Chapter 16
Damon
I push down and swallow every single fucking emotion inside me. I cannot show weakness in front of my brother—or any other member of my family. I blink slowly, exhaling, feeling the invisible mask slip across my features.
As I open my car door, I spot my brother at the top of the steps. He’s dressed similar to me, and I realize some things never change. It may have been years since we’ve last seen each other, but he is the same person he was when I left—and vice versa.
I walk over to the passenger side and open Keira’s door. She eyes me with a hesitant glare before stepping out. Everything about Keira screams innocent—from the softness of her eyes, to the way she sees people as if they could do no wrong. She knows I’m a bad man, yet she thinks I can save her. Taking her hand into mine, I squeeze her fingers and close the door. I can feel my brother’s eyes on us, and I know I need to prove a point.
Without warning, probably catching Keira completely off guard, I sink my fingers into her curls, wrenching her head back. Then I press my lips to hers. Her body shakes, and a cry of pain escapes her, filling my mouth.
I kiss her hard, bruising her lips, making certain my brother sees the ownership I have over her. When I release Keira, she wobbles, and the need to pull her close overwhelms me—but I’m not dumb enough to make such a grave mistake.
We ascend the steps together, and when we reach the top, I stand man to man with my brother.
He has a satisfied grin on his face. His eyes are dark, the color of coffee mixed with a dash of darkness like mine—hell, looking at him is like staring at my reflection in the mirror. He’s only older by a few years, and his age doesn’t show. He looks the same…right down to the monster flickering deep in his eyes.
I watch those monstrous eyes move from me to Keira.
“I like the way you dressed up your doll today. She’s beautiful.”
“She is—and she’s mine,” I sneer. “By the way, I enjoy placing bruises of my own on my property, so the next time you decide to touch something that isn’t yours, you’ll return it the way you found it.”
Xander’s eyes ghost over Keira’s throat. “I’m sorry, little brother. I didn’t mean your pet any harm. She is a fragile little thing. Her skin bruises with barely any force I see.” He snickers. “However, we shall predict her future this evening and see who she truly belongs to. Until then, you can keep her at your side.”
The smile on his face makes my stomach turn. Life and death are nothing but a game to him. He doesn’t care who lives or dies. He only cares about making an example of someone.
Xander strolls into the house through the huge, wrought iron door. Like everything else here, this door holds nothing but bad memories. I should be thankful it holds the memories inside the house and not outside them. God forbid I let them control every single aspect of my life.
As I walk up the steps, my heart sinks. A memory slams into me so hard, it steals the breath from my lungs.
I can’t believe she’s dead. I stare down at my hands. She’s gone. That’s what Father said, but I don’t believe him. She was fine this morning—happy, smiling, and now, I’ll never see her again. The thought hurts. My father told me not to cry for her, and I’m doing my very best, but my eyes are burning with unshed tears.
They are going to spill over soon, proving again how weak I am to my father.
I clench my tiny hands into fists
I better go outside so Father won’t see me. I run down the stairs. I think he’s in the study. I can’t pass him by accident.
My hand is on the brass door knob when I hear heavy footsteps behind me.
No, no, no! Treacherous tears run down my face, staining my cheeks. I try to wipe them away, but it’s already too late.
“Where do you think you are going?” my father’s voice booms, igniting fear deep in my belly. I hate my father…I know this to be true.
“Just outside,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. Maybe if I make myself seem less conspicuous, he will ignore me.
I pull the door open and sprint outside…or try to. My father’s hand is already on my neck, jerking me backward before I can take a second step.
He twists my body around so he can look down at me. His grip is harsh, and I try to stop from shaking.
“Are you fucking crying?” His eyes are daggers glaring down at me, and his fingers dig into my arms with bruising force. “And now you are trying to run from me with the proof of your indescretion staining your cheeks?”