Cruel

by Raven Kennedy

  I didn’t understand it. At first, I thought that they were worried I was going talk, but it seemed deeper than that. I wanted to believe that they were worried for my safety and that their cruelty had a purpose, but that was also hard to believe when they wouldn’t explain anything to me. But Rogue’s words kept haunting me. I have to hate you because it’s easier than losing you.

  Were those words just a part of another mind game? A sick manipulation? If I fell for it, I would hate myself more than I already did.

  Once at the end of the street, I smiled at a man selling cans of strawberry preserves on the corner, and then turned towards the alley that led towards the abandoned train tracks. The closer I got to our secret spot, the more at peace I felt. Each step was bringing me closer to clarity, and the weight on my chest that was brought on by the stress of the last few months started to dissolve. It seemed that no matter what they did, this place still held enough good memories to make me feel better again. When I came here, I still felt like I belonged, standing on top of the world with my best friends at my side.

  We’d come here so many times together. I debated laying down on the tracks for old time’s sake. It was something the guys and I used to do. There was never any real danger headed our way, but just the idea of living life on the edge was enough to have us laughing and invigorated.

  Just as I was about to settle, the sound of someone behind me made me pause. Fuck. I thought I had at least an hour before one of them found me. I bet it was Bonham. I bet they put a tracker on me somehow. I wouldn’t put it past the twisted, controlling fuckers.

  I sighed, not turning around. “Seriously? Can I not go one afternoon without one of you assholes following me?” I said while rolling my neck down. I looked down and noticed that my sheer, navy tights were ripped at the knee.

  “Hmm. I see why they like you,” an unfamiliar voice responded.

  I spun around and froze when I came face-to-face with a strange man. He was wearing a hoodie, pulled tight over his head to shadow his features. He also had on a leather jacket and his arms hung loosely at his sides. I could see tattoos lining his knuckles that spelled “F-I-G-H-T-M-E” on them.

  I swallowed. His accent was distinguishable, but I couldn’t place it.

  “Who are you?” I asked as he took a few steps closer to me.

  He was taller than me, but not nearly as tall as Rogue. I probably should have started running, but fear kept me rooted to the spot. At least here, I could keep him within eyesight.

  “Name’s Dean O’Banion. I’m a friend of the Heirs,” he said in his clipped accent while appraising me.

  I immediately knew that was a lie. The Heirs didn’t have friends. They had each other, they had Heir Chasers, and they had connections. That was it. So who the fuck was this dude? The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as I stared at him, trying to spot any additional identifying markers.

  I was struggling between pretending not to know the guys and hiding behind their influence. “They’ve never mentioned you.” Apparently, I chose wrong, because I saw a hint of a smile peeking from beneath his hood. Shit. I knew it my gut that I should have asked who he was talking about instead, but it was too late now. Time to backpedal.

  “Funny. They’ve made a big show of you bein’ dirt beneath their feet,” O’Banion said, flashing me a smile that turned my blood cold. “Wouldn’t be the first time the Heirs got caught in a lie. So who are you to them, Scarlett Livingston?”

  I frowned at the feeling that I’d just royally fucked up, and the fact that he knew my name sent warning bells off in my head.

  "Well, we don't really talk much. Mostly I use one of them just as a fuck buddy," I said with a shrug, trying to backpedal. But based on the pleased look on his face, he knew I was full of shit. I started rambling, grasping at straws while he stepped closer. "Rogue’s actually supposed to meet me here any minute." I said, looking around. The train tracks were completely deserted. I was out of sight, and wasn't sure that anyone would hear me if I screamed. I had to make this guy believe that I wouldn't be alone for long.

  "Here? Out in the open?” he asked, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “Kinky. I like it."

  "We're not much for having an audience," I said. I tried to take a step back, but he grabbed my arm.

  "I'm not much for bein’ told no," he said with a smile that made a shiver travel up my spine. I nearly choked at the implications of his words. I started thinking about all those fighting lessons Bonham gave me. I could yank out of his grip, maybe kick him in the balls. If I just ran fast enough, maybe... "But luckily for you, my purpose here is short-lived. I just needed to see you."

  A gust of wind blew his hood open for a moment, giving me a glimpse of his pale face and bright blue eyes. His head was shaved, and I got a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck that read "Brothers," before he readjusted the fabric to cover himself up once more.

  "Why do you need to see me?" I asked, hating how my voice sounded weak and timid.

  He squeezed my arm harder, making me wince. "I needed to see what was so special about you that got those boys all out of sorts. They put on an awful good show on when it came to you.”

  I frowned in confusion.

  “Had us nearly tricked, til we heard you showed up at his party and then our guy went missin.’ My boss Johnny Jack needed to know what was worth killing one of his men for,” he looked me up and down. “Now we know. You tell those boys that we know about you, and we know what they took, and my boss ain’t happy.”

  I swallowed hard, my heartbeat blaring in my ears. Off to the distance, I could have sworn I heard another person approaching, but I couldn't see them when I turned to look.

  "Bye, Scarlett Livingston. You tell those boys what I said now, you hear?"

  Dean O’Banion let go of me and walked away, leaving me alone on the train tracks. I watched him retreat, my body trembling from fear and adrenaline.

  What the fuck just happened?

  That man knew. He knew that the guys had killed someone, and he knew my name.

  My heart raced, and it felt like my feet were stuck to the ground, too scared to move. Oddly, I felt more fear now, than I did when I saw Rogue murder a man. It was like my intuition was trying to warn me where the real danger was.

  Once O’Banion was out of sight, I sucked in a deep breath, and then I ran. I ran so hard my skirt billowed up with each step. I pounded my shoes into the concrete as I fled past shops and restaurants and curious people. Me feel ached, my backpack bounced against my back, but I ran until my lungs felt like they were going to burst. I needed answers, but most of all, I needed to feel safe again. So I went to the only place that could give me both of those things.

  I went to Rogue's house.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rogue

  Last period ended, and I gathered my shit to leave. Mr. Davidson wouldn’t meet my eye as I passed. I was pretty sure the fucker pissed his Chinos every time he had to teach a class with me in it. But that might have something to do with the time I caught him looking down Scarlett’s shirt when she was bent over his desk, picking up her papers. I stayed after class that day and reminded him that it would be in his best interest to keep his eyes where they belonged, or I’d have someone remove them. He didn’t look at Scarlett anymore.

  As I was walking out of class, I got a text message, and I instantly tensed up when I read the words on the screen. “Fuck.”

  “What?”

  I looked over to see Bonham come up behind me, forcing people to walk around him as they tried to spill out of the classroom.

  “It’s Jeff. Said Scarlett didn’t make it to last period.”

  Bonham cursed under his breath. “And he’s just now telling us?”

  I read more of the text. “Said he was trying to let us know, but Ms. Bitch snatched his cell before he could send it off.”

  I quickly sent her a text. She didn’t reply. I tried calling her next, but it went straight to voicemail.

/>   Bonham ran a palm over his head. “She was in fifth period. Luis was in there with her.”

  I nodded. “Which means she cut out right after.”

  “Did she catch a ride with her driver? Maybe she just went home.”

  I was already ahead of him. I raised the phone to my ear, listening as it rang. “Hello?”

  “You pick Scarlett up early?” I asked.

  Scarlett’s driver paused on the other end. “No, sir. I’m waiting in the school parking lot to take her to dance.”

  I cursed again, shaking my head no for Bonham’s benefit. As soon as I did, his expression turned worried, and he pulled out his phone, no doubt to text the other guys and get them to meet us here.

  “Drive to the dance studio and see if she’s there, will you?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  I hung up the phone and started texting a couple of my contacts, putting the word out that I was looking for her. I had to be careful. The number of people I could trust these days was few and far between.

  Pretty soon, Luis and Godfrey strode up, and based on their expressions, I knew that Bonham had already filled them in. Scarlett might’ve thought that she would just be pissing us off by ditching early, but there was way more going on here than she knew.

  I wasted no time in giving out orders. “We split up. I got her driver looking for her at the dance school. You two go to her house, see if she walked there. Bonham and I will go to that stupid fucking college boy’s place.”

  “She might be at the train tracks,” Godfrey offered.

  My eyebrows raised in surprise. “She still goes there?”

  He nodded. “Sometimes.”

  “Alright, check there. We’ll go to the gym first. She likes to go there, too.”

  “I didn’t know she was still taking classes,” Bonham said.

  “She’s not. Her mama won’t let her. Said she got too muscular looking or some shit. Scarlett sneaks in on her own sometimes. The coach lets her.”

  The others frowned. Principal Livingston was fucked in the head when it came to her daughter. I remembered what Scarlett had looked like when she was doing gymnastics lessons, on route for the Olympics. She looked fucking hot as hell. And even though she wasn’t doing rigorous training anymore, she’d kept her fit and tight body, and she still looked hot as hell. I could bounce a quarter off her ass, but mostly, I just pictured taking a bite out of it. Or bending her over and fucking her.

  “And if she’s not at any of those places?” Godfrey asked, speaking low so no one would overhear us.

  Luis's lips thinned at the question and his eyes flicked to me. “Think someone tipped off Johnny Jack’s men? About who she is to us?”

  I ran a hand across my jaw, my mind running in about a hundred different directions. I always felt like I hadn’t sleep in months, my brain always too wired to relax.

  Bonham shook his head. “I knew we should’ve let her go to Switzerland, man. I told you,” he said to me, clearly pissed off. “I told you to just let her go, but no. You just had to step in and get my mother to invite her to the debutante bullshit.”

  He was right, but when I’d found out her mama planned to ship Scarlett off, I just couldn’t let it happen. “Well, it’s done,” I retorted. “She’s here, she’s staying, and we just need to figure out where the fuck she is.”

  Everything had gone to shit seven months ago. One fucked up job, and it all went bad. I wished every fucking day that we hadn’t answered that phone call when Godfrey’s crooked lawyer of a father called. We were just supposed to be clean up. Nothing more. We’d wiped evidence for him a hundred times. Bleached bloodstains, dumped drugs, shredded documents, paid people off, you name it. But one job, and everything changed.

  I’d spent fucking years with Scarlett Livingston. Watching her back, being her friend, wanting to be more than her friend. I’d chased off every motherfucker in this shitty prep school who started sniffing around her pleated skirts. And with her nice tits and round ass, not to mention her fuck-me lips and pretty face, there were plenty of assholes lining up.

  But that was the thing about Scarlett. She was always so damn innocent and naïve. She never thought twice when I lied to her about why some dudes bailed on her. We kept them away. It was our way of taking care of her, or so we told ourselves. And yeah, it was about jealousy, too, but she didn’t know that.

  It pissed me the fuck off that Godfrey’s parents and her parents always pushed them together. He was always fucking messing with her, flirting and teasing and shit. I’m pretty sure he did it half the time just to irritate me. Luis and her? They had their own thing. He liked to push her out of her comfort zone. Bonham liked to keep her grounded and stay ahead of the game in any part of her life where she might have been weak. It was his way of helping to make sure that she was strong.

  Me? I just fucking loved her.

  But like I said, she was innocent. Naïve. It sometimes pissed me off just how opposite we were. She had no idea how dirty my hands were. She saw glimpses of it over this last year, sure, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. By the time this was over and everything came out, she would hate me, and I wouldn’t blame her. But that didn’t mean I was willing to let her go. I couldn’t. Switzerland would’ve been safer for her, but I was a selfish bastard who made it so she had to stay here instead.

  The four of us pushed her away because we had to. We put on a damn good show, because it was necessary. We despised her, tormented her, let everyone beat her down, because it was safer that way. We hardened ourselves against her. Made ourselves hate her. Sometimes, we even believed it. And I was such a twisted fucker that I even grew to like it.

  Instead of looking at me adoringly, with those annoyingly innocent eyes of hers, she started looking at me with hurt, dread, and then with challenge. The first two made me want to chase her around like she was my prey—see just how far I could push her. The last made my dick hard. This new Scarlett, the one who fought back, the one who looked at me with lust and hate—that’s the Scarlett that I kept thinking might just stick with me when she realized who I really was.

  If Johnny Jack or any of his Macon Mob lowlifes hurt her, I’d fucking burn this whole city to the ground. It was exactly what we’d been working so hard to avoid all this time. Johnny Jack was known for more than just his crimes. He was also notorious for kidnapping loved ones of the people who crossed him, and we had crossed him. And the only common denominator between the four us? Scarlett Livingston. We knew we had to cut ties with her as soon as things went down.

  And now she was fucking missing. Which meant that Johnny Jack might have finally been tipped off about what we did.

  I turned around and punched the lockers, my knuckles instantly splitting open and my fist leaving a dent in the metal. The sound made several chicks shriek in alarm, but I ignored them and swung again and again.

  Luis was the one to step in and stop me. Not by force, because he knew better than that, but by putting a hand on my shoulder. “Alright, I think you taught the metal a lesson,” he said, trying to break up some of my tension. “Leave some blood in your knuckles, and let’s go find her.”

  He said it quietly enough that no one else but us would’ve been able to hear, but it got through to me. I turned, ignoring the pain in my hand as I flexed my fingers. The guys nodded at me, because even though it was me publicly losing my shit, they felt it, too.

  “Let’s go.”

  The four of us stalked down the hall, and everyone parted to let us pass by. That was the thing about being known as the Heirs. A stupid fucking nickname that we’d been tagged with when the local paper had printed a story about us when we were kids. The article, The Heirs of Savannah, highlighted just how prominent our four families were. We were already friends back then, but our friendship solidified into more like brotherhood from that point on.

  Our families had more money than we knew what to do with, and our names opened any door we wanted. Savannah was ours, and everyone knew it. B
ut our names and our money weren’t enough to go up against the Macon Mob. It was the first time our status as the Heirs had failed us.

  Once we made it outside, the four of us split off. I lifted my chin at Luis and Godfrey, watching as they got in Godfrey’s convertible and sped off.

  Bonham slipped into the passenger seat of my car, and I raced down the street, flipping off anyone who honked at me as I cut them all off to get out of the school’s main parking lot.

  I swung around the lot to check out the gym first, but she wasn’t there. When we got to Clayton Hammond’s apartment twenty minutes later, Bonham and I went up together. There were hanging beads attached to the doorframe of Clay’s apartment like he was some fucking hippie, and there was a sign hanging there that said, “I trained my Rottweiler to bite boobs and balls if you try to come in and steal my shit. PS—if you’re a hot chick, feel free to enter.”

  I rolled my eyes. Clearly, my money hadn’t gone to fixing his door.

  Bonham snorted under his breath and went to knock on the doorframe, but I Just flung the beads aside and walked in. Clay was sitting on the couch with two other guys playing video games and smoking pot.

  He looked over his shoulder when he saw me come in, and then rolled his eyes. “Come to break down more doors?”

  I ignored him. “Where is she?”

  Hearing my hard tone, he immediately dropped his controller and stood up to walk over to us. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as he took in my and Bonham’s expressions.

  “Is this some jealous bullshit, or is this serious?” he asked.

  “Serious,” I answered.

  He studied me for a moment longer and then nodded. “Scarlett doesn’t ever call. She usually just shows up. Mostly when you fucking assholes make her life a living hell at school, or if her mama was on her case. I haven’t seen her today, but if I do, I’ll give you a call.”

  He pulled out his phone and handed it to me, and I shot myself a text from it before handing it back.