“I’m here, motherfucker, where you at?” comes from the first floor.
Ice fills my veins and I grow lightheaded, slowly spinning where I stand.
The first thing to come into view is a mess of hair, and then a face wound tight with anger followed by a hoodie as black as night.
Eyes lift, connecting with mine, and shock drains the blood from my face, but the sight before me has nothing on the greeting that follows.
“Hello, brother.”
My hands come up, freezing in the air as I try to work through the warped world I’ve clearly entered.
The one where my man is related to the man I’m supposed to marry.
This can’t possibly be happening...
Ransom, still frozen on the last step of the stairwell, blinks hard. “What the fuck is going on?” he draws slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, but I know he watches his brother from the corner of his eye.
“You tell me,” I manage to rasp, though it doesn’t sound like a question, because Anthony said brother.
Ransom is here.
Anthony is his brother.
Anthony, the guy I’m contracted to marry, is the man who Ransom tried to fight in the club that night because he was blowing their money, money they need for his sister. That’s the familiar scent I recognized, his cologne.
He’s the man who locked his sister away with strangers, their sister, and the person he was on the phone with yesterday was Ransom, threatening his visits with Sienna if he didn’t show up here tonight, at the exact time he planned.
The stroke of fucking midnight, like some twisted fatal princess shit.
This is twisted.
And fatal.
But for who?
Us?
Jesus, which ‘us’?!
My airway begins to close as I stare into the eyes of the only person I’ve ever truly wanted, knowing our relationship, that was condemned at the start, has just met its catapult.
But the real question is, who holds the hammer?
Maybe I was the ultimate pawn, played by not one blue-eyed bastard, but two.
My thoughts must mirror my expression as Ransom breaks from his frozen state.
“Baby, no.” He darts forward, right for me, but Anthony makes a really stupid move, one that goes to show he doesn’t know his brother at all.
He shoves me to the side.
Everything inside me locks, panic curling, pulling at my every nerve, but it has nothing to do with being pushed, and everything to do with what I know, without a doubt, comes next.
Ransom snaps.
He flies forward, grips Anthony by the neck, and kicks his legs from beneath him before he has a chance to blink, let alone fight back.
His skull slams against the hardwood and Ransom comes down on top of him, giving him not a moment to recover, but slamming his fist right into his jaw.
Blood spills from his lips, but Anthony laughs from beneath him, the sound a gargled mess.
“Baby, huh?” Anthony seethes, and he seems to cave, his muscles loosening.
But Ransom must be used to this, because he angles his body and as he does, Anthony’s arms come up under his.
“Fuck you,” Ransom growls, jerking to try to free himself.
With his right foot planted flat on the floor, Anthony lifts his right hip, using the momentum and position to flip them over, but with the way Ransom adjusted, they do a full toddler version of tumbling.
Both break apart for a split second and Anthony reaches up, gripping the glass he was drinking from.
“Ransom watch out!” I scream.
His hand comes up just in time to catch Anthony’s wrist and he slams his forehead into his.
They both manage to scramble to their feet, and this time, Anthony lands a punch across his brother’s face. Ransom’s head jerks to the side on impact, but he comes right back, swinging wildly with both hands, forcing his feet backward until his lower half hits a wooden chest.
“What the fuck is this?!” Ransom shouts. “What did you do?” His eyes slice to mine.
His gaze falls to my dress then, as if he’s only noticed I’m made-up, and his head tips the tiniest bit, small creases forming between his eyes. “Wait... it’s him? He’s the one who—” he cuts himself off, putting the pieces together.
Anthony takes advantage of his distracted state. He lifts his foot, kicking Ransom right in the stomach and he stumbles backward, hits the small table and the case on top of it crashes to the floor.
Hundreds of pearls spill over the floor. They roll in every direction, down the hall and the stairs, over the slatted railing, the hard pings echoing as they bounce along the first floor.
“Fuck,” he ground out. He squeezes his hair with his hands, his eyes clamped shut as he shakes his head, an angry growl slipping past him. “Fuck!”
In that moment, I know the answer to my question.
Anthony Blanca holds all we have in the palm of his hands, and he knows it. He’s known it for a while now, but Ransom had not a clue.
This wasn’t his plan.
I’m not a board piece in a game of Family Feud, at least not where he’s concerned.
My pulse leaps in my chest, deep beneath my ribs. It’s the part of me I swore, time and time again, didn’t work properly, yet I now know the truth.
It didn’t work because it had yet to be charged, but it beats wildly now, aches deeply for the boy in front of me and I don’t even know why.
That might be a lie.
It might be because I’m not sure where we go from here.
Needles prick in my throat and I think I whisper his name, but I can’t be sure as his head never lifts. He doesn’t step from the corner he’s backed himself into.
Anthony coughs, and my eyes fly his way.
He shakes his head, glaring at his brother, a heavy scoff leaving him. “Weak little fucker. Always were. Let me lay this out for you now. Ransom, I will give you the house and the inheritance—”
“Fuck the house, fuck money, and fuck you!” he bellows, swiping a hand across the table and sending everything on top of it crashing to the floor. “She is mine. Try and take her, I fucking dare you.”
I wait for Anthony to shout back, sure that he will, but a foul chuckle is what follows, and somehow, I know it’s worse.
My ribs cave, my stomach hollowing.
“I wasn’t finished.” Anthony cocks his head, and the gambit fucking falls. “But maybe I’ll start backward so you get the full picture.” He grins wickedly. “Jameson will be my wife—”
Ransom scoffs, shaking his head. “Fuck you, she will.”
“And once she is,” he continues as if Ransom never spoke, “I no longer need the rest. The house will be yours, the trust, but most importantly, or so you seem to believe, I will sign complete conservatorship over to you.”
Ransom’s face falls, he turns white, stumbles over his own two feet, and drops against the wall, his back sliding down it until his ass hits the ground.
“There we go, you’re getting it now, though, I admit, I’m a bit surprised by the dramatic reaction.”
“Fuck you,” Ransom breathes. It’s hardly audible, but it’s there.
“It works in my favor though, because now you know. There’s no reason to fight me anymore. You’ll soon have everything you ever wanted.”
It dawns on me, and I don’t realize I’ve whispered her name until Anthony’s scoff reaches me.