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“Allura,” my mother warns as I sit at the mahogany table, surrounded by four of the most powerful men in the city, along with their lawyers. “Sign the papers.”
The room is small with bare walls, which adds to the already frigid atmosphere.
The guys’ mothers are present, as well, and their judgmental eyes are on me as they stand behind their husbands. They’ve always despised how disobedient I can be. They barely tolerated it from their sons, but to an extent. Me? I’m a daughter, which means zero leniency for mishaps. The problem is, I have always been wild at heart. As far back as I can remember, I’ve felt this burning in my chest, this fire that wanted to be breathed out in a storm of flames that would blaze across the world, seeking whatever it wanted, whenever it wanted. Lately, though, all I’ve been seeking is the ability to breathe again.
But I want that fire back.
Desperately.
If I sign these papers, it feels like I’ll extinguish the possibility of it forever.
“Allura Everlyson,” my mother warns, standing behind me, her fingers curling around shoulders, gripping tight enough that her fingernails dig into my flesh.
So much for caring about me.
Tears burn my eyes, but not from the pain. No, these tears are blistering with rage.
My hand remains frozen with the pen poised, the tip pressed against the paper.
I glance up at these men in the room, and all I can think about is how I wish I could watch them all burn alive, because that’s how I feel.
My father’s eyes narrow. “Justine, get your daughter to sign the fucking papers.”
“Allura.” My mother’s grip tightens.
Everyone is looking at me, including Ryder, Blaise, and Reece.
Ryder is sitting in the chair directly across from mine, his elbows resting on the table. His gaze is fixed on me as he rotates a ring on his finger. While his expression is indifferent, his gaze is fiercely pleading with me to behave. Reece is sitting beside him, and his gaze is searing into me, as well, begging me to cooperate, just like he did earlier. Blaise, however, is cracking, concern written all over his face like the signatures he just scrawled all over the contract.
I look away from him because it makes that agony in my chest manifest again.
My mother’s grip constricts.
For a fleeting, wonderful moment, I consider stabbing myself in the chest with the pen, but it probably wouldn’t even make it in far. It’s amazing how something so weak can seal the end of my life.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I move the pen across the paper, burning my future up with one final swipe of the pen.
My mother releases me, and Ryder’s father, a burly man with dark hair, claps his hands.
“And that, gentlemen, marks the uniting of the four most powerful families in the world,” he announces with a grin.
I want to claw his face off. Instead, I sit in the chair, like a corpse, as they pass around cigars, pour glasses of whiskey, and make toasts of bullshit promises of being one. My bet is this won’t last forever. Eventually, one of the families will want more power, and then the hits will start. All I can do is hope it happens in my lifecycle because that’ll be my ticket out of here.
As the men drink and smoke, the mothers stand around with glasses of champagne in their perfectly manicured hands. They look happy, but who the fuck knows if it’s real.
For the most part, I remain completely unnoticed. I prefer it that way. Then Levi strolls into the room with a light knock on the doorframe.
“Mind if I come in?” he asks my father. “I actually have some news to report about the situation at the Black Throne Lounge.”
“Yes, Levi, come in, please.” He motions for him to come in with a smile on his face that’s real and makes me hate him even more.
Levi grins as he passes me.
Blaise’s gaze tracks his every move, like a predator tracking its prey. Levi doesn’t notice as he stops in front of the fathers and starts explaining the current situation at the Black Throne Lounge, which my father owns. It’s basically a whorehouse.
As my chest constricts, I know I need to get out of here. So, rising to my feet, I push away from the table and head for door.
My mother grabs my arm as I pass her. “Where are you going?”
