I was born imperfect” Or that I’m not really a full man?”
Oh God. Is that how you see yourself?
“Emmett, that’s not it. I. . .”
“Can’t look at me without feeling so bad for me that you don’t even know what to say.” He finishes for me but now, I’m all but growing angry.
I step fully into the large, well furnished private hospital room, shutting the door behind me, with anger.
“No! You don’t get to tell me how I feel!” I yell at him, and he watches me. “You don’t get to look at me and get angry at me for this! You don’t get to feel resentment now that the truth is out! You lied to me!”
“And you loved me!” His voice booms above mine as he takes two steps closer to me and suddenly he’s in my face.
“What?” I stutter, unable to look away from his tortured, haunted eyes that hold so much more than pain. They hold anguish and loneliness that I know all too well.
“You fucking loved me and you know it!” He says again, looking down at me with so much rage and despair that it steals my breath away and maybe even my soul.
Oh God.
This isn’t happening right now. No. . .
“I. . .” But he doesn’t give me a chance to speak, cutting me off before I can even breathe.
“You and I both know that you loved me. Right from the moment we met, Astraea. We were just kids but I swear, I remember the way you looked at me. I remember the way you stuck close to me. Am I fucking wrong?” He questions, looking down at me.
“I. . .” Is all I can manage to utter but in my mind and heart, I know exactly what he means.
I can just about see the day I met him. The day I thought to myself that one day I also wanted green-eyed babies with this boy as my husband.
But that was a few minutes before a devil arrived in my life and my life has been upside down since then.
“Am I wrong?” He questions again, his voice still deep, hard, stern but oh so angry.
My heart is pounding in my chest as the pain in his eyes registers with me. I know that pain. It feels like you’re worth nothing. Like no one sees you. Like you don’t matter.
That pain answers something in me and I take a step closer to him, my body trembling.
He’s been in pain all this time and I didn’t even know it. Hell, he’s been sick all his life and I didn’t even have a clue.
“No.” I whisper, looking up at him, wishing that I could turn back time, go back to that day and just love him.
“You looked at me that day with a radiant smile that I will never forget. Etched into my six-year old memory, I don’t think I had ever met anyone more stunning or anyone who looked at me the way you did.” He says, his voice now soft and painful.
God, so painful.
“But on that very same day, you looked over my shoulder as if something behind me had caught your attention. But as I watched you—because God, even then I couldn’t look away from but I should have because you know what I saw?” He questions, his voice deepening with emotion again as he looks down at me.
“Do you know what broke everything in me that day, Astraea?”
I mutely shake my head, hardly able to speak as emotion after emotion threatens to drown me.
“That day, I watched you look over my fucking shoulder and fall deep in love with somebody else that wasn’t me.”
Those. Words. Break. Me. To. The. Core.
“You looked over my shoulder and fell out of love with me Astraea.” He accuses, a hard, humorless smile now on his face as he looks down at me.
“And the sad thing is, I was hoping you would turn back and look at me, focus on me but you didn’t. Hell, with my stutter and dyslexia—that you don’t even know about—I was gearing up to tell you that my heart doesn’t work right but I watche
d your eyes darkened with fascination, maybe there was a bit of shyness too but most of all, you had curiosity shining through your eyes and it wasn‘t even for me.” He groans softly, his chest heavy fast and hard, looking down at me like I’m the cause of it all. And in a way, I think I am.
“Emmett. . .”
“It didn’t take a genius or a fucking billboard announcement to figure out that someone was behind me.”
Ace.
Oh my God.
I can feel the tears coming down from my eyes but I don’t bother making a move to wipe them away from my cheeks, too transfixed by the large man in front of me, bleeding his heart out and mine all over the floor and the space between us because I cut him.
I cut him deep.
And he has been bleeding for years.
He reaches his hand up and starts wiping my tears away, looking in my eyes.
“You don’t have to cry or feel pity for me.” He murmurs, looking down at me.
“Emmett, that’s not what happened.” I say, reaching for his wrist and he lets me, but his hard chuckle is so hateful that I gasp.
“You know, I spent years after that, hoping that you would maybe snap out of it. Hoping that you wouldn’t really be in love with an angry asshole like King who only treats you like shit, bullying you, keeping you to himself like he owned you. I watched all of that and all the while between being in the hospital and dealing with my asshole father, all I could do was fucking hope that you would see me again.”
He sounds so damn defeated, so weak, so helpless.
“And it’s not even that you actually loved him. I think you only wanted a taste of the violent, untamed fire that you somehow saw in his eyes. You wanted him to consume you in a way that you thought I couldn’t. I mean, what little boy with a stutter and health issues could give an adventurous and bold girl like you the thrill of her fucking life?” He questions but doesn’t wait for an answer.
“You just didn’t see me anymore, not with King the picture.”
“But I did see you.” I rush to say and he steps away from me then but doesn’t move away from me. He stays right there, but not within touching distance as if I repulse him.
Vicious Hate (Westbrook Blues Book 2) Page 35