Feathers and Thorne Series Books 1 - 3: The Complete Collection

Chapter Thirty-One

Carter

I pry one eye open, the banging in the back of my skull still continuing. When I peel myself away from Isabella, who makes a low whimpering noise in the back of her throat, I force my other eye open. Then I realize that the banging isn’t in my head.

It’s coming from somewhere in the house.

With a growl, I pick my shorts up off the floor, tug them on, and take the stairs two at a time. Tristan barely has time to react before I grab him by the scruff of his neck and yank him inside. Frowning, I keep my grip around his neck, even as my cousin squirms and tries to push me off him. But we both know I’m stronger and a lot more capable than he is.

“You better have a damn good reason for waking me up,” I say, pausing to pull him closer so my bare teeth are inches away from his gaze. “I’m fucking waiting.”

“Loosen your grip first,” Tristan replies with a pointed look. “That’s no way to treat family.”

I growl and give Tristan a firm shake. “If you want a warm greeting, that can be fucking arranged.”

Tristan holds both hands up. “Jesus, what’s got you so on edge? I thought you’d be happy to have Isabella back.”

I shove Tristan away and run a hand over my face. “You need to learn to mind your own fucking business. Not everything has to be up for discussion.”

Or subject to every prying eye and busybody in the family.

Especially not Tristan, of all people.

Because I still haven’t forgotten what he almost cost me.

Sometimes, when I look at him, I can still see Isabella’s face, contorted in fear and worry. Then I see her ripped clothes and staunch refusal to turn on Tristan, the man who put her in harm’s way to begin with. With a slight shake of my head, I fold my arms over my bare chest and give Tristan an angry look. He draws himself up to his full height and clears his throat.

I half-expect him to pull his phone out and show me Lilian’s damn article.

The one that has me more rattled than I’d like to admit.

“I wanted to confirm the news myself before I came to you,” Tristan begins in a strange voice. “The Natoris and Philipses have banned together.”

“I know that already. Talk faster, or I’m going to have one less cousin in the family.”

Tristian frowns. “I’m getting to that. I’ve had a few guys keep their noses pressed to the ground. They’re not making it a secret that they’re working together, and they’re throwing the full force of their support behind the mayor.”

I let my arms fall to my sides, and I clench them into fists. “We already suspected as much. Again, this better not be why you woke me up.”

Or Tristan is going to go home to Sam with a lot more than a black eye.

“They’re opening up businesses on every block,” Tristan continues as if he hasn’t heard me. “Everywhere that you have a gambling hall or a club, or any business that’s a front for guns or drugs, they’re opening up the exact same thing across the street, only bigger and flashier.”

I dig my nails into my palms. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Tristan takes a step forward and gives me a solemn look. “They’re trying to move in on our turf, Carter. I saw the signs, and I did some digging.”

I spin around, pick up the item closest to me, and hurl it with all my might. The flowers fall into a watery puddle on the floor, and the vase crashes against the wall opposite me, sending shards of glass in every direction. I pick up another item, an empty bowl with some kind of sickly sweet-smelling stuff, and throw it as well, but it misses the wall by a few inches.

“They knew exactly what they were doing when they chose those spots.” I spin around to face Tristan and try to think past the roaring in my ears and the tight knots in my stomach. “This is a challenge. They think that because they’re in with the mayor, they can pull shit like this, and no one is going to stop them.”

Tristan blows out a breath. “We can’t go after them. We don’t have those kinds of resources, and you know it.”

I give Tristan a menacing look. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

“I know, but I’m telling you anyway, and you can snap at me if you want. Hell, you can even take a swing or two if it’ll make you feel better, but when you’re done, we need to figure out a plan.”

As far as I’m concerned, there isn’t going to be a plan.

First, the Natoris came after me at the mayor’s party, then they kidnapped Isabella to get back at me, and now they’re targeting my businesses. If it weren’t for the mess with the rest of the family, I’d already be out the door and on the hunt for blood. Unfortunately, because of my strenuous position as the head of the Blackthorne family, I know I need to think this through.

No matter how much the rage is telling me otherwise.

I can already see myself dragging all of them out, one by one, and taking them somewhere remote to teach them a lesson. I want to drag it out, make them suffer, and toy with them a little first.

Fuck me.

It’s like they have a spy in our midst, feeding information to their unholy alliance and letting them know the worst moments to strike.

Both families are out for my blood, and I’ll be damned if I let them get a whiff of me or anyone else I care about.

And if it means having to wage war against them, so be it.

“We need to call a family meeting,” I realize darkly. “There’s only one thing we can do.”

The Natoris and Philipses have no idea what they’ve walked into, and I have every intention of making sure they have firsthand experience of what it’s like to cross a Blackthorne.

No matter what it costs me.

***

Isabella

Anita points the spatula at me and pauses to retie the apron around her waist. “Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat? You’re looking a little pale.”

I shake my head and offer her a small smile. “I’m okay. I’m not really hungry.”

Anita grunts and pulls her spatula back. She reaches for the pan on the stove and pushes the eggs around. “I can’t blame you. Hunkering down for long periods of time will do that to a person.”

It had been days since Carter received news of the invasion.

Days since he woke me up and instructed me to pack a bag before whisking me away to his aunt’s. Since then, it’s been a steady stream of people coming in and out of the Blackthorne mansion, many of whom I recognized as Carter’s relatives, a few I didn’t. All of them, without fail, wore identical grim expressions and acted like soldiers preparing for a big battle.

In a way, I suppose they were.

Carter isn’t going to let what they’re doing go, even if it means having to call in every favor and pour all his time and focus into bringing the rival families down.

Crossing him once was a mistake he hasn’t overlooked.

Coming after him a second time is borderline suicide, and I know for a fact that Carter has spent the past few days dreaming about ways to make them pay. While seeing the violent and volatile side of Carter still makes me uneasy, I know it comes with the territory.

I’ve always known.

Still, it doesn’t stop a shiver from racing up my spine when the door to the dining room opens, and I catch a glimpse of Carter at the head of the table, his arms on either side of him, and a look of cold and calculating fury on his face. Everyone gathered around the table looks uneasy, like Carter is a volcano about to erupt, capable of destroying everyone in his wake.

When Tristan comes out of the room, I snap to attention and try to hold his gaze. He brushes past me on his way into the living room and stops in front of Sam. She is sitting on the couch in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, with her hair piled on top of her head and a book in her lap. Tristan bends down to scoop up the book and gives Sam a sweet smile.

Sam gives him a smile in return, which makes some of the knots in my stomach unfurl.

Over the past few days, Sam and I haven’t spoken much, and I’ve barely seen her because she’s been sequestered somewhere in the house with Tristan, but on the rare occasions when I do see her, I’m relieved. She looks far happier than I’ve ever seen her, and she and Tristan have a certain ease around each other, the kind I recognize all too well.

She’s falling hard for Carter’s cousin, and I don’t have the heart to tell her to get herself out.

Not that I think it’s going to do her any good.

I can tell by the tender way Tristan brushes his hand against hers that it’s too late. She laces her fingers through his, and the look on her face makes me unable to look away. A moment later, Tristan hands her the book back and presses a kiss to her forehead. Then he saunters off, and Sam follows him with her eyes. When she twists her head to the side, and our gazes meet, I know I should be embarrassed that I got caught watching them.

But I can’t help myself.

It warms my heart to know that something beautiful and warm can grow in the middle of all this chaos.

Sam snaps her book shut and wanders over to us. “Anita, can I help you with anything?”

Anita is standing near the stove, chopping up some vegetables. “I’m fine, dear. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?”

“You have a beautiful home,” Sam offers before coming to a stop on the other side of the counter. “Tristan told me about it, but I had no idea it would look like this.”

Antia offers Sam a smile over her shoulders. “You’re welcome to come by any time.”

Sam averts her gaze and glances over at me. Guilt flashes across her face as she shoves both hands into the pockets of her shorts. “Tristan told me about what happened at the hospital. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

I nod. “It’s a good thing Rich was there when he was.”

Sam searches my face. “Yeah, I guess so, but it’s still a lot to handle. You’ve been through a lot of shit lately, Isabella.”

And as usual, Sam can’t understand why I’m putting myself through this because of Carter.

I don’t want to keep explaining us to her, not if she’s determined to misunderstand.

Anita says something, and Sam leans over the counter to hear her better. I catch a glimpse of her smooth, unblemished back, and I breathe a sigh of relief. When Sam follows my gaze and sees where I’m looking, she leans away and stands up straighter.

“Tristan isn’t like that,” Sam says without looking at me. “He doesn’t play mind games, and he wouldn’t ever hurt me like that.”

I swallow. “I know this is hard for you to understand, but it’s not like that between Carter and me either. He really does love me, and I love him.”

“I know you think you do—”

“I do,” I interrupt, with a little more force than necessary. “Every couple has a different dynamic.”

A part of me is glad her relationship with Tristan is a lot more normal and a lot less topsy-turvy, but the other part of me can’t help but feel isolated. She’s only been in his orbit for a few weeks, and she already seems much healthier and happier without any of the bullshit I had to endure.

And none of the scars that I carry as a reminder of what we’ve been through.

The other part of me is shocked to realize I’m jealous.

Sam deserves to be happy, but I can’t help but wonder why the universe is rewarding her and punishing me. A year ago, before my life turned into a battlefield, and I didn’t have the messy and complicated but incredible love of a man like Carter, I had no idea what I was supposed to do with my life.

Or who I was supposed to be.

I know that without Carter, I would’ve slaved away as Jacob Lacey’s receptionist, dreaming of a better life for myself as I struggled to support my father. Now, I have everything I can ever want but no freedom to enjoy it. Even the thought of going outside makes me uneasy, given the number of near misses—and not-so-near misses—I’ve experienced lately.

At least in my previous life, I wasn’t kept in a gilded cage.

Sam sighs. “I’m sorry I said that. That was out of line. I know that Carter loves you. I guess I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all.”

I clear my throat. “I know. Look, things with Carter and I haven’t always been good, but it’s different now.”

Because we understand each other and have walked through fire for each other.

There is very little Carter wouldn’t do for me.

And I won’t ever stop defending him or trying to see the best in him.

We’re a perfect match in that way.

Sam’s hand darts out, and it settles on my shoulders. “Why don’t we sit down and watch something in the living room? I think they’re going to be a while.”

I look from her hand to her face, trying to gauge her sincerity. “Sure.”

Slowly, Sam withdraws her hand and offers Anita another uncertain smile. Then she leads the way to the living room, taking up her previous spot on the brown leather couch. I sit down next to her, leaving a wide berth of space between us. When I tuck my legs underneath me, Sam pats the couch for the remote and fishes it out from between the cushions. The TV above the fireplace mantlepiece blares to life, and she hastily presses down on the volume button.

“Sorry, I’m still learning how things work around here,” Sam mutters, mostly to herself. With a grunt, she presses another button, and it launches a streaming app. “There we go. What do you feel like watching?”

I twist to face Sam and shrug. “Whatever you want.”

Something glistens on her finger, and my hand darts down, spotting the ring on her index finger that catches the light and gives off an array of colors. Sam shifts and leans forward, and it’s only then that I realize why she looks different. When I met her, Sam was struggling to make ends meet like me, and everything from the way she dressed to the way she looked reflected that.

Now, she looks every inch the part of Tristan’s girlfriend with her designer clothes, manicured nails, and expensive-looking jewelry. With a frown, I turn away from her and fix my gaze on the TV, trying to understand the story unfolding before me. Unfortunately, the harder I try to keep my attention focused on the present, the more my mind wanders.

Suddenly, I wonder how different my life would’ve been if I’d rejected Carter’s advances.

Would I be happier?

Safer?

I know that I’ve never felt more loved, and it’s nice not to have the crushing weight of hospital bills on my shoulders, but I’m also painfully aware of what I’ve had to give up in order to get here.

And sometimes, it leaves me with a bad taste in the back of my mouth.

Halfway through the movie, unable to bear the viciousness of the voice in my head, I get up and wander over to the kitchen. After pouring myself a generous amount of iced tea, I eye Sam over the rim, and she looks happy and in her element. I finish the rest of my drink and rinse my glass before setting it on the counter to dry. A short while later, the door to the dining room bursts open, and Carter steps out, a few men following in his wake.

He doesn’t look at me as he yanks the front door open and steps out.

A few of the Blackthorne men stay behind, including Tristan. I run to the window, push the curtain aside, and study Carter, an intimidating figure with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his button-down shirt tucked into a pair of trousers. He spins around to face his men, and our eyes collide.

For a while, he holds my gaze, but I see nothing of the man I love.

All too soon, he wheels around and gets into the back of Ernesto’s SUV. When it peels away from the asphalt, I let the curtain slide back into place and take a step back. I keep walking backward until my back hits the wall. My pulse is a low thrumming in my veins, and I feel the restlessness rise within me.

Like I’m some kind of caged animal desperate to gnaw off her own leg.

Without pausing to give it any more thought, I turn around, and after making sure no one is looking at me, I take the stairs to the basement two at a time. Once I reach the bottom, I flick the lights on. There are a few cobwebs in the corner and a damp smell that makes my stomach roll, but otherwise, the place is empty… abandoned. I shove my hands into my pockets and plunge further into the basement until I reach the back door I discovered months ago when I was left to my own devices.

A hand touches my back, and I scream and throw my head backward.

Sam’s muffled grunt brings me back to the present with a jolt, and my heart is racing unsteadily when I wheel around to face her. “What are you doing? You scared the shit out of me.”

“I saw you sneak down here.” Sam touches the bridge of her nose and winces. “I think you might have bruised my nose, but at least it’s not broken.”

I grimace. “I’m sorry. With everything that’s been happening lately… you startled me.”

Sam gingerly runs a hand over her face. “In retrospect, I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. Sorry, I startled you.”

I clear my throat. “It’s okay.”

Sam reaches into her pocket and pulls out a set of keys with a pink ball attached to them. “My car is parked around the back. I think you’re going to need it.”

I pause a little longer than necessary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve got the same look on your face that I used to get when I first met you,” Sam whispers without looking at me. “I remember thinking that I wish someone would tell you that you can leave.”

I stiffen. “I’m not trying to leave.”

“Not forever,” Sam adds hastily. “Just for some fresh air and to get your bearings. I know that being cooped up can take its toll.”

“It can,” I agree after a lengthy pause. “But I also know that Carter will lose his mind if I sneak out again, and I don’t know how safe it is.”

“What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Sam tells me, her gaze finally flicking over to mine. “I’ll cover for you. Just use the car to take you wherever you want to go and don’t be gone for too long.”

My hand darts out, and I pause halfway. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

“Not if they don’t know it was me.” Sam’s lips lift into a half smile. “Go before I change my mind.”

I throw my arms around her and squeeze, the smell of freesias wafting up my nostrils. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to be a bad friend,” Sam whispers before releasing me. “I’m doing the best I can here.”

“We both are.” I take the keys from her outstretched hand and wrench the door open. “I’ll be back soon.”

Without looking back, I dart into the backyard, pressing my body to the fence as I do. True to her word, I spot Sam through the windows. She walks over to Tristan, who is closer to the window, and drapes an arm over his shoulders. She steers him away from me, and I can hear her voice spill out. A moment later, I dart across the yard and onto the neighbor’s lush green lawn. When I’m sure no one has noticed I’m gone, I circle to the back of the house, where Sam’s car is waiting.

The grey Mustang purrs to life when I turn the keys in the ignition.

I pick up a pair of Sam’s sunglasses and a scarf, and I throw it over my head. Then, I hunch down in my seat and take the familiar route away from the suburbs and toward the city. Cars and people rush past me in both directions. My phone feels heavy in my purse, and I keep glancing at it, half-expecting Carter to find a way to climb out of it and into the car.

Before I know it, I’m pulling into the hospital parking lot, a sleek grey building that I know far too well by now. I back into a spot, kill the engine, and hurry out. My movements are slow and jerky, each step filled with more guilt than the last. Once the double doors spring open, the smell of disinfectant hits me first, followed quickly by the overpowering stench of sweat and an underlying metallic odor that immediately makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

My shoes squeak loudly against the linoleum floors.

No one looks at me as I drift past, like a ghost, and make a beeline for the elevators. On the fourth floor, the elevator doors ping open, and I spill out, making my way down the familiar blue hallway. Nurses and doctors rush past me, their faces tight with concern. When I reach my father’s room, I’m surprised to see a large woman there, pulling a sheet over the mattress and humming to herself. With a frown, I step back and glance at the numbered plaque outside the door.

She fluffs up the pillow, straightens her back, and makes a low, startled noise when she sees me. Hastily, she yanks her earphones out and smooths out the edges of her pink shirt. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, I must have the wrong room. I guess you guys moved him or something. I’m looking for my father—Alan Julius. Do you know where he is?”

The woman shifts from one foot to the other. “Ms. Julus, they were trying to get a hold of you. Why don’t I go get a doctor?”

She tries to scurry past me, but I block the exit and draw myself up to my full height. “Why don’t you just tell me where he is? You’re already here, and I really can’t stay long.”

Her eyes dart back and forth listlessly. “Ms. Julis, I really can’t—”

“Look, I know you’re trying to do your job, but you have no idea what I’ve been through the past few months. I really need to see my father, please.”

I’m ashamed that my voice cracks a little toward the end.

But I’m desperate for some normalcy, for some semblance of my previous life.

The woman softens and leads me to the bed. She gives me an apologetic smile. “I’ll be right back with the doctor.”

I’m looking out the window when a young-looking doctor with blonde hair comes in. He tucks a clipboard underneath his arm and clears his throat. “Ms. Julus, we did try to get a hold of you, but we couldn’t. Why don’t you sit down?”

I wrench my gaze away from the park across the street. “I’d rather stand.”

He clasps his hands behind his back. “Ms. Julus, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but your father passed away earlier this morning.”

The doctor says something else, but I can’t hear him.

It feels like I’m underwater, and the world is spinning wildly out of focus. I take a step back, making a low noise that I don’t recognize as the ground rises up to meet me.

I lose consciousness when my head hits the cold, hard floor.