Page 9 of Not Her Day to Die (Star-Crossed #2)

D arius sits on the couch in the bedroom he was thrown into. His face is buried in his hands, his elbows dig painfully into his knees. It’s been weeks since he was sprung from one cell and placed into another.

“Axel and Grayson are not going to come for you,” Maxwell sneers from the chair across from him. “I can’t believe you’re related to me. When father told me”–Maxwell bares his teeth–“I didn’t believe him. But then he explained how your whore mother had led him astray.”

Darius whips his head up, his eyes narrowing at Maxwell. The man’s nose is raw, his pupils blown, his skin is a sickly pale.

Addiction.

Darius recognizes it. His mother walked in and out of his life with it for as long as he could remember. “Dipping into the drugs a bit too much? It’s no wonder he came searching for a replacement son.”

Maxwell shoots to his feet, he points a beefy finger at Darius. “You killed my brother! And then he brought you here. Forced me to take you ‘under my wing’ but you’re the enemy. The reason we had to scale back the business in the first place. You, your brothers, Augustus, and that girl. ”

Darius’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t react otherwise. Even still, Maxwell clocks it.

His eyes darken, a sinister smile stamping itself across his skin.

“Rayden wouldn’t let me have my fun with her.

But now that he’s gone? I’m going to play with that bitch, toss her around, and when she’s used up?

I’m going to cut her open and throw her in a shallow grave.

I wonder what her cunt feels like? I heard your brother had his fill, but you all have been close to her now too.

Have you used her up? Will she be too stretched for me to–”

Darius jumps and swings before he processes what the repercussions will be. His fist lands with a satisfying crunch, effectively breaking Maxwell’s nose.

Before Maxwell can retaliate, the bedroom door slams open.

“You son of a–”

“Sit down!” Sterling commands.

Darius drops to the couch. He knows better than to argue with the man before him.

Sterling. His father. A Thorne.

The man fills up the room with his evil, it is suffocating, thick. A choking haze that causes Darius’s throat to dry.

This is the man that plagued his nightmares.

Tall and slim, dressed neatly. Black hair, cropped short and primly styled. Horn-rimmed glasses sitting on a straight nose. A sharp jaw. His age is only evident by the etches of wrinkles furthering his frown lines and defining his eyes.

Darius hates him. Hates how he looks. Hates that the longer he stares the more similarities he sees.

He had spent as many years as he could pretending this wasn’t his father. That it was some faceless man that left his mother in the dead of night.

But now the truth is literally staring him down.

“Sit,” Sterling commands again. He glowers at Darius but speaks to Maxwell.

Maxwell is a blubbering mess of righteousness and anger. “He broke my mother fuck–”

“Language.” Sterling snaps his fingers and a butler appears .

The butler attends to Maxwell, pushing him down onto the chair, tilting his head back, staunching the blood that still gushes freely with a thick bandage.

“You two will need to learn to get along,” Sterling advises cooly.

“But that girl!” Maxwell yells, wildly waving his hands.

“That girl is the least of our concerns. Darius here put on a show . And now he needs to finish it up. The outside is concerned about police brutality .” Sterling’s tone is level, but even still Darius shivers under the weight of his words.

Sterling Thorne. One of the founding families. He appears unassuming, but Darius knows better.

Knows that the man before him is not only a rapist, but the main culprit in their town’s disgusting underbelly.

“Then why did you bring him here? He’s the one that has caused all of your problems!”

Sterling snaps his fingers, jerks a hand across his throat. The butler who had been helping Maxwell is now strangling him. He wraps the bloodied bandage around his neck, pulling it tight. Suffocating Maxwell.

It goes on for so long that Darius almost wants to intervene. To keep Maxwell from being killed.

But he doesn’t. Darius’s face may no longer be bloody, his ribs are healing, but he remembers the first week after his beating. Remembers how it hurt just to breathe. How he was thrown into a closet to sit in darkness, his mind only able to focus on two things.

His pain.

And Sunday.

He knows his brothers will keep themselves safe, knows that Grayson won’t allow Axel to act out, but Sunday is a different matter entirely. Before she was being yanked along by fate, but now what? Has she truly escaped her death? Or had they simply bought her more time.

Maxwell’s gasps bring Darius back to the here and now.

Sterling angles his head down, takes his glasses off and neatly folds them into his chest pocket.

“No. Sunday is not our main concern. That would be the agent. Specifically the one whose daughter you decided to take for your own. The one you raped and nearly let escape. The one who could single-handedly bring down our organization,” Sterling states levelly.

“And now the FBI has opened a fucking case into Rayden’s death.

Into this town’s handling of Darius’s arrest. Of their delay in aiding the poor bleeding girl .

” Sterling redirects his anger towards Darius.

Darius’s heart pounds into his ears, but he ignores it. He already knows all about Jane and her daughter. Knows that even in this timeline she didn’t let up, she tried her best to make contact with Sunday. But they never let her. Always one step ahead.

He knows that the LIVE feed he made is the only reason Sunday is being kept alive. Knows that Sterling wouldn’t want to bring anymore unwanted attention.

It's why Darius is healed. Why he’s being kept in this gilded cage. Why Maxwell is here with him. They need to appear a united front. Darius needs to be camera ready.

Sterling groans. “A dead idiot. A drug addict. And a bastard. That’s what I’m left with. Rayden couldn’t kill one little girl, instead he left a fucking mess.”

Darius can see that Maxwell wants to speak, to yell at Sterling, but Maxwell is also terrified. His breath coming out in ragged pants, his face pink and splotchy. The butler is back to helping with his nose, but Maxwell flinches away from his touch .

“Sunday is leaving the hospital soon. There is no audio feed on the equipment set up, but it is clear she did not listen to the agent and hopefully she will continue not to. But if that changes, Darius, you will need to act. You will need to convince her. And if you can’t.

..” Sterling allows the threat to hang between them.

Darius doesn’t speak. There is nothing that he can say that will change Sterling. The man has been on his throne for too long; he deems himself untouchable.

And maybe he is.

“At least the bastard is silent.” Sterling cuts his attention back to Maxwell. “Stay out of the supply. You have caused enough damage and I don’t want to clean up any more of your fucking messes.”

Maxwell grits his teeth but keeps his mouth sealed.

“Good, you’re already learning from your brother.

Now get acquainted and figure your shit out.

There will be an interview soon. The lawyers should do most of the speaking, but you will both need to appear amicable.

After all, who would suspect Darius killed Rayden if we all act as if we are a united grieving family. ”

“But what about Rayden?” Maxwell blurts out.

Sterling steps forward, bends on his knees right in front of Maxwell and speaks. Even from his spot feet away, the move enacts terror.

Darius’s pulse quickens, his body tensing.

“He shot himself. That is the official report. He saw Darius with Sunday, and shot her in a fit of jealousy and then turned the gun on himself. A lover’s spat gone awry. Two brothers that fell for the same sweet fruit.”

That is the last Sterling says before he is snapping his fingers and marching from the room, the butler following suit.

He turns in the doorway. “Now clean yourself up. The interview is in just a few days.”

Neither of the brothers speak again.