Call You Mine (Servite Academy)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

WYNTER

2124173422: 12900 Canyon Drive, Hillcrest Hills, CA 90012. Come fast and come alone. Your boy will reap the consequences if you disobey me, Snow. This ends today, carina. - E

My hands vigorously tremble as I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel of my brother’s car, my knuckles turning white from just how fiercely I’m holding on. If my mouth wasn’t shut so tightly, I’m sure my teeth would be clattering against each other as my nerves rattle my entire being.

Deep breaths, I remind myself, though it's no use. Not when the only thing I can focus on is the image of Damon and the look in his eyes when he discovered the extent of my lies.

Every time I closed my eyes last night, as I lay in my brother’s guest bedroom drowning in my melancholia, trying my hardest to get any semblance of rest, I could see it clear as day. His dark green eyes, ones which used to look at me with adoration and desire, now watched me with a sense of regret and despair. He was hurt. Beyond that, he looked defeated. Like he had been expecting something like this to occur. Something that would impede our being together. Only I know he could have never expected it would be this bad.

Damon was disappointed—in me, in himself for allowing himself to be vulnerable and dragged into something he fought tooth and nail to avoid—a relationship with me.

Some would call me foolish to come here alone. Other’s just plain fucking stupid, but I, I’m looking at this as a show of bravery. It’s not, but maybe if I force myself to believe it, I won’t feel so terrified to walk willingly to my death. I see this as the only way to stand up against those who threaten to hurt me, my family, and those I love and care for. I never knew there were such people. But over these last few months, I realized everything that was missing from my life, all I longed for, I now had. Now, he’d made me lose it.

Entering through the large iron gates of the property, I drive toward the opulent mansion—the sun blinding me as it rises in the sky—surprised to see this is the place he’s asked me to meet him. It hides in plain sight, a new build, or at least newly remodeled—not some dark concealed cave like I was expecting a dead man to be hiding and lurking in the shadows.

Have I truly lost my mind by coming here alone? Definitely, but I can’t allow Enzo to have any more control over my life and everything I do. He pulled the strings for three years, had me forcefully tethered to him, but this ends today. All of this has been such a heavy weight on my shoulders, a wicked presence looming over me, sending me into a wave of panic anytime I allow myself to think too deeply about it, which was not very often. I figure if I pretended everything was good in the world, I’d somehow manifest it.

So, I used Damon as a distraction, to pretend that all was right so long as he was in my life. My protector, even when he was reluctant, even when he did not know what he was saving me from. But Enzo had gone too far. He’d threatened Damon, the one person who meant more to me than anyone else. Threatened to tell him everything, which honestly at this point was pointless for me to prevent, but it was the threat on his life, that he’d hurt him if I didn’t come, or worse, if I told anyone that he’d summoned me to him. I know Enzo well enough not to test his threats or take them lightly. Although, up to this point, he’s done nothing more than harmlessly taunt me.

A dead man walking is just as dangerous as any monster who’s supposed to be lying in a grave.

Then there’s the other thing. Do I know for a fact it’s Enzo and not one of his men or enemies who’ve summoned me here? No, but I’m sure I’ll soon find out. Enzo texted me this morning and said if I wanted this to be over once and for all, to meet him at this address. I panicked, not knowing what else to do, and snuck out of the house when I asked Ace to grab me a few necessities from the drugstore. I hadn’t slept a wink, my fears and worries keeping me up, not to mention I was terribly nauseated.

Yet I’d found myself alone for the first time since I’d arrived the night before. Caeli was still sound asleep at Jade and Sebastian’s house. Scarlett had left earlier with Ruby, I assume to go look for Damon. I’d overheard Ace and Scarlett say they hadn’t heard from him. That, of course, added to my worrying.

Where could he have gone? Why couldn’t they get a hold of him? Was he hiding from me, drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a barrel or bourbon? Or had Enzo gotten to him first?

I couldn’t keep thinning this way. I would completely crumble apart if I let my mind keep wandering off to its darkest corners. It was a curse I had to bear—my pessimistic outlook on life. My mother had once said, the only way to ensure no one disappoints you is to always expect the worst from them.

I took that to heart, and had lived with it as my number one outlook toward life for too long. It had become second nature.

Yet once thought continued to haunt me. What if Enzo’s already gotten to him? I guess there's only one way to find out and there’s no time like the present for it.

I’m not completely selfish—thought some would definitely argue that given my track record. I left Ace a note, not telling him where I was or with who, but letting him know I’d gone of my own free will and it was something I needed to do. He wouldn’t understand, none of them would, but I couldn’t move on with my life if I didn’t deal with the monster who terrorized me for so long and would continue to do so unless I put a stop to it, or he put a stop to me—whichever came first.

Pulling up to the front of the house, I shift the gear into park and turn off the engine. Stepping out, I lock it and tuck the key into the front pocket of my jeans to keep it safe in case I need to make a quick getaway. My legs are trembling just as vigorously as my hands were just a moment ago. My stomach recoils as a wave of nausea hits me, yet I swallow back the acidic bile and force myself to walk toward the steps leading to the front door.

I cradle my stomach in my hands as I step up onto the front porch, hating myself for being so selfish and risking my sweet baby. But we’re dead either way, so at least this is me giving us the best chance I can.

My chest is thundering as my heart beats sporadically when I reach for the handle. It’s open, of course, and like a lamb being led to her slaughter, I follow the trail of red roses that forms a path into the house. The same roses Enzo would buy me every year on our wedding anniversary, or anytime he felt guilty for killing someone because they dared to look my way.

His calloused fingers, wet with blood, caressed me, gently sweeping a tendril of hair off my face as I lay still, pretending I was asleep. His voice was a soft whisper against my temple as he lay a kiss on the top of my head. “Hair white as snow, lips red as the blood I shed for you, carina. Snow, you are as beautiful and delicate as the red roses you love so much.”

Bile rises in my throat as I recall one of my last nights with Enzo in New York, and I have to hack it out on a planter sitting beside the front door on the porch. Wiping my mouth with the back of the sleeve of my brother’s hoodie I threw on over my top before leaving this morning, I push open the door. The hinges creak as I step inside.

The interior, much like the exterior of the home, looks newly remodeled, the scent of fresh paint and brand-new wood flooding my senses as I walk into the foyer. Front and center, there’s a stunning winding staircase with intricate railing leading up to the second floor. An array of chandeliers and light fixtures hang on the ceilings and walls, but other than that, the house is strangely vacant. Come to think of it, it makes sense for it to not look lived in if Enzo’s been hiding out here since my disappearance a mere few months ago.

A wave of terror floods me at the possibility of soon coming face to face with him again. I thought that chapter of my life was done with after his death. That I’d awoken from the nightmare I lived in for years, but now, standing here in this vacant mansion, the walls so bear you can hear the echo of the wind flowing through the space, it's that same fear which comes creeping in like a coat of darkness looming over me, reminding me I’ll never be truly free. Not so long as Enzo’s alive.

Reaching into the front pocket of my brother’s hoodies, I firmly wrap my hand around the gun I took from his safe, my fingers quivering as I hold it tight. I’m not sure what I was thinking as I reached for it, easily breaking into my brother’s safe and deciding I needed to bring it with me. Enzo will surely have me patted down upon arrival. His paranoia always got the best of him, especially since daily he feared for his life or the betrayal of his men. Once, he’d found one of his closest associates wired during one of their weekly meetings. I can still hear the screams the idiot let out as Enzo tortured him for his betrayal before finishing him off with a bullet to his temple.

Point blank, execution style—that was my end goal today. Even if it meant I’d die, I wouldn’t let Enzo get to Damon.

I continue to look around, taking these last few minutes of solitude before I’m met with the man who’s haunted me for the last three years. To my right, I can see an expansive kitchen with bare countertops and a handful of bar stools lined up along the island in the middle of the space. To the left is the living room, strangely empty except for a white sofa sitting in the middle of the room across from an enormous fireplace which is currently burning.

A sudden, ghostly melody comes through the air, playing on what can only be a built-in home surround sound. My heart races at the sudden jolt of panic of the familiar song. A song Enzo would play for me every time he wanted to remind me exactly where I belonged. Without thinking, I follow the sound, walking toward the lit fire, almost as if I’m being pulled in by the sight of the flames flickering inside the old wood-burning fireplace. The way they dance is mesmerizing.

Running my fingers over the sofa, I take in the bright white leather. I’ll admit it’s bold and brave, given his career. Red stains and Enzo sees a lot in his day to day.

Footsteps echo in the distance, but they sound too delicate to be of a man. The heels continue to click against the marble floor, louder and louder as they approach from behind me. I’m afraid to turn, too terrified to discover who it is that’s coming for me, but before I can react, a shadow enters the living room, my body going stiff when a familiar face comes into view.

He waltzes into the room, head held high, a knowing smirk on his face that confuses me. Like he knew I’d be here, which makes no sense unless…

“Hey there Wynnie,” he says, dark green eyes hidden behind the darkening bruise on the apple of his cheek. Beyond that he's impeccably dressed in a dark green suit, his dark hair, shooter than the last time I saw him, neatly combed into place, and the usual black liner he likes to use on his waterline blends into the bruise around his eye.

“Luke,” I mutter under my breath, the sight of him bloody and beaten flashing before my eyes. The photograph from last night, the one Enzo sent me—the reason Carrington came to me angry and in search of her brother. Enzo must be coming after those close to me, and although Luke and I aren’t close in the slightest, he must have figured out Luke was the one who helped me escape.

Though there remains the fact that Luke hadn’t reached out to me since the day I left New York. Not to mention, he looks nothing like a prisoner.

“What are you…” I pause, turning behind me when I feel someone rush past me. All I catch is a glimpse of a black dress flowing out of sight. “Luke, what is this?” I ask, my voice now louder than it was a second ago. Because I’m no longer worried about Luke and the idea that he might have been tortured because of me. No, this is turning out to be much more sinister than anything I could have expected.

Luke continues to walk towards me. With each step closer, my body tenses further. Wrapping my arms over my chest, one hand still on the gun in my pocket, I hold it against me, trying to ensure it remains hidden. I brace myself for whatever he’s about to do, but he surprises me, wrapping his arms around my shoulder and bringing me in for a hug. My body grows rigid, unable to react to his touch, which feels so foreign, so wrong.

His hot breath brushes against my ear as she speaks against me, softly kissing me like it's’ the most casual thing. “My girl, you’ve come home to me. I’ve been waiting for you so patiently, but I couldn’t go another day without seeing you.”

I don’t pull away, unsure how this will play out if I come off defensive. “I don’t understand Luke. What the hell is going on?” What if he’s in on this with Enzo? What if he’s played me all along? Did he know Enzo was alive? Was it part of the plan to “allow” me to escape and make me believe I was free?

Luke pulls away slightly, his gaze falling on me. There’s a glimpse of something in his eyes that I can't quite pinpoint, his pupils an endless void which show no emotion.

“I asked you to come, and you did, Wynnie. You came to me.” His voice is almost unrecognizable. It’s almost as if he’s dissociated from reality. “You left him and you came to me because you knew this is where you belong. You chose me.”

My heartbeat elevates, and my stomach drops as a sense of dread cripples me. “I don’t understand. You’re talking crazy, Luke, and it’s freaking me out. You didn’t text me. I got a text from…” I pause, unable to speak, when realization finally hits me like a sharp dagger to my chest, taking with it all the oxygen from my body. No, no, this can’t be right. I can’t be this fucking foolish. “You,” I mutter, so low I’m not sure he’s heard me. But the wicked grin that appears on his face proves he has, and that I am right.

Luke tucks a tendril of hair that’s come loose from my ponytail behind my ear, “Yes, well I guess I played our little game too well.. Tell me Wynnie, did you honestly believe your dear husband was haunting you from beyond the grave.”

I release my hold on the gun, needing both my hands to push away from him. “What the hell did you do, Luke?”

Luke struts nonchalantly to the edge of the sofa, trailing his fingers along the armrest until he’s standing on the other side, putting the large white sectional between us. “You see, my darling Wynnie, you didn’t kill your husband.” My heart nearly stops. If it weren’t impossible, I’d swear it did, if only for a second. My breathing turns unsteady as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. If I didn’t kill him, then Enzo’s not dead? As if reading my uncertainty, Luke continues. “You fucked him good, I’ll give you that, but Enzo didn’t die like you’d assumed. He was borderline, one foot in hell, yet he was holding on for dear life to the land of the living. But I did us all a favor and gave him the push he needed to join the other side.”

Relief floods me at the truth that not only am I not a murderer, but Enzo is, in fact, dead. Though it’s easily washed away with the uncertainty of what is truly going on here.

Luke continues with his villain monologue, not giving me time to react to what he’s just confessed. “I was initially the one who sent you the text messages when you left New York once I realized you’d ditched my efforts in helping you escape and I realized you’d gone to him.” Damon, that’s who he’s referring to. He knew I went to Damon instead of taking his help and going to that shitty motel he’d gotten me a room at. “Before I left New York, I took Enzo’s phone from his dead corpse and when I canceled his cell service, I could hack the device so the old phone number would only register to you. I couldn’t have any of his associates of the Famiglia finding out it was me who’d put the fucker down.”

But there’s one question that remains… How did he know I was with Damon? I know I wasn’t doing the best job keeping under the radar after coming back home. Especially jumping right into a relationship—fake or otherwise—with him. When Carrington came to me, surprised to see Damon by my side, I knew I hadn’t been as obvious as I’d thought. Luke could have only known if he’d had me followed.

“How did you…?” I say, but he quickly interrupts me, his tone now sharper, like he’s getting annoyed with all my questioning. I don’t think this is playing out the way he had imagined in his mind. Usually, when people are delusional, it never does.

“I knew because I was the one who had you followed last year, straight to his doorstep,” he confesses, and my fear quickly turns to anger. “Enzo was not happy when I told him his wife, his most prized possession, was sneaking into the bed of another.”

“You,” I retort bitterly, “You’re the reason Damon was beaten and almost killed. He was left for dead.”

Luke scoffs, “The asshole survived by some miracle, came back from the land of the dead a richer man too. The fucking bastard. If anything, he should thank me.”

My mind is reeling, nausea making a fast comeback as my stomach grows queasy. Whether it’s my anxiety or my pregnancy, I’m so close to coming apart as my emotions run rampant inside me. “Why?” I croak, my voice breaking as I swallow back the bile that begs to come out.

Luke’s expression softens, a hint of hurt glazing over his eyes. He looks broken. This cruel murderer suddenly looks like I just kicked his puppy or something. In a matter of seconds, he rushes back over to me. Though as I take quick steps backwards to get away, I hit a hard body behind me. I don’t get the chance to look behind me and see who it is, because Luke grabs me, his fingers roughly digging into my shoulders as he hauls me toward him, keeping my gaze on his.

“Because you didn’t want me, Wynter. You never did. I worshiped the ground you walked on. I loved you when everyone hated you, yet you treated me like I meant nothing to you. You ignored me, never even gave us a chance.”

Panic rushes within me at the obsessive look in his eyes. The desire in them as his eyes roam over me, although my body is hidden behind the baggy sweater and jeans, makes me quiver. The hatred that seethes from his lips as he recalls my being with Damon. Luke and I were never anything more than friends, if you could even call us that. He was someone I could pass the time with, someone who listened and paid attention to me when no one else did, so yeah, maybe I unintentionally led him on when we were younger, but it meant nothing. At least not to me.

His gaze suddenly shifts behind me, like he’s staring straight into the eyes of whoever’s standing flush against me. “But I found something better, someone better.”

Just then it hits me—thanks to my suddenly heightened sense of smell—my mother’s perfume. I inwardly cringe at the potent aroma of jasmine and cedarwood, a scent she’s always worn too much of. Her fingers wrap around my neck, pointed claws digging into my skin as she comes around to face me. Luke releases his hold on me and takes a few steps back to make room for her. Then it happens. Bile rises to my throat as I come face to face with my mother for the first time in over a month.

Willa’s eyes throw sharp daggers in my direction and I can’t help question what I ever did to make my mother hate me so much. My heart aches as I recall the few decent memories I have of her from when I was younger. She always resented me as a kid, that I remember clearly. But I truly never judged her for it. She became a mother at eighteen, to two children, neither one of which she wanted.

Her career as a model, the potential of fame and popularity, came crumbling down when she was practically forced into an arranged marriage with a man ten years her senior. As I grew older, her indifference became jealousy. The more people told her how incredibly lucky I’d been to have inherited her genetics only they’d been perfected in me, the more she begrudged me. It was why she got work done and Botox injections at only twenty-five years old. Not only the fear of aging and not looking like the glorious beauty queen she was revered for, but having someone threaten to take her crown was something she could never move past.

When I discovered the truth about my family’s history, how Willa was forced to marry Warren Servite—the man I believed to be my father—only to provide the Servite Dynasty with an heir, I felt sorry for her. Soon after her marriage, Warren couldn’t conceive any children. Instead of taking an alternate route if children were really something they wanted, my mother was forced to conceive a child with Wesley, who, although he was closer to her age, was her husband’s brother—my biological father.

I’d blamed them for creating a monster, for turning the woman who’d birthed, a woman who was supposed to love me and protect me unconditionally, into someone I didn’t recognize. But they weren’t to blame. Because even now that they were both gone, here she stood, doing everything in her power to ruin me.

Tears fall down my cheeks as I stare at her in disbelief. Her long hair, now a short sleek straight bob, frames her face and delicate features. Clear blue eyes that resemble mine yet look hauntingly empty and void of any emotion as she looks at me. A vile smirk teases her red lips as she watches me cry, a triumphant gleam in her eyes when she realizes she’s won. She’s broken me down beyond repair, ruined whatever hope I had left, extinguished the fire that burned within me just a moment ago when I’d first arrived, ready to rain hell on Enzo from threatening the man I love. But her, how am I supposed to stand against her? Despite everything that’s occurred between us, I can’t.

“Why mother?” I croak, my voice breaking as I try to hold back the sobs that ache to be let out. All it does is irritate her further.

Willa scoffs, rolling her eyes as she brushes off my pain. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Wynter. I needed the money. Not everything is about you regardless of what you believe.” Walking around me, she stands beside Luke, wrapping an arm around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

At the sight of them together, I can’t keep the bile down any longer. I crouch forward and hack up yellow bile and a mucus-like substance that only makes me that much more nauseated to see at my feet.

Willa turns, disgusted by what I’ve just done. “Oh God, child. What the hell is wrong with you?” she shouts, when suddenly, it dawns on her and her expression turns completely depraved. “Well, well, this is a surprise.”

Immediately, I know she’s realized I’m pregnant. Not that I’m showing, but the oversized hoodie and vomiting surely give away my current state. Fear cripples me as I feel an oncoming panic attack.

“That’s why he was here, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Last night, Damon came here. He found the card I’d written to you.” She pauses when I look at her, confused, not understanding what she’s talking about. “Of course you didn’t open it.” She sighs in exasperation. “The recent package we sent you—over a month ago, actually—told you everything you needed to know. If you had opened it, you wouldn't look so surprised.”

“Damon knows?”

“Yes. For how long? I’m not sure. He showed up last night looking for answers and we told him everything. The lies, the deceit, everything about your husband and how you killed him before running back into his arms.”

“I didn’t kill Enzo,” I cry out.

“Yeah, well, as far as Damon Drake knows, you did. He told us about your fake arrangement. Your scheming and the relationship you all but forced him into with the excuse of appeasing me. I didn’t really plan on marrying you off. I just needed a Plan B in case the blackmail and extortion of threatening to turn you over for the murder of Enzo didn’t work out the way we’d planned.”

“But how, how did you and Luke have time to come up with this?”

“Oh sweetie, this has been going on long before you even realized it.”

“No,” I refuse to believe it, but her words, the way she says them with such conviction, prove it’s the cold hard truth. “You knew. You knew Enzo was coming for me and you let him take me?”

For a second, I almost catch a flash of guilt in her eyes, but it doesn't last.

My anger burns inside of me, every flame of rage igniting further and raging rampant the more I let the truth sit with me. She was the culprit in all of this. In the three years I spent as his prisoner, forced to do things I wanted no part of, to witness the cruelty and the vileness of his world. “You could have stopped him, mother, could have saved me from the monster, yet instead you let your hatred of me ruin my life.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. You’re foolish to think I had any part in that. I’d be signing my death sentence if I stood in the way of a man with that much power. No one can stop the Marchesis when they put their mind to something. Your father paid the price of thinking he could cross them.”

“We’re just lucky they haven’t discovered what truly happened to Lorenzo Marchesi.” Luke takes my mother’s hand in his and brings it up to his mouth to place a soft kiss, like he didn’t just confess to murder.

The strange thing is she acts like it means nothing to her. It’s obvious she’s only using Luke and doesn’t actually care about it. There is no one in the world Willa Servite cares about except for Willa Servite. And this poor fool is just another pawn in her game.

Ignoring Luke’s tender advances, Willa keeps her focus on me, taking a few steps forward to close the distance between us. She reaches for me, trying to lay a hand on my stomach, but I flinch and pull away, not only because I want her hands nowhere near me or my baby, but also remembering I’m hiding a gun on me.

She laughs, “But you getting pregnant, well that was unexpected.” She sounds almost proud, as if I'd purposely done it to trap Damon. “Tell me, dear, does Damon know? Is that truly why he came to me, to confirm if it is in fact his? I must say, Luke seemed pretty convincing when he told him the tale about the history between the two of you.”

“There is no history.” This angers Luke, but he keeps his composure. “You were no virgin before him, and although I've heard your marriage to Enzo was unconventional, it doesn't mean you’re in any way innocent. Sweetheart, you’ve gone soft hanging around that bunch of heathens and forgotten your previous reputation? Not to mention since Damon has some history of his own, it took little convincing.”

“What are you talking about?”

I jolt in surprise when another set of heels clicks on the floor behind me, causing me to turn abruptly and almost lose my footing. It had been years since I’d seen the woman, but there’s no mistaking who she is. Clarissa O’Neal had been a constant presence in my life growing up. Not that I had any sort of relationship with her, but as one of my mother’s best friends, if you could even call their petty rivalry that.

“Hello Wynter, it’s been awhile.”

Her taunting demeanor aggravates me beyond reason. This is the woman Damon has spent the last three and a half years working for. He’s spent endless hours by her side doing God knows what and her knowing smirk says it all. Jealousy creeps inside me, threatening to make me lose control, but I won’t give her the satisfaction she so desperately craves. She twirls the ends of a strand of her bleached blonde hair, as she looks me up and down, her distaste of my current state obvious as she clicks her tongue.

“Nope, I don’t see it.”

“See what?”

“What my Draco sees in you. You’re nothing special. Sure you’re beautiful, but with the right amount of money and incredible surgeons, anyone can achieve that.”

“Is that what you were going for?” I spit out, allowing the jealous bitch inside me to take her shot. “Tell me, what is it you lacked? The money, or the surgeon?” Luke lets out a sharp chuckle, and it only irritates Clarissa more than she already was.

I bite my tongue to hold back what I really want to say, knowing I’m the one that’s in danger here. If I say the wrong thing and piss her off, who knows what the bitch is capable of?

“Damon came to me a few weeks ago. I assumed you two had an argument of sorts if he came to find consolation in my arms. He paused our arrangement, one that began the day he started working for me and continued till the day you came back into town.”

“What are you talking about? What arrangement?”

“Sit down, you might need to for this.” Clarissa moves around the room, the tail of her black gown trailing behind her as she walks over to sit on the couch beside where my mother and Luke have now gone. The three of them sit before me, glaring at me with the same expression. One of hatred yet a knowingness that they’re the ones who hold the power right now. “From the beginning,” Clarissa continues. “The moment Damon began working for me at Kingsman, he and I formed a relationship of sorts. Strictly sexual, we fulfilled each other's wants and needs, so to speak. His need for dominance and control, my need to be dominated and desired. There were no feelings or any of that other bullshit he swore he’d never allow himself to feel, regardless it was something special, something we both cherished.” Her wicked smirk turns angry. “Until you came back.”

I can’t breathe. Clarissa’s lies ring too close to the truth for me to ignore, yet everything inside of me is telling me not to believe it. Damon wouldn’t be capable of having any sort of relationship with this woman. She’s everything he hates about this world—fake, pretentious, manipulative. A man like him would never be involved with a woman like her. He couldn’t be, because that would mean that Clarissa knew the truth about him and the demons that lurk in the shadows of his mind. And I can't deal with someone knowing him the way I do.

Though if what she’s saying is true, then Clarissa began this so-called arrangement with Damon when he was just eighteen, and with her being at least eighteen years older than him, everything about it just seems so sick. She took advantage of the broken boy who needed to lose himself in whatever twisted arrangement she coerced him into. And that’s a kind of monster unlike any other I’ve ever come across.

“You’re lying!” I shout, tucking my hand back into the pocket of my sweater and pulling it out to aim at her. Their eyes go wide, neither one of them expecting this, though Clarissa quickly brushes off the shock. She tries to play nonchalant, standing up as she catches my hand waver slightly. Willa joins her, the two of them not thinking me capable, and frankly, I wouldn’t blame them. I’m as surprised as they are to be holding the gun up at them, but they’ve pushed me too far. The three of them schemed to ruin my life, to destroy me and everything I care about. I can’t allow them to get away with him.

Now that I know for a fact Enzo is not a threat, there is no fear stopping me from protecting those I love. Protecting my brother and his family from the monster my mother has become. Protecting Damon from this vile woman who preyed on his weaknesses and his need to be seen. To protect my unborn baby from any further hurt from them.

Luke is the only smart one who stays put, his gaze flicking back between the gun in my hand and the two women beside him. He looks as if he’s ready to run and I wouldn’t put it past the coward to try to. I won’t go after him. He’s a pawn in all of this, just like the rest of us. Willa and Clarissa are the ones that need to pay each for their own part in coming between Damon and I.

I take two steps forward, the gun now steady in my hand as I keep my arm extended toward them. They don’t move or say anything. All they do is stare at me with knowing glances, testing my resolve and how committed I am to seeing this through.

I don’t know if I can go through with it—to end someone’s life like this. But I lived the last months believing I’d done it to Enzo, and I’d survived. Just like him, they deserved it. That was justification enough for me. For playing with my life and my feelings like it was meaningless.

Suddenly, the front door is thrown open, jolting me and making me drop the gun from my hands. Damon pushes through, his gaze immediately finding mine as a look of relief flashes in his eyes. His whole body relaxes the moment he finds me unharmed, but it quickly shifts when he looks down at the gun that’s fallen to the floor and then back at the three who stand behind me. Though they don’t seem equally shocked. Willa looks almost expectant, like she knew he’d come..

Damon is jolted forward as Ace comes in rushing behind him, but my brother freezes the moment he looks at me. From the corner of my eye, I catch Luke sprint off toward the back of the house, rushing out a door that leads to the backyard. Damon’s eyes follow him, but Ace is the first to move. “I’ve got him. You stay with my sister,” he says as he rushes past us and toward where Luke ran off.

I take a few steps forward, unable to speak as my eyes remain glued to Damon’s. He came for me. Despite everything Willa and Clarissa said, despite what Luke tried to fool him into believing, Damon came for me. Without a word, he rushes to my side and closes the space between us, the agony in his gaze so intense it immediately makes me sob. His hands run rampant over my body as if trying to find any injuries, before tenderly cradling my face in his palms.

Rough fingers hold me close, caressing me like I’m the most precious thing to him. I can’t hold back any longer and I let out a sharp breath between sobs, unable to control it. Despite everything that’s occurred in the last six hours, this feels different. “I’m fine, Damon,” I whisper and immediately feel him relax. He leans forward, inhaling into my hair as he kisses me.

“Baby. I…” his words fail him. The guilt in his eyes reflects the same agony in mine at the way things have turned out.

“Well, if this isn’t just precious,” Willa mocks, and when I look back at her, I find she’s picked the gun up off the floor and is pointing it directly towards us. The hatred in her stare is so palpable it’s not shocking that she’s willing to go to these extents. Beside her, Clarissa scowls. Her jealousy is clear in the way she watches Damon’s worried expression, and the way he’s holding onto me like I might disappear again if he lets go.

Whatever they tried to make Damon believe about me didn’t work. He’s here, he came here for me, to save me, to be with me—with us.

“This isn’t the way I wanted things to end my darling daughter.”

“You can’t say that as you're holding a gun to my head and expect me to believe it, mother.”

“You should have just given me the money when I asked you to. You should have listened to me and all of this wouldn’t have ever happened.”

“Fuck you, you lying bitch,” Damon shouts, tucking me behind his body to block me as he stands in front of me, the gun now pointed at him. “I gave you the money and yet here you are after I explicitly threatened you if you ever came back. Turns out you never left.”

Willa’s anger rises and she walks toward us, her hand not wavering as the gun remains pointed at us. Behind her Clarissa cowers down, unsure of what their next move is, only confirming they weren’t expecting Damon to show up regardless of what Willa’s trying to make us believe.

She raises the gun toward Damon, her finger terrifyingly steady on the trigger as her gaze turns wicked. I clutch his hand in mine and my breath hitches, fear paralyzing me as I stare at the woman who raised me, holding a gun to the temple of the man I love. “You think that was enough?” she scoffs, her tone mocking. “A mere twenty million was going to send me packing. My dear daughter will inherit five hundred million dollars and you expect me to be content with a measly twenty?” A sharp, sinister chuckle leaves her, as if his insinuation is so absurd. Damon trying to pay her off is news to me. “It's so blatantly obvious that you're new to this lifestyle. You may be a millionaire, but you don’t know the first thing about this kind of wealth.”

“I know enough to understand no amount of money will ever be enough for a greedy bitch like you.”

Her free hand comes up to his face, her nails trailing over his cheek, slowly descending until she grasps his jaw in her hand. “You’re right, which means I need something else to quench my thirst.” This is it. Damon should take advantage of her distraction and take the gun from her, though I know he wouldn’t risk it. Her eyes roam over him, a disgusting want gleaming in them as she licks her lips. “I’m sure you will do just fine, if not only to prove to my dear daughter that mommy will always get what she wants. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time a suitor of hers has made the switch, though he turned out to be a foolish coward who is going to end up dead, or worse.”

“I’ll be dead before I allow you anywhere near me or my girlfriend.”

“Future mother of your spawn, if I’m not mistaken. You know, I was furious when I first figured it out. As you can see, I'm in no position to be a grandmother at this age. Now, it’s nothing, but a tragedy given there’s no world in which I would let her get away with being happy. Not when I’m in this current dilemma because of her selfishness.” Her gaze turns to me. “You should have just given me the money when I asked you too, you dumb girl. Now, the three of you will pay for it.”

“Willa,” Clarissa shouts nervously, “The alarms, there is someone else on the property.”

Without warning, a loud explosion rings as the front door is blown open, making me jolt forward from the blast. Damon turns us just before we hit the floor so that I land on top of him, my mother falling back beside her as the gun falls out of her hand. From the corner of my eye, I see Clarissa take off toward the back of the house, the same way Luke ran out.

My gaze goes hazy, my stomach churning as Damon releases me enough to reach for the gun, but he’s too far. Climbing over him, I crawl toward it at the same time her gaze connects with mine.

I beat her to it, but she pushes me down, straddling me as we fight for control of it.

It all happens so fast, I’m not sure what comes first. Damon screams as loud footsteps march toward us, six armed officers dressed in full tactical gear barreling in through the front doors of the mansion. I use Willa’s distraction to gain control, and with my finger on the trigger of the gun pointed directly at my mother, I fire it.

BANG!

In the blink of an eye, everything goes black.