Page 5 of Her Wicked Husband (The Huxleys #2)

Bryce

“Hurry!” Ares yells. We make a break for it.

My heart pounds as my brother Ares, my identical twin Josh and I run as fast as our legs can carry us.

Mom lets out a soft cry as she follows. The cookies she gave us churn in my belly.

My vision gets fuzzy, everything going out of focus.

Even though it’s dusk, the sunlight is somehow blinding, making me squint.

I don’t understand why Mom tries to grab us like this. She and Dad argued loudly when they didn’t realize we were listening, and he threatened that she’d never see us again. But kidnapping us like this… Isn’t it too extreme?

You’re such a good boy. My good boy.

Mom’s words ring in my head. She always called me a good boy. I was always sweet-tempered and obedient. Even Aunt Jeremiah told Dad I might be too nice to survive at the family’s law firm.

You’re a good boy, Bryce.

Mom always looked me in the eyes when she said it.

I can always count on you.

The tenderness in her blue eyes. The gentle smile on her lips. Her light fingers stroking my chin and neck .

I love you the most.

Maybe she was scared she might not see us again. Dad always says he doesn’t make threats, only promises. It’s the way of the family, and Grandma and Dad always told us that Huxleys don’t use empty words.

But would Dad keep Mom away from us forever? She loves us.

Right?

A soft sob comes from behind us. Mom . My heart feels funny, like a splinter’s gliding into it. I slow down a little to look back at her. I don’t want her to cry. I need to let her know I’ll always love her because she’s our mom. I’ll never abandon her.

She grabs my shoulder. I wince, but swallow a pained cry. She probably doesn’t mean to hurt me.

“Got you!” The smile on her face isn’t normal. It’s a little scary, her eyes too bright and wide.

“M-Mom…?”

“No!” Ares yells. He runs toward us, headbutting Mom hard. She loses her balance, but she doesn’t let go. Ares bites Mom’s hand. That loosens her grip, and he shoves me toward Josh.

“Get outta here! Now!” Ares screams, then bites Mom’s hand again.

Blood and saliva seep from the wound. Mom screams, then knees Ares in the belly. He doubles over, but he doesn’t loosen his jaw. If it’s possible, the muscles clench tighter.

I freeze, sick to my stomach. It’s my fault Ares is hurt. I have to go help him. But Mom… How can she be like this?

Josh grabs my arm. “We have to go.” His eyes are wide with shock and fear.

Mom was always so gentle. And beautiful. The person who held and comforted me when I scraped a knee. Read me stories. Told me legends from her home country of Nesovia. Slipped me an extra cookie when I begged, saying, “Please! Please, Mommy. You know I love you the most!”

But the woman in front of me, restraining and attacking Ares, is nothing like the one I’ve known. Confusion and horror turn my mind blank, unable to process what I’m seeing.

Holding my hand tightly, Josh starts running. I follow, my body moving on autopilot. I can’t look back and have Josh get taken, too.

Ares, I’m sorry . It should be me she’s hitting, not him. A hot fist clenches around my neck. I struggle to suck in air, and the sound of my breathing grows louder and more ragged.

“Bryce, no! Don’t leave me!” she screams, then lunges for me, her arm stretched out. Somehow she catches the hem of my shirt. I fall face-first, my hand slipping out of Josh’s grip.

The impact makes me see stars. She flips me over and lowers her head until her nose is touching mine. “My baby. You know I love you the most. We should stay together. Remain a happy family of five. Don’t you want that?”

Then her hands wrap around my neck and start to choke me. I struggle, my arms and legs flailing. My vision dims. Am I going to go like this? Fuck. No matter how I struggle to inhale, nothing can get past the tight hands around my throat.

A dog barks somewhere. A girl screams in a voice so familiar it sends a chill down my spine. “Let him go!”

Her shout penetrates the terrifying fog. Mom’s hands lose their strength, then fall away. The weight on me vanishes.

The girl holds my prone body, her presence wrapping around me like a shield. Her warm hand cups my cheek, the gold-ringed green eyes looking down at me with concern and care. The tension inside me eases. I can finally breathe.

“Fiona,” I whisper, clutching her. “Fiona.” I repeat her name as though I can find salvation through it.

“Bryce.” She looks down at me, the sweetness in her gaze leaching away, replaced by cold mockery. “I always found you disgusting,” she says, her voice choppy and harsh. She shoves me away.

“No!” I roll and fall into a pit, falling and falling and—

I jackknife up in bed, sucking in the cold, dry air. My heart races with the vestiges of panic. Clammy sweat covers me from head to toe.

Fuck. Another nightmare. I press the heels of my palms against my eyes, willing the spasming nerves behind them to settle.

I can’t go into the office like this. The Fogeys—the elders of the family—will worry, even if they don’t say anything too overt.

Ares and Josh will notice and wonder if I’m okay.

We all know what Mom’s kidnapping did to us, even though we don’t delve too deeply into it.

We’re lawyers, not psychotherapists. And The Fogeys hired the best therapists money could buy for us.

They probably did a decent job. I quit waking up crying and having nightmares every night.

Now I don’t cry. And the nightmares are only occasional.

Not ideal. But manageable. Ares, Josh and I are all still a little bit broken, but most of the time, we’re okay. When we aren’t, we pretend we are. And when we can’t pretend, we offer each other what support we can.

After all, we’re Huxleys. Pietas et unitas . Without loyalty and unity, we’re nothing.

When my pulse is back to normal and I’m no longer gasping like a fish tossed up on land, I put on workout shorts and head to the home gym to run. Since Gardy passed away, the only way for me to quickly shed the aftereffects of a nightmare is a hard run, lasting at least half an hour.

I step onto the treadmill. I should get a new dog. Maybe another golden retriever…

Except I keep finding reasons not to. Much as I adored Gardy, the last few years of her life were hard. Watching her grow weaker and sicker was painful. Not only that, every time I saw her, it reminded me of Fiona Oberman—a girl as beautiful and treacherous as my mother.

Unlike my mother, though, Fiona lacks self-respect, I think gloomily as the treadmill accelerates. My arms and legs pump, my heart beating faster. My head begins to clear.

Why did my nightmare have to end with Fiona holding me, then tossing me aside? It never involved her until today.

I shake myself mentally. Fiona isn’t likely to reappear in my life ever again.

She knows how much I despise her. She’s a traitorous bitch, but she’s not an idiot.

But Mom? Mom has no shame, and now that Josh and I are thirty, she’ll be back.

She didn’t finagle Dad into giving her the right to visit us again as adults just to stay away for the rest of her life.

The family should’ve put her in prison. Or, failing that, hired a discreet hit man.

Grandma actually might have, if Mom weren’t the only daughter of Nesovian mob boss Vincent Dunkel.

He might not love his daughter, but he could never afford to look weak by failing to protect his own flesh and blood.

Also, The Fogeys wanted to end any entanglement with the mob as quickly as possible.

Dad got the divorce he wanted. Ironic, since Mom tried to kidnap us to avoid getting divorced.

But the family has always been firm on never getting involved with organized crime.

And Dad had already discovered what an unhinged lunatic Mom was by then.

Mom can come back and make a big fucking stink all she wants. But she’ll never be able to deceive and manipulate me. I’m no longer her innocent little boy.

You know I love you the most.

Bullshit. There’s no love or purity of heart—except for the blood members of my family. Pietas et unitas . Loyalty and unity. The motto is engraved into our psyches the moment we’re born. We might squabble with each other, but if anybody else tries to fuck with us?

Oh, hell no.

You’re a good boy.

Yeah, not anymore. Aunt Jeremiah no longer worries about my not having the right temperament to swim with the sharks of Huxley & Webber. I’m no longer the na?ve kid who believed “I love you” actually means anything. It’s just a tool for manipulation.

After the thirty minutes are up, I warm down, stretch and shower.

Select a dark charcoal three-piece suit.

A gift from my stepmom Akiko, it was hand-stitched in Tokyo by the same tailor who dresses all of the men of her zaibatsu family in Japan.

She worked so hard to chip away at my distrust and sullenness after Mom tried to kidnap us…

The images come again: Mom managing to nab Ares, but losing Josh and me because Ares resisted and bought us time to escape.

Self-reproach drips like poison: it’s my fault Ares got taken by Mom .

I close my eyes, exhale, and imagine water leaking from a faucet—then turn it off.

Nobody needs that guilt, especially not me or Ares, the one who suffered the most. He fought so that Josh and I would be safe and happy, not so we would dwell on the past and what could’ve been.

I take extra care styling my hair, ensuring it’s slicked back perfectly. Loop a muted burgundy tie into a trinity knot. A Cartier Tank on my wrist, onyx wolf-head cuff links and I’m ready to face the world without letting anything touch me.