She looked like a battered daughter.
Falling back to the bed, she tried to listen to what was going on downstairs.
****
“Leave my house,” Ian said.
Draven smiled. “Your house?” He put a hand on the wall and ran his fingers up and down it. “You don’t own this house. We own you, Ian. Remember that.” He stepped up to Harper’s father.
“You’re nothing but a little punk, Draven. You don’t scare me.”
He acted.
Men like Ian were all mouth and no action. Wrapping his fingers around Ian’s throat, he slammed him up against the wall.
To a lot of people, he was a punk-ass kid. They underestimated him. He was Alan Barries’s spawn. His blood ran in his veins, and ever since he’d been old enough, he’d been taught how to fight, how to be ready to take over.
Even as Ian clawed at his wrist, Draven didn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop. He liked that Ian fought him.
It was pointless.
He knew what he was doing and had been fighting for as long as he could remember. Hurting people was second nature to him. His talent came in hurting people.
Hannah entered the hallway and gasped.
“Please, Draven, don’t.”
“Listen, whore, get on your knees, and show this cocksucker who the real man is here.”
“Draven,” Hannah said.
“Now!”
He’d seen his father command her. Hannah went to her knees.
“You see her. She belongs to us. She’s our property, and we allow you to use her because it amuses us. She’s nothing but a cunt and ass designed to take cock. She was your reward for a job well done. We can take it all away. The house, the car, the bitch, all of it. You ever put your hands on Harper again, and I will make you pray for death long before I grant it. Understand?”
“Yes,” Ian wheezed out.
Releasing him, Draven stepped back. “Don’t step out of place again.” Without another word, he shoved Ian to the ground.
“Fuck him, whore.”
With that, he made his way to the stairs and went to find Harper.
He guessed right, finding her flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling. The moment he closed the door, flicking the lock into place, she sat up.
The pajamas she wore were so cute. They had shapes of ice cream cones on them.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
The bruise on her cheek pissed him off. Ian shouldn’t have hit her. She got to her feet, and he stepped up to her, inspecting the bruise.
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” He shook his head. “Don’t ever make excuses again.”
“What about you? You were happy to hit me back.”
He smirked. “I’m not your dad.” He stepped back. “So this is your bedroom. It’s not very you.”
“No, it’s Hannah.”
“That explains it.” He stared at the artwork on the wall. “She likes to spend your father’s cash.”
Draven often wondered if the kid she’d been carrying was even Ian’s.
If his father decided to pay her a visit, it tended to end with him being balls deep inside her. He knew, he’d seen it happen.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, he opened the drawer.
“Hey, what the hell?” She rushed toward him, closing the drawer. “You can’t come here.”
“Why not?”
“Because, I said so.”
He grabbed her wrist, tugging her down on his knee. Putting a hand on her stomach, he reached into the drawer and withdrew the picture of her mother.
“She’s really pretty,” he said.
He’d seen Harper and her mother out around Stonewall plenty of times. They were both alike, both with raven hair and blue eyes.
He recalled going to their house one time. Harper hadn’t been awake. He remembered her because his father had gone to Ian’s house to see him to talk business, only Catherine had opened the door. Ian hadn’t been there, and not long after, Hannah had been given to Ian. Draven wondered if the reason Alan had given Hannah to Ian was in order for her to keep an eye on him. With Catherine, Alan had no control, but through Hannah, he did.
Harper took the picture from him and put it back inside the drawer.
“Why don’t you have it on display?”
“I can’t. They’ll take it from me.”
“They can’t take away the fact she’s your mother.”
“I know that, but I don’t think they do.”
She looked so incredibly sad.
“It’s time for you to get some sleep,” he said.
“You’ve got to leave.”
He lifted her up off his knee, and he stood. “Not happening.”
“Draven!”
“Harper, get into bed and stop being a pain in the ass.” He removed his jacket, kicking off his sneakers and pushing his pants down so he only had on a pair of boxers.
“What the hell?” Harper let out a little squeal, covering her eyes. “Stop. Put some clothes back on.”
“I’m not even naked here.”
“This is not happening.”
He climbed into her bed, putting her blanket over him and snuggling beneath the covers. “This is nice.”