Malice walked inside with Anthony at his back. "This place is so cute. Kind of looks like it could be a set for a nineties crime documentary," Anthony exclaimed while clapping his hands together. "I mean, the nostalgia! Wow! Is that a photo of you in the third grade? Braces. Love it."
"Hey, Anthony," I said, purposefully ignoring Malice, who was glowering at me. Both men couldn’t have looked more different. Malice was in his signature suit, Anthony wore jeans and a faded tee.
"You skipped work," Malice growled.
"I quit," I replied. "Didn’t you get my letter of resignation? I left it on William’s desk after he taunted my clit with almost over a quarter million dollars’ worth of luxury pearls."
"I heard about that," Anthony piped in. "How was it?" My eyes widened. Anthony was seriously unbothered about my relationship with his brothers? It was the other two giving me a hardcore case of whiplash.
"It was great," I replied, my tone dull.
Malice clenched his jaw. "Why are you quitting? I shouldn’t have to remind you what’s at stake here."
"Right. You’re going to kill me? Blackmail me? Fuck me into submission? I’m over the threats, and the way I see it, I have just as much on you as you have on me."
Anthony let out a low whistle. "Oh, baby, I wouldn’t have done that…"
Malice took off his jacket, flashing me the weapon strapped to his side. "You’re coming back to stay at our house. You can either sleep in my bed or in Anthony’s death dungeon."
"Ooh, a sleepover! We just had a body delivered, so it’ll be a party! I also saved Hale’s dick if you want to stab it a couple times."
My brows raised. "No," I snapped.
Malice nodded, not like he was agreeing with me, but like he was trying to calm himself down. "What do you care? I haven’t spoken to you since…" My voice trailed off.
"Since the two of you fucked?" Anthony finished for me, his expression softening. "Technically, you spoke at the fly-swatting situation, but you weren’t really there, Killer."
"That’s what this is about? You’re pissed because I didn’t hold you after fucking you? You want to feel special—loved—wanted? From the looks of it, you get plenty of attention from my siblings. One of them is bitching to me because he seems to think that he claimed you first. The other one is whining all day because you’re not home. And Vicky? She’s threatening to come home if I don’t take care of you."
Anthony interjected. "You make whining sound like a curse word. Just because I’m in touch with my emotions and am capable of vocalizing my needs doesn’t make me a damn whiner; I just politely asked you to fix this and bring Juliet home."
I sighed. "That’s not my home, Anthony."
He scoffed. "You just don’t know it yet, but I’m your home. It’s okay, I’ll grow on you."
"This is a waste of my time," Malice said while pinching the bridge of his nose.
Without warning, Malice stomped over to me and threw me over his shoulder. I let out a loud yelp, and his strong hand gripped my ass. "You’re coming home. Once you’re in the gang, there’s no getting out. I don’t like having to worry about you while you’re here, and it’s a lot easier to keep an eye on you when you’re under my roof."
I punched his back. "You just want to control me."
The sunshine beat on my back, and I let out a scream, not that anyone would help me. Malice had this uncanny ability to make people scatter and slam their eyes shut. "Anthony, go grab her laptop," Malice shouted.
"You mean that dinosaur on her kitchen table? Sure."
Malice set me down, and I glared at him. "Fuck you," I shouted. He lifted his hand up as if ready to backhand me, and I flinched. My sudden terror made him stop. We had a quick stare down for the briefest of moments before he spoke again. "Anthony wants you home," he finally whispered.
Malice suddenly seemed...helpless. He wasn’t this big, bad mobster in that moment. He was a vulnerable brother determined to do anything to make up for their terrible past. "Is that why you won’t talk to me anymore?" I asked.
"Anthony doesn’t usually…"
"I know. But maybe you aren’t giving him enough credit. He waltzed right into your room after we…"
"Fucked?" he offered.
"It didn’t faze him."
"Anthony was staking his claim," Malice replied.
"No. William was staking his claim when he humiliated me at Eden's Place. You were staking your claim when Hale tried to assault me. Anthony was just…" I thought about what I wanted to say for a moment before continuing. "Anthony was just being there for me. He takes after Vicky in that regard."
Malice cleared his throat. "It’s been a while since Anthony has been there for anyone living. I’m trying to navigate it while running our business and protecting my family. Somehow, you’ve been added to the list of people I now have to protect, and it makes me feel out of control when you pull bullshit stunts like this."
"It’s not bullshit."
"It’s totally bullshit," Anthony called at my back. He was not only carrying my dinosaur laptop, but he’d also pulled all the pictures off the wall of me from high school and was balancing them in his arms. "I want these. I’m taking them."
I shook my head. "I’m not comfortable there. All I can think about is the man I killed and Hale and all the fucking guards patrolling the grounds. I just need some normalcy, okay?"
"Normal is boring," Anthony sang.
"Killers don’t get normal," Malice echoed.
"Fine. But when Grams is back, I’m moving back home. I’m serious. She can’t live alone, Anthony. I love spending time with you—"
"So you admit you love me," he cut me off.
"That’s not what I said."
He tsked. "So you love me. Continue."
"But Grams needs my help. This is temporary. We can be friends, and you’re welcome here anytime you want. But you can’t force me to go along with whatever you say. I’m not scared of you anymore," I lied.
Anthony huffed, Malice looked like he wanted to give me a reason to fear him. "Put her in the trunk," Anthony said in a bored tone.
"Wh-what?" Malice didn’t even stumble. He clicked his keys, and the trunk to his town car popped open. "I’m not getting in that fucking trunk." I eyed it. "There’s a tarp in it. Is this a body trunk? Hell no."
Malice picked me up and effortlessly tossed me into the trunk as if I were a sack of potatoes. I scurried, trying my best to get out of there. Anthony blocked my view. Bending over, he stared at me with his head cocked to the side. "Sometimes, a little fear is good for the soul."
And then, he slammed the trunk shut.
I felt claustrophobic. Every inhale was hot and labored. It was like they purposefully hit every bump possible. I bumped my head on the roof of the car and found myself growing angrier and angrier as we drove.
I also felt this overwhelming sense of betrayal. Anthony was supposed to be on my side. Despite his goals for putting me in the trunk, I didn’t fear him like I should. I pitied him. Why did he feel like he had to go to such extremes? Why was he so scared to lose me?