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I paused for a long moment, thinking harder about it. “Wait a minute… Is there an attic in Rebel’s house?”
Kaden’s eyes grew massively wide. “Oh, fuck. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK!”
He sprung to his feet, immediately grabbing his phone, and dashed away a few feet before he brought the device to his ear and began pacing back and forth. After sensing eyes on me, I whipped around to find his crew approaching me. Quickly, I launched myself back a few steps to put some distance between us.
“What the fuck is going on?” Lucian asked first, his slitted eyes narrowed at me as I continued to chew uneasily on my lip rings.
I matched his glare but didn’t respond. Veering back to Kaden, I shouted his name, then nudged my head toward his friends when his head abruptly snapped over to our vicinity. Relief washed over Kaden’s face as he came running up to them.
“We have a huge fucking problem. I’ll explain in the car, but we have to leave right fucking now!”
He dashed away, sprinting up the trail like his whole world was crumbling beneath his feet. As his friends raced behind him, I hollered out, “You’re welcome,” and then turned my attention back to the party.
It’s not your problem, Phantom. Just walk away and let them handle it.
I heaved in a deep breath and blew it out, filtering through the crowd for either Rhett or Isaac. I didn’t see Rhett anywhere, but finding Isaac wasn’t hard because he was in the center of thecrowd with two random females grinding against him as they danced. As I glanced ahead, further out near the trees, I caught sight of someone trekking down the trail.
Samara.
I hadn’t expected her to show up. Ever since Ginger up and left without a trace, Samara had been an emotional wreck and refused to speak to any of us. Jace had searched everywhere he could think of but unfortunately, there was no luck on Ginger’s whereabouts. Samara blamed us Ravagers, and well…
She reflectively told us to eat shit and go to Hell.
I watched as Samara made it halfway down the hill, and when she looked up, spotting Isaac and the two whores touching all over him, something straight out of a fucking soap opera began to unfold. Samara took another step forward with her fists curled at her sides, glaring each of them down like she was about to rip their fucking throats out. I thought she’d do just that, and in fact, I was expecting her to make a play for one of her blades at any moment now, but I was left utterly dumbstruck when she spun on her heels with a nasty huff and marched ferociously back through the way she came.
My gaze tilted back on Isaac, and I obliviously shook my head, cursing in disbelief when I saw he was gone, leaving the two drunk bitches to grind and feel up on each other.
By the time I found him, it was already too late. He’d raced up behind Samara just to suffer a vicious backhand across the face as soon as he grabbed ahold of her.
God damnit.
Isaac caught her arm when she tried to strike him again, and a pang of jealousy shot through my veins when he swept her up in his arms and kissed her deeply. A tiny smile curved my lips when she pushed him away and slapped him again. This time, Isaac didn’t retaliate. He just gripped his hair and bellowed out aviperous roar as he kicked the gravel like it was to blame for her reaction.
I sighed and wandered back over to my stump, sitting down. This whole thing was fucked. Our father was her father. We may not have been blood related, but still, shit was different now. Everything we’d known has been one big, fat fucking lie, and my brothers hadn’t the slightest fucking clue. Neither did Samara, as far as I knew.
Rhett was in love with her, and I, as much as it tortured me to admit it, loved her too. And I knew Isaac cared too despite his fucked-up ways. If this was going to work—really work—between us all, Jace included, then Isaac was going to have to gain some form of control over his dick. Relationships had never really been my thing, but it wasn’t rocket science to know that shit like that wasn’t going to fly with Samara. If Isaac truly wanted her, then he had to dedicate himself to her and only her. The biggest question now was when the truth came out, would he still feel the same about her?
Fuck…
Would Rhett?
Would Samara?
It didn’t make two fucks of a difference to me, but Isaac aside, Rhett and Samara were my top and foremost concerns. Xavier Michaelson has been in Rhett’s life since Rhett was five years old. Everything Rhett gained was everything Samara had been deprived of. Where Rhett, before Isaac and I came along, had lived a somewhat happy and wealthy life before his mother died, Samara was forced to suffer. She didn’t have a father, someone to chase away the monsters from her nightmares or to be there when she needed him the most. Father abandoned her.
He fucking abandoned her.
This shit was going to destroy them. I wanted to tell them, but I wasn’t going to. Why? Well, for one, it wasn’t my secret todisclose, and for two, this was on Father and him alone. With any fucking luck, once Samara opens the envelope—if she hadn’t already—she’d come to me. I’d explain what I could and then take her to Father for answers. I only hoped Samara’s feelings for us, whatever they may be, wouldn't fully perish once the truth finally came out. And I fucking prayed Rhett wouldn’t rip a page out of my tragic notebook and try to murder the bastard like he did Brian Barlowe. Like I almost did with Father.
Like I did do to my real one.
I didn’t want to think about this shit anymore, so I tried to focus on something else, like the trials. We were incompetently behind on prep, and despite how I felt about the insidious prick, I still had to get Father’s approval on the date, time, and location. Sharkey said he and Prim could clear out one of our old warehouses for the next trial, but without Father’s approval, I couldn’t give them the OK to clean house and start remodeling. This shit with Samara changed nothing as far as Damien Reyez and the war he started. We had to get these trials done ASAP.
The last thing I wanted was to hear his voice, so I decided to get it over with and thumbed out the text before I got up and shut off my JBL speaker, earning enraged curses and whiney protests from the drunk and doped up adolescents.
“Party’s over,” my voice dangerously shook out. “Go back to your dorms and fuck yourselves.”
“Dude,” someone shouted amidst the flock of fleeing sheep. It was Rhett, dodging and weaving through stumbling bodies with a bewildered look etched on his face. Isaac wasn’t far behind him.
