Home > Like You Care (Devilbend Dynasty #1)

Like You Care (Devilbend Dynasty #1)
Author: Kaydence Snow

The cable tie around my wrists was so tight my fingers were going numb. The pole they’d tied me to dug into my back, the cold metal and the evening breeze making me shiver.

Or maybe I was shivering from fear.

They’d never gone this far before, never hurt me this badly.

I sobbed, the flood of tears stinging my sore cheek.

The knife was small—just a little switchblade thing—but it looked sharp. A shudder raced down my spine as the tip was dragged gently down my throat, the middle of my chest, my belly.

For the first time, I wondered if I would actually survive this night. Were they really about to kill me? Did their hatred really run that deep?

Movement in the distance caught my attention. Someone was sprinting toward us across the football field.

My heart soared . . . then I recognized him, and it plummeted again.

He stopped just a few feet away, breathing hard, his wide eyes taking in the whole fucked-up scene. He couldn’t hide his reaction; his beautiful face gave it all away—surprise, horror, disbelief, disgust . . . was that anger I saw next?

I couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. My soul was being torn to shreds, and my mind was going with it. I had no idea what he’d do next.

Would he join in and help them destroy me?

Would he stand by and do nothing, let it happen?

Would he walk away, like a coward, so he wouldn’t have to watch?

Or would he defend me? Save me?

Knowing what I’d just learned, what it would mean, what it would cost, did I even want him to?

He took a step forward, and I braced myself to find out if the boy I loved would be my salvation . . . or if my heart would be torn to shreds right along with my mind and soul.

 

 

The tennis ball thunked rhythmically as my cousins got into a lengthy rally. It wasn’t even midday yet, but the sun was already unbearable, reflecting brightly off the blue of the tennis court.

Donna and Harlow were in pristine tennis whites right down to their shoes, their skirts swishing around their tanned thighs as they lunged for balls as though competing at a world-class tournament. I was in shorts and a tank top, my flip-flops abandoned under the chair—nothing pristine about any of it. I didn’t know the first thing about holding a tennis racket, let alone hitting the ball.

My cousins lived on a property big enough to hold a tennis court and a pool. I lived in an apartment off a hallway that always smelled like curry. This was not my world, but these girls were the closest thing I had to friends.

The rally broke, and Donna grunted a “yes” as she pumped her fist.

“Are you two nearly done?” Amaya yelled from the chair next to me before taking a sip of her watermelon juice. She went to Fulton Academy with my cousins and lived on the next street. They’d been friends since preschool, so she was always around when I was around. Not that I minded. I liked her confidence—if only some of it would rub off on me . . .

“Yeah, some of us would like to get in the pool,” I added.

“We need to finish this,” Harlow ground out before crouching down, waiting for her sister to serve.

Amaya and I both groaned and slumped down in our chairs. We were in the shade of a massive umbrella, but it felt as if the sun was beating right through it onto the top of my head. I drank the rest of my own watermelon juice, loudly slurping up the last dregs of the sweet liquid through my straw.

Amaya finished hers too, dropped the empty glass on the table between us, and reached for her phone. She changed the song, the new beat thumping out of the little portable speaker, then stretched her arms up over her head. Her perfectly straight, almost black hair hung down the back of the chair, shining like silk. Her long brown legs were toned and perfect.

I wished I had her beautiful skin. I wished I had anyone’s skin but my own, especially the skin on my face.

“How was your summer, Mena?” Amaya asked, giving me a genuine, friendly smile. It was the question I’d been dreading all morning.

The three of them had spent most of the summer at some camp with their other rich friends. I’d spent the summer on the cramped little balcony of my apartment, doing elaborate makeup looks and then wiping them off again—when I wasn’t working at the diner.

“Pretty chill.” I shrugged and hoped she’d drop it.

“Did you do anything fun with your friends?”

Your friends. Not your other friends or your friends from school. Did she not consider me a friend?

I pushed the choking feeling down and worked hard to keep my expression neutral. “Nothing worth mentioning.” Please drop it. “I can’t stand this heat anymore.” I groaned. “I don’t know how those two aren’t melting.”

My cousins were still whacking the tennis ball, sprinting up and down the court.

“Ugh, I know. They’re gonna get heatstroke.” Amaya took a cigarette out of her pack and lit it.

Seizing the opportunity to avoid the topic of my nonexistent friends, I slipped into my flip-flops. “I’m gonna go get another drink and jump in the pool.”

Amaya waved me away with the cigarette held between her elegant fingers. “Hey, you maniacs!” she yelled as I walked up the path toward the house. “We’ve had enough. You have until I finish this smoke, and then we’re getting in that motherfucking pool, or so help me . . .”

My cousins started shouting back, but I could no longer discern what they were saying. I smiled to myself as my shoulders relaxed. I loved hanging out with these girls, but I really didn’t want to talk about my life. It was easier to just pretend.

I walked through the Meads’ massive house, my flip-flops slapping on marble tile as the AC cooled my flushed skin. My aunt Emily was sitting at the island in the kitchen, flipping through an interior design magazine and sipping on a coffee made for her on the professional espresso machine in their butler’s pantry.

She looked up at me and smiled. Donna and Harlow got their blonde hair and athletic bodies from her and their round eyes from their dad.

“You girls having fun?” She brushed my hair off my shoulder as I leaned on the counter next to her.

“Yes.” My returning smile was genuine. My mother’s sister had never made me feel invisible. She’d also never made me feel awkward about my face or treated me differently because we didn’t have the kind of money she had.

“Where are the others?” She glanced behind me, in the direction of the tennis court.

“We’re all gonna jump in the pool soon. I just came in to get more watermelon juice.” I rolled my eyes and chuckled. “ After your daughters are done battling it out for the top spot in the Australian Open.”

“In this heat?” She shook her head. “Do I need to go tell them to knock it off?”

“No, no,” I rushed out. I didn’t want her to catch Amaya smoking. “They’re wrapping it up.”

My aunt nodded and smoothed my hair again. “OK. Oh, by the way . . .” She hopped off the stool, her understated perfume wafting toward me as she breezed past in a tailored shirt and khaki shorts, not a hair out of place. She picked up a MacBook and coiled-up charger off the side table. “We got Donna and Harlow new laptops for school, so I wanted to give you this one. It’s been reset and all that jazz.”

“Oh.” I took it reflexively, the sleek metal cool in my fingers. “Thank you . . .” I trailed off. I really was thankful, but I knew Mom didn’t like me taking things from my cousins. My dad would be fine with it. He knew my aunt’s gifts came from a good place, and he wasn’t too proud to accept the help. But my mom . . .

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