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Chapter twenty-four
I’m not crazy.
I’m not broken.
I’m just tired of trying so fucking hard.
Growing up with a label attached to your last name meant there were certain expectations. Perfection was one of them. I was far from perfect. My father believed he was. My mother pretended to be. My sister tried.
Tatum kept her life simple. My parents sheltered her from how the world worked—howourworld worked—for most of her life. She’d known pain. They didn’t shield her from that. But she hadn’t seen evil, not the way I had. She got a glimpse of it the same night I did, but even then, Dad was there to make sure she looked the other way.
He gave me the theater as a place to hide my failures. Tatum used it to make her dreams a reality. My sister danced because she’d always danced. She loved ballet because that was her passion. I fought because without fighting, the madness brewing inside me would explode. There was a difference between chasing dreams and running from nightmares, between living in the shadows and walking in the darkness.
Tonight, the cage had been replaced with auditorium seating, and the stage was set, framed by heavy velvet curtains. It was Tatum’s turn to shine. The atmosphere was charged with a different kind of energy. The crowd was littered with suits and dresses instead of jeans and tattoos. Everyone was anxiously awaiting theRomeo and Julietballet performance my sister had flawlessly choreographed. I’d seen the rehearsals. It was perfection.
I found my sister backstage getting everything in place for the performance. “These are for you,” I said as I pulled a bouquet of red roses from behind my back and held them out. She already had a white and purple flower tucked behind her ear, probably from Caspian. He’d been hanging around a lot since he got back. “I wanted to be first, but it looks like someone beat me to it.”
She sighed but I knew she wasn’t the least bit frustrated. “Do you not listen to anything I say?”
I smirked. “I know. Not until the end of the performance, blah, blah, blah. But with Dad having his party and all the excitement, I didn’t want to forget.”
Mom put together an invitation-only party where Dad was announcing his plans for presidency and we were all celebrating the one child who didn’t continuously let him down.
“Thank you,” she said with a cute little bow. That was my sister. Miss Manners.
“Miss Huntington,” the guy at the control box interrupted our conversation. “It’s almost time.”
“You should go sit,” she said with a small smile.
I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Knock ‘em dead.”
“It’sbreak a…” She shook her head. “Nevermind. Go.” She waved me off.
I walked away laughing as I headed to the balcony to sit with my parents.
All around me were CEOs and diplomats.
Your daughter is so talented.
You must be very proud.
Mom and Dad beamed with pride and accepted congratulations and praise as if they were the ones who’d done all the work. Neither one of them had ever come to watch a single one of my fights. Dad liked to pretend I was simply the guy who owned the theater. At least, that was what he told his friends, because having a son who painted his face in death and found satisfaction in bloodshed was just another one of the many ways I’d let him down.
The men shook my hand and greeted me with thin-lipped smiles.
Judgmental bastards.
Their wives watched as I rolled a toothpick on my tongue, then eyed the tattoos that trailed down my arms and over my hands. I’d seen that dark look hundreds of times, the one that said,“Any man who looks like this has to be a freak,”right before their eyes fell to my crotch.
I pulled the toothpick from my mouth, then licked my lips, never moving my gaze from theirs, silently answering their unspoken thoughts.
That’s right, baby. I’m the guy who will bend you over and eat that ass from behind. I’ll shove two fingers in your greedy little cunt, then fuck you ‘til you weep. And that thing you like? The one you’re too ashamed to tell anyone about? Yeah, I’ll do that too.
I stuck the toothpick back in my mouth with a chuckle, then took my seat next to Ethan. I made him tag along because I wasn’t into solo torture.
He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Remind me why we’re here again.”
“Because she’s my sister, you dumb fuck. And this is important to her.”
