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I surprised him with the lead pipe that connected the shower head to the wall, shoved the metal up his ass, then proceeded to bash his skull in with my fists. He lasted all of twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes, and Mr. Brighton was dead as a doornail.

When my dad came to see why the hell I was taking so long he took one look at my naked ass—we’d just finished varsity practice and I was changing when my sister gave me the heads up about the sick fuck—covered in blood and letting loose, he just shook his head and quickly walked his ass out to the parking lot where my mom was waiting for us.

I’m assuming I never faced any legal trouble and only switched to a private school because Larissa let everyone from the chief of police to the dean of admissions run a train on her, but I can’t say for sure.

Knowing how she operates, and the fact that we don’t have enough money to buy anyone off, I don’t doubt I’m right.

Gotta save face, after all.

She doesn’t fuck with me anymore after what she saw, though, and it’s made pushing her buttons a lot more fun because of it.

“You will call me mother while we’re here, Korvin or so help me I will?— “

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Fix your hair,” Mom whispers just before she spins on her heel to face the source of the voice behind her. “Oh my, it’s no trouble at all.”

Quietly scoffing to myself, I keep a grip on Maisie’s hand while I do as she said with the other, pushing my fingers back through my dirty blond waves while I watch my parents don their own masks.

My father tries, and fails, to act like some big tough bastard, puffing out his chest and dropping his voice a few octaves while they exchange introductions.

Mom basically hangs a you can fuck me if you want sign off of her tits as she pushes them up, wiggling around awkwardly while shoving them in this guy’s face.

And that’s when it hits me.

Watching their exchange, the way my mother takes the lead while my dad looks like he’s never met this asshole in a two-thousand-dollar suit before. That’s when it clicks that she’s not just running the show because she’s an alpha and always does.

No, my cunt of a mother knows this guy, she’s the one who set this all up, and she’s the one with the ulterior motive. One beyond getting railed by some rich dude who looks old enough to be her father.

The emphasis she’s placed on Maisie is even more unsettling now and I can only hope that feeling of dread is unwarranted.

Maybe we’re here to get my sister into some Ivy League high school next year so she doesn’t have to associate with me or some shit, and the only way for that to happen is a meet and greet cover so Larissa can work out her alternate payment.

We should be so lucky.

Leaning back in my chair, I roll the toothpick over my teeth, my tongue pushing it back and forth as I watch the worst fucking show I have ever seen.

My pussy of a father is chatting up the son of the old timer who owns this house.

I haven’t seen my dad act like this before but I swear he’s actually flirting and trying to be cute with him.

It’s almost like he has a crush on this Bryce Harden douchebag, and it’s just as curious as it is gross.

Especially considering my mother disappeared with Charles, Bryce’s dad, a few hours ago and is most likely letting that ancient fucker rail her in some dark corner.

I roll my eyes as I watch for a few more seconds, horrified by the idea of my parents tag teaming a father son duo, then shift to the group by the pool.

Apparently this group of assholes is the next generation of Harden Ranch.

Five sons, their ages ranging from mid thirties to a couple years older than me, and while I’m sure it pays to be in whatever business they’re in, looking at them has me wondering how long these dumbasses are going to keep it going when their pops squared are gone.

Alan is the oldest.

The oldest, the fattest, the baldest, and seemingly the stupidest, but he has a look about him like he’ll literally do anything to take over this company and make the kind of money the generations before him have.

After him is a set of twins, Jeremy and Joseph, and one look told me these dickheads are the ones supplying whatever the hell drugs the guards are eating on a regular basis.

I am not a small guy, I’m pretty big for seventeen, but holy shit tweedle dumb and tweedle dipshit are so roided out they can’t put their fucking arms down.

And all they’ve done since dinner ended is psych each other up over nothing rooted in reality, bumping their chests and screaming into each other’s faces, then disappearing for random twenty minute intervals before walking out looking like they took a nosedive into a bag of cocaine.

A high pitched giggle has my gaze wandering toward the pool again, just in time to see Walker, the youngest son, toss their little sisters into the water, letting out a maniacal laugh before he jumps in after them.

He’s ok.

Walker is nineteen, getting ready to go into his second year of college, and he comes off as the most grounded fucker in the bunch.

Which makes sense. Maisie told me he’s a beta.

A big beta from my experience, but a beta nonetheless, and that’s absolutely why he’s not a raging asshole like his older brothers.

“I said no,” the biggest and most dangerous of said assholes, Wilder, barks at his mother as they come storming out of the back of the house. “There’s no goddamn reason to heat the barns, not when the livestock in them is worthless.”

I frown as I watch him march across the yard, Camilla trying desperately to keep up, almost pleading whatever case she’s making as they get further out of earshot.

I don’t like him.

I don’t like any of them, not really, but Wilder has a vibe that I really don’t fucking like.

His vibe is similar to mine, and that’s why I don’t like it.

I know what I’m capable of, what I enjoy doing, and if that motherfucker is running around with the same sort of aura, then he’s bad fucking news.

Especially since he doesn’t seem to give a shit about anyone.

I have Maisie, she keeps me human. It doesn’t look like that asshole has anyone to do that, which means he’s a loose cannon with no reason to stay loaded.

“Vinny?”

Pulling my gaze away from the strange scene in front of us, I turn to my sister with a smile. “What’s up, Moo Moo?”

She rolls her eyes at my nickname but I can see her smile. “I’m thirteen, Vin. I don’t want you to call me that anymore.”

“Sure thing, Moo.”

“Korvin,” she huffs, trying to scold me before she dissolves into a fit of embarrassed giggles. “Can you at least not call me that when we’re out in public?”

“Okay, Mais.” God, when did she get so grown up? “What do you need?”

“I have to pee.”

“Congratulations?”

Maisie nudges me. “I have to pee, Vinny, and I don’t know where the bathroom is.”

Getting to my feet, I hold out my hand and help my sister out of her lawn chair, my stare shrewd as I scan the crowd again.

Teenage siblings don’t generally hold hands, I know that, and I’m not a huge fan of it, but everything about this feels wrong and I’ll be goddamned if I let my sister feel the effects of whatever the hell is going on.

From the second we walked in, shit has been weird.

Grandpa Harden made a production out of giving us a tour of the big ass house, talking at length about the additional wing they’re still building for the ever growing family.

He didn’t shut up about that, the fact that his daughter-in-law is pregnant, expecting their eighth kid and the sixth boy who’ll inherit part of the family business.

I still don’t know what that is, but it doesn’t really matter since I don’t actually give a shit.

From the most boring tour ever we went directly to the incredibly stupid cocktail hour that consisted of watching all the adults get hammered while us children sipped on virgin drinks.

It was another pointless interaction, but that’s when Maisie talked with Walker and his little sisters, and seeing her happy for the first time since her awakening kept me just out of range.

I could still see and hear everything going on, but I wasn’t looming over my baby sister, and I know she needed that.

Once Larissa and Clark Severe were nearly blasted, they stopped giving a shit about what we were doing, as well, which also helped Maisie feel like a normal teenage girl for a change.

She’s stuck as our mother’s accessory or with our father trying to vicariously live through her as an omega attending the private school he begged his parents to put him in most of the time. She doesn’t get to do things like this.

Maisie isn’t allowed to go out, she doesn’t get to have any friends, and if it wasn’t for me, she’d probably never leave the house, but she comes with me every time I do—unless I’m going to get laid—and I make sure she gets to do some of the normal shit kids do at our age.

The barbecue portion of our evening was okay. Not as good as I expected from these pricks, but they had a pretty big selection, and since I don’t get down on meat, I appreciated that. The vegetarian shish kabob wasn’t half bad, and neither was the zucchini pasta salad.

I did think it was weird that they had a vegetarian selection, especially since I was the only one eating it, but I didn’t complain. I ate, talked shit with my sister, and watched all of these weirdos similarly to the way I am now.

And I don’t stop until we’re back inside that gigantic fucking house looking for the closest toilet.

“This place is like a museum,” Maisie says as she gawks at the portrait of some dickhead in tights. “I wonder how old it is.”

“Considering Charles looks to be about one hundred and forty eight, I’d say this place is old as fuck.”

My sister giggles as she walks ahead of me. “Maybe. He does look pretty old.”

“Ancient.”

“Prehistoric.”

I grin as I watch her spin in a slow circle. “Neolithic.”