And it would if I believed a single fucking second of this.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." He sounds sincere enough. Then he's leaning forward, kissing my forehead. "Me and Pru shared her in Lennox's hotel room, and he walked in on us, so we owed him." His words tumble over quicker now, almost like he needed to get it off his chest.
None of this adds up.
For one, I was the blonde girl he explained.
Two, Lux and I stayed at a timeshare. We didn't sleep together intimately, but we did do other things. And I was still a virgin, so no, I didn’t fuck the twins.
Three, Lux spent only the game time away from me. He didn't even go to the celebratory party after. He stayed with me, making me feel special and adored.
"Wow," I whisper, wanting to call him out for lying. But if this has fueled anything, it's knowing he's a fantastic liar, and somehow, Lux is in on it.
Obviously, not enough, since Just lied straight to my face about something Lux was well aware of.
"Can we shower together and forget about any of that? Move forward somehow?" he asks.
I nod, but deep inside, the darkest part of me, simply fueled on hatred and disregard of all seven guys in my life, sharpens its claws, preparing for the uprising of a lifetime.
They will pay.
I will find out their secrets.
Cass will not have died in vain.
Chapter Eight
Justice
The world is at our fingertips. That's what they taught me in school. Yes, I went to an elite elementary, junior, and high school, but it's the same everywhere.
If you set your mind to it, the world is yours.
They didn't warn you that if you're a mobster's son, your choices were never yours. No matter how far you reached, it would never give you what you wanted most.
My death was written in the books before I'd taken my first breath. It was annotated like an award, stamped on a page, there for the taking.
All as a result of a last name I didn't choose.
When Colt asked me earlier where I met Lux, I knew to lie. Not for my protection but for a game plan. You see, I'm a plotter. My life was set in stone, but the lives of my chess pieces—Lennox DeLeon, included—are movable, malleable to my needs and desires.
Lying to Colt was a ploy.
She wanted closure. I needed honesty.
She failed.
So fucking hard.
Not that I blame her. It's not as if I gave her a bunch ammunition to battle the war beside me but rather gave her more than enough gun powder to turn the gun on me.
We remember that game differently.
She was with Lennox, her hair braided to one side, the little strands straying with the humidity, barely sticking upward away from her woven strands. Hips, wide and grippable, hugged the pleated skirt with fervor. It's like her skin and the material had a pack of who could be more irresistible.
No one lost but onlookers.
She was innocent back then, her bright pale eyes filled with hope and light, less stressed, happy. It looked beautiful on her.
Small and meager, her smile was offered to anyone who gazed upon her, and I wanted to capture that in a bottle, stuff it deep inside my chest where my ribs would keep it prisoner.
But that's not what happened.
She never saw me.
I really wanted Colt to prove me wrong. Call me out on my shit, kiss me, smack me, even yell a little. But there's a fear in the contradiction, something beautiful in the defiance in her gaze. The ability to act coy when I played this girl off as no one. A one-night stand.
And fuck, did my dick harden at the prospect of her being jealous over a fake person. Even with it being her, I could see the jealousy in her eyes.
She didn't stop me because she wanted to seem upset to sell her story. Her reactions were based solely on her own feelings of me macking over a mystery girl.
When we showered, I kept my hands to myself and allowed her to wash me as she continued to play her not-mad-at-me persona. She's jaded. No one can blame her for that.
The reason I ushered her to the shower was purely selfish. They have cameras everywhere Colt frequents besides these showers and the toilets. Here, she is safe from them. And while I know she lied, I'll protect her. She's my girl, even if she hates me right now and wouldn't ever admit it to anyone else.
It's been two hours. Colt left me to go see Melissa, and I waited for Pru to come back. Unlike me, he wasn't playing a game. My twin, for better or worse, is a softie. His soul is as pure as one can get in our line of work, our family, and this fucking town.
He doesn't know about the lie.
Bloodlines mean nothing to him. He only goes along for the ride as a result of being my brother. His heart is a rebel one, a fighter. He’s not willing to sacrifice for the cause.
Duty doesn't matter in the scheme of things, not for him. It's why he protects our girl more than I do. If he could kill the world to save her, he would. His romantic heart is why we ended up in bed with her.
It wasn't part of the plan.
We broke the rules for her.
She doesn't even know the risks we've taken just to touch her, taste her, fuck her... She's oblivious. Tasha didn't prepare her like she had Cassidy.
Even her preparation for Cassidy had been fruitless. Tasha didn’t know everything, only what she had been given by her brother. The problem with Reid Hudson was that the bastard hated women.
Cassidy would be alive today if not for their lack of execution. Tasha should've sought help. Tried harder. Learned more.
She lost her only son—one who no one knows the father—simply by not preparing him correctly.
Inefficiency is the death of execution, both of which Tasha carries tenfold. If she tried harder, many things would be different.
As I'm about to leave Colt's dorm to search for Pru, he comes inside. His face, masked in indifference, doesn't give me a single ounce of how he's feeling.
He's my twin, my best friend, but for once, he's showing nothing.
"She here?" he asks, his tone mostly bored, but whether he's hiding or numbing himself, I know he cares.
"Left to Melissa's," I supply.
I wonder if he's going to hate me for long. Being at odds with Pru is the hardest part of life. He's my confidante, the only person I've ever been able to depend on.
"You showered," he comments, probably noting my change of clothes. Nodding, I don't offer anything. Not the fight, not the lies, and definitely not that there are cameras in here.
Protecting the one person I can't live without is my biggest secret. He knows about the gist, just not the extents I've gone to protect him and Colt.
"Did you want to shower? Colt wedged a towel in the door, allowing us both access if need be."
He shakes his head. "I'm not sure what I want right now, but seeing either of you isn't on my list of wants."
With a heavy sigh, I head for him. Forcing him into a hug, I squeeze him tightly. "I love you, Pru. No matter what."
And with that, I leave him be.
Fucking Lennox DeLeon. He'll be hearing from me.
We aren't fucking kids anymore.
This war ends now.
I don't knock. I know the entrance by heart. It's ingrained in me, just like every other Arcadia founding family. Oderint dum metuant. Let them hate so long as they fear.