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I take a bite and slap Lan’s hand when he tries to snag a piece.
“Stingy bitch,” he mutters under his breath.
“And what are you doing here?” Bran asks him from the other side of me after they deliberately put me between them.
“Can’t I hang out with my brother and sister and friends?”
“Friends?” Bran tuts, seeming disgusted. “Since when do you have those?”
“I have a friend.” He nudges my shoulder, but I ignore him, so he stares at the opposite side where Cecily and Ava are bickering with Remi while Glyn tries to mediate. “Isn’t that right, Ces?”
She stops in the middle of cursing Remi, drags her fingers through her grandma-like hair, and smiles. “Sure.”
Hopelessly pathetic.
I’ve gone out of my way to warn her about Landon ever since we were in secondary school. But the chances of her actually listening are slim to zero.
Due to the fact that I only speak when it’s absolutely necessary and after I allow my brain to mull over my words, I notice things. Patterns, lingering gazes, and unresolved obsessions.
It’s how I knew Glyn was into Killian long before he staked a public claim on her. Hell, long before she admitted it to herself.
Despite her reserved nature, Cecily actually yearns for Ava’s openness and what Glyn has with the Heathens’ psychopath.
She just went the wrong way about it. She still is.
In spite of my warnings.
Cecily is one of the purest souls to ever exist with enough heart to fit the globe. When we were young, she defended me every time someone made fun of me. Not that I cared, but I won’t forget how she told me ‘I’ll protect you, Creigh. That’s what friends are for.’
I tried to protect her, too, from the monster on my right, to no avail.
This is why I make it my mission not to get involved in anything that doesn’t concern me. People call it heartless; I call it preserving my time.
“See.” Landon grins at his brother. “I have a friend, so I’m staying for Cecily’s beautiful eyes.”
She blushes. I fix her with my signature blank look and she lowers her head.
“If you’re not leaving, I will,” the nicer of the twins says.
“Bran, don’t.” Glyn leaves her plate and goes to her brother’s side, then strokes his arm. “Come on, it’s so rare for us to get together.”
“You heard our little princess.” Landon pats his sister’s head.
She makes a face at him and he grins back.
Bran is half convinced but keeps throwing daggers at a terribly amused Lan.
The more they show disgust or any sort of hostility, the more he enjoys tormenting the hell out of them. Just because he can.
Chaos ensues, more talking, more dramatics, more fucking noise.
My gaze fixates on the reason behind my sour mood and the darkness that’s been slowly but surely occupying my every waking and sleeping moment.
Annika nibbles on some chips as she sits elegantly on the sofa, both legs bent to the side. She’s wearing a fluffy pajama set that has a cat on it.
Her hair is gathered in a ponytail with a matching purple band.
A ponytail that I’ve been imagining all the ways I can grab onto it as I throw her down on the nearest surface and mark that flawless skin with red welts. They’d look striking against her dewy pale skin.
