Page 2 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

TESSA

“ W ell, look who it is. Tessa Harrison, the ice queen.” My hands curl around one of my textbooks, my spine snapping straight at the vitriolic words.

St. Mary’s High is supposed to be a Catholic school, but you won’t find God-fearing, Bible-study hungry students among the population.

These people are more likely to suck out your soul than save it.

I spin, schooling my features and clutching the book to my chest. Jacob Carter, St. Mary’s wannabe NBA star, leans his shoulder against the locker next to mine. His teammates, Nash, Oliver, and Michael, surround me, all wearing vicious smiles that make warning bells clang in my mind.

Since the school worships money and athletics over the god they pay lip service to, Jacob and his merry band of dipshits have never faced a single consequence for their actions.

No never means no in their world; it’s an invitation to try harder.

And if that doesn’t work, they aren’t adverse to taking what they want by force.

I’ll admit they’re nice to look at, but they’re not my type.

If they had any brains in their pretty little heads, they’d recognize the darkness swirling inside of me and run far and fast. But they’re too hung up on the fact that I dare to reject them.

I skillfully dodge their grasping hands and ignore their pathetic pickup lines on the daily, hoping it might penetrate their thick skulls that not all girls want to worship at their feet.

Really, I’m teaching these spoiled brats a life lesson. You can’t have everything you want.

If they only knew what I was keeping on a tight leash, they’d think twice before provoking me.

Jacob’s arm lashes out, grabs hold of my ponytail, and yanks me closer to him.

“I want to know why you’re off-limits,” he says, his gaze latching on my lips.

His friends step closer, blocking me from view.

Not that it would matter; it’s a Friday and school ended an hour ago.

Fuck Mr. Wille and his obsession with giving me detention to start my weekends.

My brow creases. “Off-limits?” I repeat, my scalp prickling with the harsh hold he has on my hair.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know. From the first day of freshman year, there’s been a ban on you, and I want to know why. Are you fucking a teacher, Harrison?”

Let me out.

I scoff and try to pull away, but Michael shoves me back into my locker. The edge digs painfully into my back, but I brush it away. It’s nothing compared to what I’ve suffered my entire life.

Let me out.

Adrenaline floods my system, lighting my blood on fire. Calm down, Tessa. Breathe. “No idea what you’re talking about. Let me go.” I slam against Michael’s chest, trying to push past them, but freeze when Oliver reaches down and palms me through my pants.

“Maybe she’s got a magical pussy,” he says, and the others chuckle. “I think we should find out.” His fingers fumble at my zipper, and visions of Uncle David looming over me flood my mind.

Let. Me. Out.

The tenuous grasp snaps and breaks, and red blankets my vision.

I watch from a distance as Oliver screams when we snap his fingers back, the sound of his bones breaking music to our ears.

A dark laugh falls from our lips when we swing our arms and smash the book into Jacob’s face.

Blood gushes from his nose, and he roars before punching us in the face.

We stagger back, dropping the book on the floor with a thump.

“Your four micro dicks put together couldn’t satisfy a two-inch pussy,” we mock, wiping away a strand of saliva with the back of our hand.

“Fuck you. No one is good enough for Princess Tessa, are they?” Michael spits out. He shoulder-checks us into the locker, and pain blazes up our spine. We lift our knee, but he blocks us and presses his mouth against ours.

Warm coppery blood fills our mouth when we bite down on his lip. His eyes fly open, the panicked orbs staring into ours. He struggles against us, but we wind our arms around his neck and hold him close while continuing to bear down. You want a kiss, pretty boy?

Oliver shouts and tries to yank him away while Nash backs up before turning and running down the hall. Pussy.

“Let him go, you crazy bitch,” Jacob shouts, tugging on our arm. We do as we’re told and push Michael away, taking part of his lip with us. We spit the offending piece of flesh onto the floor while he stumbles over his feet and covers his mouth with his hand.

Jacob’s fist flies toward us and?—

The shrill sound of my mother’s voice pierces the veil of darkness surrounding me. Faint beeps, the hiss of air, and the scent of astringent hint that I’m in the hospital. Why am I here?

Pretend you’re asleep.

“Those poor boys. Did you see what she did to them?” Presley says. “Oliver might never be able to play basketball again, and poor Michael needs plastic surgery.”

Of course, it’s my fault. Who cares that they were the ones who attacked me, right? Four on one is always a fair fight.

That bitch has never been a mother to me, and I refuse to give her the honor of calling her that. Mothers are supposed to love, nurture, and protect you. Not hate you, abuse you, and sell you to your pedo uncle.

“Keep your voice down,” Robert says. “I’ve already arranged a payout to their families, even though the police confirmed they started it.”

Presley sniffs. “This is your fault, you know. No daughter of mine would ever have been such a disgrace. But you just couldn’t keep it in your pants, could you? Nothing good ever comes from fucking the help. You never should have forced me to play mommy after she died in childbirth.”

Her words shock me to my core, and it takes everything in me not to react to them. My thoughts are nothing more than a swirling chaotic mess, barely comprehensible as I try to come to terms with it.

Presley’s not my mother. Oh my God. The fucking cunt isn’t my mother. What was my real mom like? Did she love me? Presley is not my mother. Not my mother. Not my mother.

I want to cry with relief, scream the injustice to the heavens, crawl into a hole from despair. The feelings are too big, too heavy, too much. My stomach twists, and I want nothing more than to throw up, to force the feelings out of me in a violent surge so I might be cleansed of them.

I spent almost eighteen years wondering why Presley hated me, and now I know. But the knowledge doesn’t take away the ache in my chest. Am I really so unloveable?

When Robert answers, I pull myself together and pay attention. I can always fall apart later.

“I don’t think?—”

“No, you don’t, do you? I told you to leave the brat in the gutter where she belonged.

Now look where we are. How can the mayor’s best friend be involved in a scandal like this?

I can just picture the headlines now. She’s fucking with our reputation, Robert, and I won’t stand for it. What will the ladies at the club say?”

“What do you suggest?” Robert sounds weary.

In business and in the community of Willowmen, Illinois, he’s a force to be reckoned with.

His company, RH Enterprises, is one of the leading employers in our city.

They donate to the hospital, police force, and school district, and he counts the mayor, several judges, and other high-ranking officials as close friends.

But when it comes to his wife, Robert is a doormat. He allows her to run roughshod over him and takes a backseat when she “disciplines” me. During her worst attack when I was eleven, he just stood back and watched, like the pathetic coward he is.

I tumble off the school bus, clutching the latest letter to my chest while hurrying toward my house. Mrs. Banks, my sixth-grade teacher, started a pen pal project at the beginning of the year. A new letter arrives every few weeks, making me almost giddy with excitement.

My feet carry me over the grassy lawn, the enormous oak trees surrounding the house offering blissful shade from the scorching sun.

I crane my neck to see if Mom’s car is in the driveway, my blood running cold when I spot the silver Mercedes parked there.

Doesn’t she have a meeting at her club today?

After stuffing the letter into my backpack’s front pocket, I pause at the side door and wet my lips. My hand trembles as I grasp the doorknob and ease it open before stepping inside. I make my way toward my room, the silent house mocking me, luring me into false hope.

Presley sits on my bed with the shoe box I keep the letters in beside her. Crumpled up pieces of paper litter the hardwood floor, and my heart seizes. Not my letters. Please, not my letters.

Presley’s head snaps in my direction, and her face contorts into a sneer. “What the fuck are these, Tessa Marie?”

My head shakes back and forth, and I take a stumbling step back.

Presley leaps off the bed and storms toward me, waving the piece of paper.

“Who are they?” she screams, jutting her face into mine, spittle flying from her lips and spraying over my face.

“And why do they know things about what goes on in this house?”

I retreat into the hallway, my wide eyes fixed on hers, waiting for what’s coming.

I committed the ultimate crime—I spoke to someone outside of our house about what was happening to me.

The forced isolation, the pretension of being a happy family, the starvation, the beatings, the daily emotional abuse.

Her eyes darken, and I turn on my heel and run. She chases after me, her heavy footsteps mirroring the pounding of my heart, and I yelp when her fingers catch in my hair, tearing a chunk out.

“Stop, Mom. You’re hurting me,” I cry out. She shoves my shoulders, sending me sprawling to the ground. I glance up to see my dad standing on the stairs, watching. His blank face and cold eyes send a shiver down my spine. Like always, he’ll do nothing to stop her.

I flip over and try to drag myself up. My second mistake. Presley roars insults at me and kicks me in the stomach. Pain bursts outward from the area, and I suck in a startled breath before collapsing.

The front door, a mere six feet away, beckons me with the promise of salvation. If I can get to it, she’ll stop. Her reputation means more to her than almost anything else. She won’t take the chance of someone witnessing who she is under her mask.

“Cocksucking little whore. You better tell me who they are. If this gets out, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I don’t know!” I shout back, my fingers clawing at the floor. “They never told me their names.”

Her heeled foot stomps on my lower back over my kidney. A deep primal scream rips from my throat as the blows continue to come. I curl onto my side and wrap my arms around my head, sobbing and begging her to stop.

But it doesn’t. It goes on and on.

Darkness swirls around me, beckoning me with oblivion.

My mind detaches from my body, body jerking with each kick, but I can no longer hear the crazed ravings spewing from Presley’s mouth.

Just before my eyes close, I swear I see the girl from the mirror standing over me with blood on her lips.

She smears it with two fingers, then holds them out toward me.

Her smile is the last thing I see before the darkness engulfs me.

That beating landed me in a private hospital with injuries so severe I almost died.

It took me months to recover, and I had to endure several excruciating surgeries, including a hysterectomy.

My parents blamed it on a car accident, which no one questioned.

Robert could have prevented all of it, instead of watching on like a sick voyeur.

Presley’s heels tap as she moves around the room.

“Her graduation falls on her eighteenth birthday in four weeks. The doctor says she should be fully healed by then. The Martinellis have a son a few years older than her, and he’ll be able to keep her in line.

Get your brother to set it up since he’s the one with a connection to them. ”

Stay still.

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Fear paralyzes my body. Who are the Martinellis, and why does the prospect of their son fill me with dread?

“You want to marry her off to the Mafia?” Robert asks, his voice filled with incredulity. Is he actually going to defend me for once?

“Why not? They’re the most powerful family in Illinois, and they have ties with the Gianelli family in New York. Just imagine the possibilities, Robert. Think of the ways you could expand the company, of the power you could have.”

Robert says nothing, and a spark of hope bursts into flame.

“Two birds with one stone, dear. We get rid of the bastard and increase our potential. You know I’m tired of living here. Wouldn’t an apartment in the Upper East Side suit us so much better? We can take RH Enterprises to the next level.”

“I’ll have David arrange it,” Robert replies, and the flame sputters out, leaving my body chilled and hollow.

“Good.” Their footsteps recede, the sound of the door closing behind them ringing like a death knell.

My eyes flutter open, and I angrily blink away the tears.

I’ve wasted enough of them on my so-called parents.

I’m done. I’m done begging for their love.

I’m done smiling for the camera and pretending we’re the perfect family.

I’m done being their perfect little daughter with her perfect clothes and perfect hair and perfect grades.

Fuck them.

My lips curl up at the laughter ringing in my head.

Finally , Mirror Girl says. Now, what are we going to do about it?