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Someone had completely erased the aftermath of last night's chaos. The box of bloody hearts was missing, the carpet was no longer stained, and even the wooden shelf looked polished. Fin noticed where my eyes were lingering and a wicked smile played on his lips. His heart must have been pounding with a sinister sense of satisfaction.
“Well, we couldn’t leave the room as if someone had been murdered. Go shower, princess.”
“But how?”
He tucked a finger under my chin and met my gaze. “Do you really want the details?”
I shook my head and got out of the bed. While I showered and got dressed, Fin ordered breakfast. We discussed our new identities, and Fin made sure I remembered my new name, date of birth, and hometown. Leaving everything behind was necessary but not a hardship. My old life hadn’t treated me well and I wouldn’t miss it. I couldn’t wait for my new life with Fin, somewhere else, far away from here.
Before we left, Fin did one last sweep of the room to make sure there were no traces of blood left behind. His secret world intrigued me, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he had to do in order to get the things he did.
“Oh, wait,” I said, stopping in the doorway. “Who did the other heart belong to?” The question popped into my mind, and I was eager to know the answer.
Fin reached for my hand and kissed the top of it. “The bitch. Now I’m safe too.”
Ryker’s Beginnings
Chapter 1: Mommy’s Boy
Ryker
I headed toward my parents’ bedroom on the other side of the house. Their room was the largest in the house, with high ceilings, windows draped in silk curtains, a plush king-size bed, and an ensuite bathroom that could easily accommodate five people. Everything screamed wealth and opulence—everything I hated. Our father was long gone by now, always dressed in a suit and tie before the clock struck seven a.m., leaving our mother to her own devices. I knew she’d be in the bathroom, prepping for her day of shopping and gossiping with her friends.
As I widened the crack of the door, I stepped inside, her signature perfume slapping me in the fucking face. The bed was empty, and a stream of light poured out from under the bathroom door. My muscles tensed, my steps slowing, although I knew exactly what I would find behind the pistachio-colored door. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, a monster pretending to be a loving mother and honorable wife. Except she wasn’t either of those things. A mother, yes, but also a manipulative whore. She was a fucking plague, a disease cloaked in what looked like a cure. I pushed opened the bathroom door and leaned into the doorframe.
There she was, sitting at her large vanity, looking like a picture-perfect trophy wife. She wore a thin silk robe that barely covered her body. Her honey-colored hair was pinned up in curls, and her brown eyes sparkled with mischief. The fabric clung to her large fake tits, her nipples poking through while her perfectly polished nails glinted in the soft light. Our relationship was fucked-up, to say the least.
“Morning, sweetheart,” she purred, clearly enjoying the attention. “What do you want?”
She revealed a smile, her attempt at trying to squeeze her way into my emotions, but I kept my expression cryptic. I inched farther into the posh-looking bathroom and stopped when I stood directly behind her. I leaned against the wall, hands behind my back, head resting on the smooth surface. She pinned me with her gaze without breaking her movements. Her fingers moved effortlessly from one cosmetic item to the next.
“You missed a spot,” I said, raising a finger to my left cheekbone.
A tight-lipped smile pulled at her lips. “You’re too kind.”
I shrugged. “I know you’ve been face-fucked. Just helping you cover up the evidence.”
A thick fog of silence fell over us, and I bathed in it as I let the seconds tick by. She tried to focus and ignore the words that tainted the air, but she couldn’t. It bothered her, clear by the way she repeatedly opened and closed her pressed-powder case. It tempted me to ask if a cock had her by the tongue, but this was more fun.
“Do you need something, dear?”
“No shit.”
She paused, her lip liner inches from her lips as she glared at me in the mirror.
I winked.
“What do you need, Ryker?” Her words came out sharp.
I pushed off the wall and idled behind her. “The same fucking thing I always ask you for, Mommy. Money.”
“I can’t. Your father is watching the accounts more closely.”
“Bullshit. You love money, and there’s not a fucking thing that could get between you and it.” I held her gaze in the mirror, disdain dripping from her eyes. “Plus, we both know the money you give me isn’t from Daddy’s account, anyway.”
My father was a rich man, but Mommy still made her own coin behind her husband’s back. Typical trait of a backstabbing bitch.
I steeled myself before asking for her help, hating the way she’d been my safety net over the years. She shielded me from Dad’s hard hand, but that all changed when I caught her with my uncle. The nurturing relationship we had shattered that day, replaced by something dark and manipulative, coated in soft lies.
