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Savage Sinners (Elites of Macedon High 3)

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Chapter Three

Alex

The nerve of Amos to carry his things into the foyer after I made it clear he won’t be staying irritates me so deeply that my face flushes with heat. I descend the stairs slowly, presenting a calm and controlled front as I pause a few steps from the tile with my hand perched on the banister.

“Get out, Amos,” I state confidently. “You’re not welcome in my mansion.”

His grin is ugly as he turns to me. “It doesn’t matter if I’m welcome, dear Alexandra. I’m staying.”

“We already kicked you out once. We can do it again.”

“Seems you’re short one person for that, sweetheart.”

The comment stings, even though he isn’t wrong. My mother and I won that battle ages ago, yet somehow, Amos managed to slip back through the cracks, my foundation far too shaky to hold on my own.

“You need a right-hand man,” he insists while approaching me. “Soren is too inexperienced for that. You’re wasting your time.” He pauses a foot away from me and drops his gaze to my thighs. “In more ways than one.”

“You’re a sick freak,” I snarl. “You’re not staying in my house.”

He chuckles coldly while reaching for my cheek. I slap his hand away, but my reaction doesn’t deter him, inspiring him to touch my shoulder instead. “You still need me.”

“I don’t need anyone.”

“Careful, Alexandra. We all need someone close to keep us safe. We’re only human.”

I snort. “You’re not human. You’re a monster.”

Narrowing his eyes only darkens his expression, making me shrink back slightly. Maybe I’m not as cut out for this as I thought. Marrying Parker would have amplified my power and given me support against this pervert.

Why do I have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?

“You’re not ready for the boss life,” Amos accuses while sliding his fingers to my elbow. Stepping back makes me falter and I clutch the banister, trying to steady myself. “Think about how nice it’ll be to have me around to clean up your little…” He licks his lips. “Messes.”

He grabs my hips and grinds against me, causing me to reel back in disgust. Gravity helps me when I shove his shoulders and send him flying back toward the tile. Though he doesn’t fall on his ass, it’s enough to give me space to crouch into a fighting position. He recovers and races forward, where his face meets my fist, causing him to howl in pain while he reaches for his cheekbone.

“You fucking bitch!” he screeches. “You can’t do this without me. Your mother couldn’t do it either. She wasn’t prepared for this life!”

I hiss while ascending a step. “My mother never needed you.”

“The moment she kicked me out was the moment she signed her death warrant. You’ll be doing the same, Alexandra.”

“If you ever try to touch me again, I’ll shoot you dead. Do you understand me?”

When his hand drops from his face, a tiny river of blood trickles from the corner of his eye. It’s a satisfying sight to see him injured, to know that I caused damage. I’m not a frightened little girl anymore.

Like fucking hell am I ever going to allow anyone to treat me that way again.

“The only way you’re sticking around,” I say while planting a hand on my hip, “is if you stay in the guesthouse away from the mansion. If you want to come into the house, you have to ask me first. You’ll be accompanied by a security guard at all times, and you won’t have access to the upper floors.” I smile when I notice the twitch of annoyance in his temple. “We understand each other, don’t we?”

“You’ll regret this.”

I shake my head. “No, you’ll regret this.” I spin around and ascend a few steps, pausing to say over my shoulder, “You’ll wish you left instead.”

That said, I leave to prepare for my debut.

* * *

A light crowd gathers around the fountain in front of the Moretti mansion. People dance under the white tent erected in the side yard while security stands throughout the fields, specter-like guardians prepared for the worst-case scenario. As much as I don’t want to think about the horror of the engagement part, I have to, especially since I’m going to become one of Macedon’s biggest influencers.



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