Page 46

Rafferty

I can’t take my eyes off her.

She’s electric. She seems to light up the entire room, like she’s the sun and everything around it is spinning in her force.

It’s a shit analogy. A shit comparison. The girl is more alive, more beautiful to look at than that fiery piece of shit in the sky.

I clench my fists, drawing in a deep breath, and furtively cast my eyes about to make sure that I’m not seen. Not noticed.

I know my brother is here, I know any minute he’s going to walk right up and make himself known, and then she’ll smile and laugh at him and fall right into his trap, exactly as my family intends.

A small part of me wants to ruin it right here, right now. To pull her aside and tell her the trouble she’s about to be in. I can imagine the fury on my father’s face as he realises I’ve fucked with his plans, ruined his one chance at redeeming our family’s good name and good fortune.

I let out a chuckle. It’s low, bitter, like that swirling fury in my heart.

Before I can mull over the consequences further, I’m walking, strutting across to the bar.

She spots me almost immediately and I swear her eyes sparkle with amusement, but I could also be imagining that.

As she moves to stand in front of me, I drag my eyes over her body, admiring the curves, the shape, all of her. She clearly works out, clearly takes care of herself, but her nails have the slightest hint of paint under them, revealing her true desire, her true passion.

“Finished appraising?” She says with a hint of a tease in her voice.

Yeah, she’s confident, isn’t she? I’ll admit that haughty tone makes my dick come to life.

And those pouty little lips, I can imagine what they’d feel like wrapped around me, gagging on me, drinking me dry. But that is also not why I’m here.

I’m here to destroy dreams, not create them.

“Could you blame a man for recognising a work of art when he sees it?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes as if she’s heard that line before. “What can I get you?”

I glance at the bottles behind her, acting like I give a shit what drink she pours me. “Whiskey, on the rocks.”

She nods, her lips curled up into a smirk and I couldn’t feel any more of a cliché if I tried.

As she plants it down on the marble counter, she murmurs the cost.

I pull out my wallet and place a note for her to take and as she reaches for it, I grab her hand, pulling her closer to me.

“You need to watch yourself, Scarlett.” I say.

She frowns, her face changing instantly from amusement to concern. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot of things about you.” I reply, keeping my voice low so it doesn’t carry. “For instance, I know that your surname is Heath, that your brother is Sebastian, and that you were brought up by your Aunt Janey who died two years ago in a car crash…”

She tenses up, trying to pull her hand back. “Who the fuck are you?” She snarls.

“You don’t need to worry yourself with who I am. You need to worry about someone else, Alexander Forster.”

She gulps before trying to yank herself free with more effort. “Fuck off, whoever you are…”

“Listen to me, he…”

“Scarlett? Is this man bothering you?” The other waitress, the brunette with a bad set of teeth says, trying to intervene.

“We’re having a private conversation.” I retort before Scarlett can speak.

“Sure you are.” Teeth remarks before turning to Scarlett. “Your friend is back. He’s asking after you…”

Scarlett turns her head. We all do and I see him there, waiting at the far end of the bar.

Thankfully with the fake marble pillars positioned as they are, my face is hidden from view, but I know it’s him.

I can tell from the way he holds himself, the way he’s tapping his fingers like he’s already bored of waiting.

“Listen to me…” I repeat, but Scarlett shakes her head.

“No, you listen to me.” She says. “Whoever the fuck you are, I don’t need advice, and I certainly wouldn’t take it from a creepy arse stranger…”

“He’s my brother.” I state, cutting across the last of her words. “Alexander is my brother.”

She lets out a laugh, a sharp puff of air that’s full of contempt. “Oh I see, is this some pathetic attempt to piss him off? Did you imagine yourself as some sort of hero, is that it? Thought you’d swoop in and try to save me before your wicked brother has his wicked way with me?”

“He’s not who you think he is. He’s dangerous, Scarlett.”

She glances back, looking at the arsehole in question before she leans right over the counter and presses her lips to my ear.

Hot air creeps down my neck as she speaks.

“Then let me let you in on a little secret, Rafferty,” She says, proving that she’s done her research, that she knows all about my family and who we are. “I am just as dangerous.”

“He’s going to try to kill you, you stupid fool.” I hiss. Christ, is she so damn full of herself that she can’t even listen to reason?

“Oh, he can try.” She laughs as if my words are a joke before stalking off, leaving the note there on the marble like she doesn’t give a shit if I pay or not.

I slide onto a barstool, letting my mind muddle over those words as I watch her, as I watch him. She smiles at him, laughs with him, places her hand on his arm in what is more than obviously a flirtatious move to encourage him.

“Better luck next time.” Teeth mutters as she picks up the money.

I pull a face at her but when my eyes return to the object of my attention, they don’t meet hers. They meet his.

Alexander. He’s staring right back at me. He picks up his drink, raises it enough for me to see and takes a sip like this moment here is a victory lap. Like he’s already nailed his prize and is balls deep in her right here, in front of all of us.

Fine. If that’s the way they want to play it. If the stupid woman is so obstinate that she won’t listen to reason then so be it, it’ll be her funeral.

I sip my own drink, savouring the taste for a moment.

Fuck my brother.

Fuck the rest of my family.

And fuck Scarlett Heath too, because apparently she is just as bad as them, as us, the Forster’s. She wants to be belligerent, she wants to lay her head on the block, then so be it.

They can destroy each other.

They can destroy everything.

And I’ll be there to watch it, to witness it, to sit back and enjoy the spectacle until they’re all dead and buried and I’m the last one standing.

She’s gone.

The bed is empty.

I jump up like I’ve been shocked with electricity, fully expecting the doors to be off and my brother to be here. Only, that’s not the scene that meets me.

Instead, there’s just an empty room.

It’s eerie. Silent.

Like she just dissipated into thin air and slipped out in the morning sun.

Jesus Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ .

She left, didn’t she? She willingly walked out and once more put herself right in the line of fire.

I let out a snarl, clenching my fists, completely losing all sense of control as I realise the path she’s chosen.

Oh, I know I said it was her decision. I know those were the words I spoke, but I’d hoped she’d be rational, reasonable.

After everything she’s endured, I’d convinced myself that she would be here, curled up next to me and safe.

That we’d get up, get on my bike, and we’d slip away before my family returned, before the carnage continued.

Instead, she’s chosen pain. Destruction.

I almost admire her for it. She’s got more guts than I realised. More guts than Alexander realises.

Well, she’s not going to be fighting alone, not this time. I’ve sat on the sidelines too long, sat back and allowed almost every horror to unfold. Today, I’m going to inflict a little of my own.

It may not be the plan.

It may go against everything we agreed on, but I don’t give a fuck.

In four days, Scarlett will have more money than she knows what to do with. If I play my cards right now, then she won’t have to suffer more for it, she won’t have to endure further abuse.

I’ll kill them both, kill my father and my brother. I’ll slaughter them where I find them.

And then she’ll be free. She’ll be done.

She won’t have to sully her hands any further, won’t have to blacken her soul any more.

I’ll save her my way. I’ll stop this before we even have to reach the final scene.

I grab a knife, moving quickly. It already feels like I’m out of time.

I don’t know where they are. If she’s with them. I just know that I have to get to them.

The house feels like it’s alive, breathing, its shadows curling and pulling me in deeper as I race through the hallways. Every inch of this place reeks of rot—of secrets buried so deep even the walls resent them.

But I don’t care. Not now. Not tonight.

None of it matters tonight. Not my history, not my family. Nothing but her.

I’m going to find her. I’m going to save her.

It ends here. Tonight.

The thought of Scarlett—her face, her voice, the way she looked at me the last time we spoke, fuels every step. I scan each room frantically, feeling every second leaking away.

They have her. My father. My brother.

And if I don’t get to her soon, they’ll break her the way they’ve broken everything else they’ve ever laid their hands on.

Not Scarlett. Not her.

The oak doors groan on their hinges as I shove them open one by one—library, study, dining hall. There’s nothing. Only dead air and the suffocating stench of liquor and smoke, remnants of my father’s obsession with drowning his sins—or maybe just his boredom.

Where are you, Scarlett?

And where the hell is Alexander?

My fists tighten as I move, sweat pooling on my palms, making the handle of the knife slicker, harder to keep a grip of.

My brother doesn’t deserve her. He doesn’t deserve to breathe after what he’s done—after what I know he’s planning to do.

It’s his talent, really; taking, twisting, destroying. And Father? He’s no better. He taught Alexander everything he knows, bred him, moulded him into his own image.