Seed of Sin (The House of Creed Book 2)

by D. M. Burns

  When I expressed my confusion over this pregnancy, explaining that I never miss my birth control, my doctor was quick to lay it out that the pill was never guaranteed. Many factors could be the culprit such as, sickness, other prescriptions killing the effect, or the fact that it was God’s plan. Two things hit me sideways. When I had the flu and of course, God’s will. The latter being the reasoning that I’m leaning toward more so than anything else.

  Regardless, I can’t change the result, and to be quite honest, I wouldn’t if I could. I’m damn sure not going to stick around for some psychotic butthole to infiltrate their evil beliefs on the outcome of my child's future. The Seed of Sin. Is Logan crazy? Well, that’s obvious. The guy tried to kill me while rambling on about saving my life and not to take it personal, psychopathic prick. Grabbing both sides of my head, I silently rock back and forth. Why am I still alive? Or better yet, how?

  Channing swiftly nabbed the security surveillance from Brogan’s penthouse on our quick exit so, no one would know the details of the dueling death match that had taken place. Of course, Channing tried to view it as soon as we crossed through the threshold of the house but it was blank. Logan’s evil is on point, covering all the bases.

  As we left in Channing’s car, we both watched in a disturbed muted silence as Brogan pulled up curbside in front of BC Towers and exited his SUV. His beautiful face was set in stone with a distressed and angry look etching his severe features. I’m sure he’s going to take one look at his old penthouse living quarters and everything will click.

  After leaving the towers, Channing was similar to an investigator that just single-handedly caught his serial killer. Question after question was tossed out like punches from a heavyweight boxer in the middle of a revenge bout to win his championship belt back from a nasty opponent. I vowed to tell Channing everything as soon as I could but just not right then, later… Much later. I hate lying to my overgrown grizzly bear but I had no other choice.

  Channing knows that I can’t tell him details right now. Brogan can filter through his brother’s mind, twisting down those avenues, and searching them over for the answers he seeks. He was reluctant to agree for a later explanation, but he also could feel my urgency and desperate fear. I told him that we’d all sit down tonight and calmly talk. I have no intention of being here though, no. That was yet, another lie. I hope Channing can forgive me one day. I hope both brothers will in time.

  Making up some excuse for Channing to pick us up dinner, he took off only a few minutes ago. Brogan is a smart man and I know he’s pieced that leftover penthouse warzone together by now. My time is running out. Lincoln is probably catching fire underneath the SUV tires on his destination here already. My phone was turned into dust back inside that death zone at BC Towers anyway. At least I don’t have to worry about missed calls.

  “This is me showing you mercy, something I’ve never done before. I’m giving you a second chance at life. This’ll be our secret though. Just know, that if my hunch is right, I’m going to need you to return the favor at a later date, yeah? You keep quiet or I’ll be the only Lone Walker in existence before everything is said and done. I’m superior in power and I’ll kill them both with zero remorse should they provoke me, starting with Brogan.”

  Logan is nothing short of a scary sinister sociopath with a warped hatred for me. Proclaiming mercy while slicing me up like a monument to commemorate my mother to be status that he was sure to see never made it past the first trimester. He was determined to end my child’s life and I’m hell-bent on that never happening. I shudder at the thought that he’s lurking around in the shadows trying to confirm that his carving skills were precise, dead on.

  Brogan and I haven’t had time to do much of any living as one. Perhaps, this is the way it’s meant to be. Leaving him feels like extracting my heart out of my chest. There’s an open black hole left in its place and I’ve not even left the premises yet. But in light of everything else, this hurt is manageable. Losing my child, even for the briefest of moments back at that penthouse, is something that I know I can’t live with.

  I know I promised Brogan that he didn’t have to worry with ever losing me. I swore I’d never leave him. I’m breaking my promise, but I also have no choice. Logan is far from done with me and going to the cops is not an option. What would I tell them anyway? That my unborn child is a Lone Walker sacrifice waiting to happen? And if Logan can morph into Brogan then he can pop up as the police or shapeshift into whatever little hollowing horror imaginable. God, this all sounds so freaking crazy.

  Bottom line, my only option is to leave. Walking away from Brogan is something I never thought I’d ever contemplate, but when it comes to saving our child, it’s not even about a preference. It’s survival. A mother’s basic instinct. I no longer live for me. I rub my hand softly over my stomach. I live for this little guy, our son. A mother’s intuition tells me it’s a boy, our boy. This is my purpose now.

  When I feel a faint presence on my shoulder, I tilt my head and my eyes latch onto a beautiful friend. One that I haven’t seen since my day at the park so many months ago. My stark white butterfly is fluttering its lovely wings out at me in a gorgeous show of glory. Encouraging me on it would seem. My smile spreads momentarily and I know that everything is going to be okay.

  Standing from the bench, I grab my purse and fish out Brogan’s keys. Stepping to the door, I look over my shoulder as my beautiful winged friend flutters deeper throughout its new home. Unlike me, it belongs here. And I have a plane to catch. It’s time for me to vanish altogether.

  chapter 32

  Brogan

  My ice whites scan the shit scene around me, and my soul releases a morbid sound of sordid terror beneath my skin. I’ve seen this before. Through her eyes. Fuck… Barreling out of the living room, I dart past my head of security at BC Towers and stab the call button for the steel box.

  “Did you see Brealyn leave?” I bark out my question in a fevered tone. Urgency is my new illness.

  The diluted red tint on the rain covered floor is the only fatal snapshot of fuckery flashing over and over again in my throbbing head. I don’t need confirmation to know she was here. Her DNA is splashed out all over the god damn tiles. Bypassing that unnecessary line of questioning is timesaving. I already know the answer. I just need to know that she’s was okay.

  “Yes sir. It was right after the alarms sounded. We think lightning is the culprit for all this damage apart from the entire level floor windows. There’s really no explanation for that sir.” His eyes take in the destruction all around him. “But I’m not sure what would prompt Miss. Winters to leave without checking in. She was okay from the reports I received. Edmond and Sylvia saw her leaving with your brother.” Brant says. Thank fuck… I’m not going off his word alone though. I want visual proof for myself.

  “I want all the security fed sent to my phone immediately. All views of the exits along with the penthouse. Call me when you know something, Brant.” I rasp out my demands without waiting for confirmation. I don’t need one. He knows who’s in charge.

  His silent opinion of me is that I’ve finally lost my corporate cutting edge to a blonde-headed country chick. I hope he’s right, for everyone’s sake. If that’s all I’ve lost then damage control will be minimal. If not, my mental stability will be the least of their worries. The doors open immediately and I step in, fish my cell out of my coat pocket, and dial her number. Straight to voicemail. God damn it…

  Climbing into the back of my blacked-out SUV, I demand Lincoln take me home, our home-mine and Brea’s. He’s eyeballing me with a fair amount of caution. He knows something is up. The amped anxiety is rolling off my body in treacherous waves.

  “Did you escort Brealyn here earlier?” I ask with a dark heavy tone edging over my question while staring at him through the rearview mirror. My eyes haven’t so much as blinked since I stepped foot off that damn elevator and received that stiff slap from the past. That new living room ariel rug that consist
ed of pooled blood is embroidered in my brain.

  “No sir. She insisted on taking the trip with one of the company drivers, Clayton. I know she gave her security the rest of the day off. I didn’t question her motives.” He pulls from the curb into traffic. “I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

  “Yes, you did. So, she did come here.” It’s not a statement. It’s a question that only needs a head gesture, yes or no, to confirm. I’m not sure why I feel the need to get validation for what Brant has already told me, but I do.

  “Yes, sir.” He says.

  “Did Clayton take her home?” I ask.

  “I’m not for sure, sir. But I do know that he was at The House of Creed before we left to come here.” Lincoln eyes me wryly.

  My intake of air through my nose is a pained noise. Lincoln knows that I’m on edge, which is an understatement. Until I see Brea’s face my soul will be unsettled. He fucked up big time by letting her slip off on her own.

  My inside army of demons are scraping and scratching at the lining of my stomach. At first, it was a slow ache with quick intended slashes. Now, it feels like thousands of deep, razor-sharp claws viciously slicing me open from the internal walls of my soul. Gashes that are bleeding out, drowning me from within. I gulp down the overpowering sense of past doubts that have come together, meeting up in the here and now, our present. Death…

  Before the SUV has time to come to a stop, I cast the door open and sprint for the front door, swinging it open. I stand completely still in the massive foyer. Closing my eyes, I pinch both sides of my nose and inwardly cringe then let out a low growl. I know, I fucking know. She’s not here. I can feel it. I don’t know how to explain it but when she’s near, I feel her essence. It’s nowhere to be found now. She’s nowhere to be found.

  Pulling my phone back out of my pocket, I hit the security feed for the house and watch Brea close the door behind Channing then she frantically moves through our home. The last clip is of her carrying suitcases out the front door. She’s alive. That’s the confirmation I so desperately needed.

  Now, I need to know where she went. Did she go to Tamera’s? Maybe back to her loft? And why? Most importantly, I need to get her back here so I can see her breathing body with my own eyes. Touch her warm skin. Give my inside dementors the in-person validation that they desperately seek. Plus, I need to keep her safe.

  I dial her number again knowing the outcome before it rolls over to her voicemail. I take the spiraling stairs two at a time to the second floor and continue until I bound through our master bedroom. My icy cold stare scans the spotless room until it lands on the letter laying peacefully on her pillow accompanied by her engagement ring. Fuck me…

  Bracing my back on the door, I let my head fall against the wood. What the fuck? I stare at that fucking piece of paper wishing I had Channing’s ability to set the thin sheet of doomed news on fire. I squeeze my eyes shut as I let my head softly pound into the door. That haunted explanation mocks me from across my sighted scope. My jaw locks up and I grit my teeth together.

  Without need for the written validation, I turn and leave the Dear John bullshit where it is. If I don’t read it then maybe this situation won’t become real, concrete. A cemented flaw in our design. Leaving the possibility open for her to come through that front door at any given moment. That’s what I’ll do. Denial sounds like a good fucking option at this juncture.

  In a zombie-like state, I move back down the stairs to see Lincoln posted at the door with an apprehensive look on his face. I give him a chin lift. A silent dismissal. He nods his head and steps back out the door without voicing another word.

  When my phone chimes, I pull it out and see a message from the head of my security at BC Towers. The security fed from inside my penthouse is missing and those random cams of any significance were destroyed in the fire. I expected that much. But the footage from the lobby is attached. I crouch down on the bottom step and prepare myself for what I’m about to see.

  Tapping the play button on the security fed attached, I note the time-stamped in the lower corner then look at what time Channing called me to confirm our bogus brotherly bullshit plans. My lungs release a primal growl. I knew that bastard was acting out of character. Why would he call me and not offer up this god damn information right then?

  I watch as Channing and Brea both leave out the side exit right before I arrived. She looks fragile and petrified. Notably, my eyes zoom in on her blood-stained shirt that she was trying to hide under Channing’s blazer. A blanket of chills skate up the base of my spine and distribute across my skin.

  Then the realization hits me out of left field, and I swipe my hand over my face cursing silently under my breath for not catching this before now. Eerily enough, the clothes she has on are those of the exact wardrobe from her nightmare. The one she shared with me. I saw all of this shit many months back.

  Taking a steady breath, I dial the only number that I damn well know will have the answers that I need. This deceitful shit is exactly why I don’t trust people. Death to a Creed is the only thing that my asshole brother will be getting futuristic glimpses of if I don’t find my butterfly.

  Without her, my new take on life will be that of wicked ways. Unlike anything I’m rumored or known for. It’ll be a Creed Creation of the worse kind. I’ll invoke and embrace a new way of life. Funneling my fatal wrath through all those I encounter without remorse.

  authors notes

  Hello, My Ruthless-Love Readers,

  As I’m sure you’re well aware by now, Brogan and Brealyn are the start to a whole new world. I took a step out of my comfort zone with this story, sorta. Fantasy mixed with mystical powers is a new thing for me. Their story is so much more in depth and detailed, but I wanted to paint the scenery well for you.

  If you’re anything like me, you groan out in protest when a story turns out to be a cliff hanger. BECAUSE I NEED TO KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN! It hurts my soul and I feel incomplete until I have the ending.

  In saying that, know this, there was no possible way for me to tell their story in one book, not even two, no-no. They’re the key to a Lone Walker era. Not to mention, I could not do them justice by diluting their world. My love for them wouldn’t allow anything other than a truthful place typed out and told on these pages. Hopefully, you’ll love them as much as I do.

  The Seed of Sin has been a test to my sanity. These characters are hitting me sideways with boomerangs that are driving me mentally insane. And they haven’t let up ether. I’m trudging right on along into Creed Creation and dear sweet baby Jesus, its mind blowing. I can’t wait to share Brogan and Brealyn’s final book with you.

  Remember to follow me so you stay in the know for the next release coming soon. Read below for a peek into creed Creation. It’s a Lone Walker beginning on the rise.

  Acknowledgements

  This has been so much fun and I want to give a big shout out to my readers and my social networking scene. Each one of you keep me sane and in the writing game. Your enthusiasm for the characters helps me focus on that next creative book.

  Normally, I don’t like outing names and placing them on blast because everyone is important to me. But I have two lady’s that stand out in my mind from my Instagram fam. Those are Jemimad and Stela, my little sparrowinlove. You two wonderful women deserve a special shoutout. Thank you for your kind words and creative posts. It truly means so much to me. Your support is humbling, and I deeply appreciate you.

  As always, I want to give an imaginary fist bump to my work fam and DNA bound family tree. I really gave you guys a run for your money throughout this series and for that I’m sorry. My grumpier days and ways were because of the mental arguments these characters played out in my head.

  To my readers, if you would please take the time to leave a review, I’ll be ever so grateful. Tell me about your thoughts. I crave those tidbits of information. Your opinion, word for word, matters to me, and it’s wholeheartedly appreciated.

  Beli
eve me when I tell you that everything you have to say is carried over into the next creative story that my fingertips type out.

  Read below for a taste of the creed Creation, coming very soon.

  XOXO #RuthlessLove,

  D.M. Burns

  Remember to follow me so you stay in the know for the next release coming soon:

  Website: dmburnsbooks.com

  Like my Facebook Page.

  Follow me on my Amazon Page.

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  Hit me up on Goodreads too.

  The House Of Creed

  Series Reading Order:

  Wallstreet God

  Seed of Sin

  Creed Creation

  chapter 1

  Brogan

  The understanding was lost on me when my father never bounced back after losing my mother. I was so sure he had simply given up on life, on love. An old man set in his ways with zero interest in stepping out of his comfort zone and back up at the batter’s plate for another swing.

  As I grew older that concept was completely unreasonable to me. I admired his dedication and devotion to my mom, yes. But I had longed for him to move on. I never pushed or prodded him for understanding. I was too self-involved for that shit. Wasting no time of my own to seek insight from the old sentimental man with a broken heart. Only now, I understand oh so well that what I felt he should do as a functioning adult was the impossible.

  My father’s heart wasn’t the only thing broken, no. His soul was destroyed the day my mother died. A shell of the former man that he once was without her. He never recovered and I get it. An existence without knowing your hearts true desires is mechanical, doable because you’re unaware of that savage urge. But to know them intimately, touch them, feel them, ache underneath the skin for them, and have that disappear out of your life abruptly, is nothing short of penance from a cursed life. The life of a Lone Walker.