Page 1 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

NATE

Five Years Old

E ric’s arms tighten around my neck, flinching at the sound of Momma’s and Father’s screams. We huddle in the corner between the stove and the fridge, praying they won’t notice us.

Our bodies tremble with fear, and my brother whimpers when a vase crashes into the wall above our heads, raining down shards of pottery.

I curl myself around him, using my back to shield him from the fight raging around us.

“Shh, Eric. It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe,” I whisper in his ear. His tears and snot coat my neck, but I don’t care. I’m the big brother, and it’s my job to protect him. Even though I failed earlier.

Momma was really mad at him today. I don’t know why she hates Eric so much.

He’s way better than me—he follows all the rules and minds his manners.

Sometimes he’s silly and likes to joke, but he only does that with me.

Eric knows better than to do that in front of our parents, because they’re more likely to hit him than laugh with him.

But no matter how good he is, she always yells at him, smacks him, or makes him stand in the corner during meals.

Some days, she doesn’t let him eat at all.

Momma caught him sneaking a cookie. She didn’t care that he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Father walked in on her holding him upside down, beating him, and the two of them started fighting after he tore Eric from her grip.

“I’m fucking sick to death of taking care of your filthy little bastard because your whore ran away!” she yells, tossing her hands in the air and getting in his face.

Father grabs her by the throat, throwing her up against the wall. Eric tries to peek over my shoulder, but I block his view when Father bashes her head into the wall.

“You’re just as much a whore as she was, Meredith,” Father grinds out. “I fucking hate you. You’re nothing more than a useless cunt.” Momma slides down the wall, a thin trail of blood following behind.

Eric hiccups a sob, and I grasp his hair, burying his head against my chest. Father glances over at us and grins. It’s his scary smile—the one that makes him look like the Grinch. “You’re tired of looking after my kids? Fine.” He raises his leg, and she flinches, wrapping her arms around her head.

“No, Father!” I shout, but he takes no notice.

She falls to her side with the first kick, her nails snapping off as they gouge into the hardwood floor, trying to get away from him.

The sound of her bones snapping is one I will remember always.

She chokes on the blood bubbling out of her mouth until, with one last kick, her skull caves in.

But he doesn’t stop, not until her insides cover the walls and floor.

I turn my head to the side and throw up, unable to keep it down, even though Father will be angry with me. He strides past us, and another wave of vomit pours from me. My eyes water, and I wipe my mouth on my shoulder, careful not to get any on Eric.

Father comes back with a mop and bucket.

“Clean it up,” he growls, throwing them at our feet.

Bending to his knees, he looks between the two of us and says in a dangerously quiet tone, “And if either of you speaks a word about this to anyone, I will do the same to your brother.” Father grabs us both by our hair and tilts our heads back.

“Do. You. Understand?” We both nod before he strides out of the room.

Eric flings his arms around me and buries his face in my neck. “This is all my fault,” he whispers.

I press a kiss to his forehead. “No, it’s not. I’m going to make sure no one hurts you again, okay?” Eric’s heart thumps against mine, and as I hold my little brother, I notice a scratchy feeling in my chest, like something inside is trying to claw its way out.

And there, among the shattered bone fragments and blood spatter, my demon is born.

ERIC

Thirteen Years Old

I love computers. I can take them apart and put them back together, making them better than they were before. And I have a secret, one I haven’t even told Nate yet, and I tell him everything . I’m teaching myself how to hack. Nate isn’t as tech-minded as I am, but that’s okay.

While I work on the computer, Nate sprawls on my bed, doing his math homework.

Father forced us into homeschooling two years ago when Nate’s basketball coach became suspicious of the bruises covering his back.

Daniel Bannerman couldn’t handle the whispers and side-eyes from the other parents, so he kept us home.

Plus, he’s always been paranoid that we’d tell someone about how he killed our mom. But he should have known his threat was enough to ensure our silence. All Nate and I have is each other, and I’m not about to take the chance that Father will kill him because I can’t keep my mouth shut.

Last week, during a beating Nate took for me when Father was in one of his drunken rages, he confessed he isn’t Nate’s real dad.

We already knew that Momma wasn’t my biological mom—which explained why she hated me so much—but this?

This wrecked me. Knowing my brother, who I love more than anything else in the world, isn’t really my brother, shattered me.

Nate handled the news better than I did. Later that night, when I snuck into his room still reeling in shock, he turned his covers back and let me cuddle with him. It doesn’t matter. You’re still my brother, and I’ll always keep you safe.

The sound of the front door opening makes Nate leap off the bed, moving to stand in front of me. “Why is he home so early?” I whisper, fear crawling down my spine.

“Boys! Get in here,” Father shouts from the living room.

“Stay behind me,” Nate mutters before we scurry down the hallway. I stop at the doorway, my gaze falling on the little girl standing next to our father. She stares up at us with huge brown eyes, her blonde curls bouncing around her face like a halo.

“This is your cousin. I gotta go back to work. Look after her until her mom comes to get her.” I twitch when he slams the door behind him. The kid giggles up at me, the sound muffled by the thumb stuffed in her mouth.

Nate’s brow creases. “Cousin? I didn’t know we had any other family. What’s your name, Goldilocks?”

“I’s not Golocks. I has no powwidge,” she replies, talking around her thumb. Does she ever take it out? A thin line of saliva drips down her chin. Gross. “I’s Essa.”

“Essa?” I repeat. She nods and stares back at me, those big brown eyes tracking every movement. Sighing, I run my hand through my hair. What are we supposed to do with a little kid?

“Are you hungry?” She nods, pops the thumb out, and holds her arms up to me. Nate snickers as I eye the drool monster with distaste. She goes still when I lift her, and looks at me with unusual intensity for a child.

“Ame?” she asks me.

“Eric,” I reply, then point to Nate. “Nate.”

She pats my shoulder, an angelic smile spreading across her face. “My Ewic.” She bounces with excitement when my brother comes out of the pantry with a box of cookies.

“Better give her something healthy with it,” I suggest. He grabs a banana, cuts it in half, and places it and two cookies in front of her.

“Dank you!” Essa claps her hands before stuffing an entire cookie in her mouth. I guess she’s kinda cute. At least she’s got manners.

After our snack, we grab some of our old toys from the attic. She seems to love “smash games,” where we build up cities for her, and she comes through like a wrecking ball, kicking them apart. She laughs her ass off every time, pleased with herself.

After running out of ways to amuse her, I put on Finding Nemo , and she curls up in Nate’s lap, eyes fluttering closed.

We’re a little old for Disney movies, but we don’t move, not wanting to disturb Essa.

I notice him peering down at her with a soft smile on his face.

I guess it’s not so bad having a cousin.

Several hours later, while playing with blocks, a regal-looking blonde-haired woman storms through the door without knocking. She sneers at Essa, snapping her fingers and pointing at her feet. Essa drops to the floor and crawls behind me, holding on to my sweater with a death grip.

“Give me my daughter.” She sidles closer to me, attempting to peer over my shoulder. Warning bells clang in my mind. There’s something very off about her. I try to coax Essa to come out from behind me, but she shakes her head, her lower lip trembling.

Nate jumps to his feet and places his hands on his hips. “And who the fuck are you?”

The woman stands straighter, looking Nate up and down with her nose in the air. “I’m your aunt. I don’t have time for this. Come here. Now.” Essa shakes and tries to mold herself to my back, as if hoping I can keep her safe.

My aunt’s lips thin. She steps around me, eyes flashing in anger, the same sort of look our father gives us when he’s about to lash out.

She reaches for Essa, but she ducks around the other side of me and throws herself onto my chest, her pudgy little arms gripping tightly around my neck.

Before I can even wonder what to do, my aunt grabs her arm in a tight grip, causing her to cry out.

Nate jumps toward us, concerned, but our aunt brushes past him, dragging a screaming Essa along the floor.

“No! My Ewic! My Ate!” she howls, reaching out to us, her little hand grasping while being dragged out the door and toward the car waiting outside.

Nate and I walk over to the doorway, watching our aunt—who never even bothered to tell us her name—slaps Essa over the head and shoves her into a car seat.

They drive away, their car disappearing around the corner before we go back inside.

I recognized the terror I saw in Essa’s eyes.

I see it in the mirror often enough myself.

TESSA

Six Years Old

I lie still, biting down on my lip and holding back tears as Uncle David moves toward the door.

His footsteps pause, and a blinding flash of light scares away the shadows for a brief moment.

The door closes behind him with a snick, leaving me curled up alone in the dark with my body racked with pain.

I bury my face into my pink unicorn pillow with tears streaming down my cheeks. Why didn’t Daddy or Mommy save me? I shouted for them, over and over, but no one came. My arms curl around my pillow, hugging it to me, desperate for a kind touch from something.

Once I’m calm, I push myself up, wincing at the pain in my tummy and between my legs.

I hobble over to my closet and swing it open, revealing the full-length mirror hanging from the back of the door.

The dark surface stares back at me, making my breath catch in my throat.

Am I dead? Panic slams into me, and I reach forward, placing my hand on the glass.

The girl in the mirror steps out of the shadows and lifts her head.

I don’t recognize her at first. Her wild and tangled blonde hair floats around her face.

Hollow red eyes gaze back at me while her puffy lips bleed crimson.

Her torn pink dress hangs off one shoulder, and blood drips down her bare legs.

The girl hesitates for a moment before she, too, steps forward, her small hand reaching out to touch mine. We lean forward, and she smiles when our lips touch. Together, we leave a bloody kiss behind.

Gazing into her eyes, I make a promise. “Someday, we’ll get out of here and they’ll all die.”

Her teeth bare in a vicious grin before she settles back down within, once again leaving me alone in the shadows of my room.

Just me and my demon.