Buttons and Lace (Buttons 1)

The men ate like nothing had happened. The violent way Bones just treated me meant nothing to them. Their appetites weren’t suppressed. In fact, they looked even hungrier.

My wrist throbbed so much I couldn’t even use it.

Bones pointed at my plate. “Eat. Now.”

I didn’t defy him again. I used my left hand to eat even though I lacked any sort of appetite. I tried to keep my tears back as the horrifying truth settled on my shoulders. I was about to be raped—by four strangers at once.

Chapter Seven

Crow

I sat in front of the fireplace in my study and watched the flames dance. They cracked and popped, sending sparks deep into the hearth. The countryside was covered in fog from the lingering winter. Sunshine was rare.

My decanter of brandy sat beside me on the table, and I poured another glass, putting myself into a deeper stupor with every drink. The brandy was aged and fine, the best I’d ever tasted. Each bottle cost a fortune, but I refused to drink anything else.

Brandy was my only friend.

I stared at the paintings on the wall, the originals that were made just for me. They showed the lush countryside, the hills of grapevines that led to the sun peering over the horizon. Houses made of cobblestones appeared in the distance, ancient as time itself.

The paintings used to make me happy.

Now they just made me miserable.

A soft knock sounded on the door.

“Yes?” My servants never opened the door without my permission.

“Cane is here to see you.” Patricia’s quiet voice echoed through the door.

I didn’t want to see my brother. I didn’t want to see anyone. The last few times he came by, I dismissed him, refusing to look at him. Pain was better enjoyed alone.

All I wanted was to be alone.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

She remained at the door, pausing.

“What is it, Patricia?”

“He said you would say that...and he also said he’s not leaving until you see him.”

Cane tried my patience just as he did when we were children. “Fine. Send him in.”

“Yes, sir.” Her departure was announced by her fading footsteps.

I poured another glass and returned my eyes to the flames. I sat in the luxurious armchair, my favorite space to occupy when the depression swallowed me. No one ever sat in the other chair. I wasn’t sure why there were two at all.

Cane walked in a few moments later. His beard was thick from not shaving, and his eyes still burned with rage that would never die. He spotted the brandy on the table and helped himself to a glass—the same way he helped himself to all of my things.

He sat in the other armchair and faced the fire.

For a while, comfortable silence filled the room. Our brotherly camaraderie battled the pain we both felt. But then reality sank in. Our family started with five then went down to four. And then it went down to three.

We were the only two left.

He broke the silence. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you either.”

“I’d be surprised if you had since you’re avoiding everyone.”

“I’m not avoiding anyone.” I stirred my glass. “I just don’t want to see anyone. I don’t like anyone. There’s a difference.”

“But you didn’t go to Vanessa’s funeral.”

“What’s the point?” I asked coldly. “I said good-bye to her when her brains splattered all over my fucking jacket. I said good-bye to her when her eyes locked with mine just before she slipped away. Cane, I said my good-byes.” I brought the glass to my lips, taking comfort in the liquid that lit me on fire.

“Mom wouldn’t have been happy.”

“Well, she’s dead too. We’ll never know how she would have felt about it.”

“I just think it was cold.”

“I’m a cold person. Shouldn’t be so surprising.”

His eyes moved to the pictures on the wall, the original artwork that covered most of the walls in my house. They were displayed proudly, magnificent pieces that represented the beauty of the world. “Whatever you say, man.” He turned back to the flames, his fingers constantly tapping on his glass. “I think we’ve taken enough time to grieve.”

I never grieved to begin with. “I’ve been ready for revenge since the night she died. I’ve just been waiting for you.”

“Do you have a plan?”

I spent most of my time conjuring possibilities. I didn’t just take my revenge on the people who crossed me. I mutilated them, humiliated them for the whole world to see. I prepared these things quite delicately, biding my time until the perfect opportunity arrived. “I want to do exactly what he did to us—but to him.”

“And what does that mean, exactly?”

“I want to take someone he loves and torment them mercilessly. I want him to try to sleep every night, knowing we have them. That they are being strangled, raped, and beaten into oblivion. And then, when he thinks he’s going to get them back, that’s when we pull the trigger.”