Chaotic (L.O.R.D.S. #7) — Chapter no 8

EIGHT

EV ERETT

hen you spend most of your life in total isola tion, you start toW see things that aren’t there. I wasn’t allowed to have friends or go to school. I didn’t need to have a brain. That would lead to me having ideas and opinions, and no Lord wants that from a woman.

I was eight years old when I started seeing my make-believe friend. I knew she wasn’t real, but I didn’t care. She didn’t speak to me at first, but her pres ence was enough. She wasn’t beaten or raped. She was different, a figment of my imagination.

She was who I wished I was—a kid who got to have a life. Who al‐ ways had her hair done and got to wear cute outfits.

I was lonely, and she was there for me, al ways hover ing in the cor‐ ner, willing to listen to me talk or cry. I told her everything. Who the fuck was she going to tell? No one else could see her.

Eleven years old It’s one of those rare days when I get to walk the halls. My father didn’t lock me in my room, and I’m taking full advantage of it. I push open the door to the staircase and start to walk up them. I like to go to the upper level and look out the window.

Getting to the top floor, I push open the door to the large room. It’s got an entire wall of windows. I make my way over to them and place my hands on the glass, staring out.

This is the best view in the whole place. It makes me think that there is some thing other than this hell. I can see for miles. So many trees, nothing but woods. It’s the prettiest when it’s winter time and covered in snow. If I look closely, I can see animal tracks.

But it’s currently sum mer time. The sun is out, and everything is green. No clouds to be seen.

The glass is warm on my fingers, and I press my fore head to it.

Closing my eyes, I imag ine what it’d be like to go out side and breathe fresh air. It’s not allowed. I’m not sure why. Where would I go? What would I do?

A sound has me spinning around, expecting my father to be stand‐ ing there, but he’s not. It’s my imaginary friend. She comes and goes. Sometimes I dream of her. And we’re playing tag out side. Or having a tea party. I’ve never gotten to have one of those.

“Hi.” I smile at her. I love it when she visits me.

The first time I saw her, my father’s friend called me crazy and said I needed pro fes sional help. Thank fully, my father blew her off, and I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut about what I see.

To my surprise, she steps forward and smiles at me. She’s al ways pre tending I don’t exist, and that’s okay. Her pres ence is enough.

“Want to play with me?” the girl asks.

“Yeah,” I answer with out hesita tion. Unable to contain my excite‐ ment, I smile so wide my cheeks hurt. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go downstairs,” she suggests.

My face falls. “I’m not allowed to go down there,” I tell her sadly. I knew it was too good to be true. “I’ll get in trouble.”

She tilts her head to the side. Her long blond hair is in two braids that hang down her shoulders and chest, only stopping at her stom‐ ach. So pretty.

I wish mine looked like hers. I only get to wash mine twice a week.

It re mains dirty and short. Pieces are always breaking off, and my fa‐ ther said it needs to be cut.

Her vibrant eyes glance at my clothes, and her lips pull back with disgust. I wrap my arms around myself, instantly inse cure. “Why are you dressed like that?” she asks.

“It’s what my father laid out for me today.” I don’t get to choose

what I wear.

“Why?”

I shrug. “It’s what he likes me to wear.” It’s as simple as that. I’ve never questioned it. At least I get to wear clothes today.

qgy “Come on.” She waves her arm and turns toward the door.

I stay where I’m at, with my arms folded across my chest, biting my lip ner vously. “I shouldn’t…”

She rolls her eyes. “No one will see you. It’ll be fun. Come on.”

Fun? I’ve never had fun. “Some one is al ways watching,” I decide to say. It’s not worth getting beaten over. Especially since she’s not even real. Turning my back to the window, I hear the door open,

and I know she’s left me.

“Talk ing to your self again?”

I spin back around to see that my father has entered and my imagi‐ nary friend is long gone. Poof. Like magic. Be cause she doesn’t exist.

My father isn’t alone. He has that same woman with him. The brunette who’s always dressed in a tight-fitting dress and heels.

“Did you ever get her—”

“Don’t start,” he interrupts her.

“Se riously.” She places her hands on her narrow hips. “The girl could be a danger to herself. I have someone she can talk to.”

“I already know who you’re going to suggest, so save it.” He places his attention on me and orders, “Get back to your room.”

My shoulders drop, and I let out a long breath. “Yes, sir,” I say through the knot forming in my throat as I pass by him and through the door.

I decide to take the stairs because the ele vator will be too quick. I hate my room. It’s too quiet.

Pushing open the door on my level, I step into the hall and come to a stop. The girl stands out side my door, staring at me with a blank look on her face. “Maybe next time, we can play,” I tell her, but just like all the other times, she ignores me.

En tering my room, I climb onto the bed and curl up into a ball. I have a bathroom, but there are no mirrors. There are no towels or toilet paper. My father brings those things in when he decides I need to bathe or use the re stroom.

I’m a prisoner here. The worst part is I hate being alone. I just wish there was some one for me to talk to. Someone to play with. I

just want to be seen and heard.

KASHTON

Twelve years old I sit on the concrete floor with my legs crossed. It’s late. The sun will be up soon, and I’ll have to go home, but I needed to see her.

To see how she’s doing.

“I brought you some milk,” I tell her. This time I came pre pared.

She sits in the corner with her knees pulled to her chest. She rests her head on them, and her matted dark hair covers her face.

I turn the plate long ways to slide it through the bars and set it on the floor as close to them as I can. Then take the cup of milk and pour it onto the ceramic dish.

“I had to pour it onto a plate, but I got you a straw.” I pull it out of my pocket. “Sorry, I must have smashed it,” I say, trying to straighten it out.

“You shouldn’t be down here,” she whispers.

I wrap my fingers around the cold bars and press my face to it, smash ing my cheeks. I’m thankful she’s not dead. I’ve been here for several minutes, and she hasn’t moved. I can’t even hear her breathing. “I wanted to see you.”

She looks up, and I smile at her. Slowly, she gets to her hands and knees, and I hold my breath while she crawls across the concrete floor. When she gets to the plate, her shaking hands pick it up, and some spills over the edge before she can get it to her cracked lips.

She tilts the plate and drinks the milk, spilling more on her naked body than she actu ally swallows. Once done, she gasps and pushes it back under the bottom bar. “Thank you.”

I feel bad that I didn’t bring her more. Silence falls over us, and my eyes scan the cell, not wanting to leave her yet. “What are all the lines?”

She looks over her shoulder and answers, “Those are tallies.”

“What are they for?” I inquire.

“I make one every time I think of you,” she tells me.

My wide eyes meet hers. “That’s…a lot.”

“You’re always on my mind, Kashton.”

I’m lying on my stomach, butt-ass naked, in my bedroom at Car‐ nage. The curtains are pulled closed, and the covers are shoved to the foot of the bed. My TV is on some random channel. I’m trying to

go back to sleep after I had to crawl out of bed to piss an hour ago.

I’m tired and hun gover.

So much has happened in the past few weeks, and I’m still trying to com pre hend what I refuse to believe. Adam is gone. Again. Dead to the world, but not re ally. He faked his death. Haidyn is mar ried, and his wife is expecting triplets, and the woman of my dreams has been right here under my nose for God knows how long. And she’s possi bly a trained assassin.

Since I started following her, I haven’t seen her with another man.

Not one she hasn’t killed, anyway.

If she’s in a re la tionship, it doesn’t make a difference. If I even think there’s some one in her life, they’re dead. My fu ture wife can’t have someone on the side. All she’ll ever need is me.

And then there’s Sin. I’ve ru ined my re la tionship with him, and he’ll probably never speak to me again. I get that. I fucked up.

On days like this, I just want to stay in bed and do nothing.

The lock on my door clicks, and I groan at being bothered. It’s ei‐ ther Haidyn or Saint. Their wives don’t know the access code to get in.

“What do you want?” I ask, not even bother ing to turn my head to

see who it is.

“It’s noon,” Haidyn says.

“And?” I ask, pulling the pillow over my head to cover my eyes when he flips on the light.

“Why are you naked in bed this late in the day?” he asks.

Be cause after I found out Adam was still alive, I tried to fix my re la‐ tionship with Sin, and when he pretty much told me to go fuck my‐ self, I went and got hammered. Not the smartest thing, but drown‐ ing my sorrows sounded good. Plus, I was hoping my girl would show up at the biker bar. She never did. Guess she didn’t have a job last night. Probably a good thing. Other wise, I would have made a fool of myself.

“Kash?” Haidyn barks, getting my attention.

He’s not going to go away.

Letting out a growl, I shove the pillow away and flip onto my back.

“Why are you hold ing a cat?” I ask. He stands next to my bed with

Charlotte’s pussy cradled in his arm like a football. His free hand slowly rubs over it like it’s a lamp with a genie inside to grant him three wishes.

Haidyn ignores my question and runs his blue eyes over my naked body. I rolled onto my back hoping it would make him uncomfort‐ able, and he’d leave. Wishful think ing. We’ve seen enough dicks in our lives. Es pecially each other’s.

“Saint asked if I had seen you to day.” He frowns, meeting my stare.

I fold my hands under my head, propping it up and giving him a smile. “Now you can say you’ve seenall of me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Get up. Shower and put some clothes on. Then get your ass down to the base ment.” With that, he turns and exits with the damn cat.

Je sus Christ, his wife has turned him into a pussy lover. All he needs is one of those clear backpacks that women carry around with their cats stuffed into them.

I debate going back to sleep, but he left the light on, so I have to

get up anyway to at least turn it off.

Fuck it.

I pick up my cell off the night stand and see it’s al most dead. I didn’t even bother plugging it in last night. I hate how much it hurts that I don’t have any missed calls or texts from Easton. He’s mad at

me, and for good reason.

I fucked up. I seem to do that a lot.

I have a text, though, so I open it up. It’s from Mr. Fells.

It gives me a time and place for closing on my new house. It’s taken longer than I wanted, but it still moved more quickly than what is common.

I was willing to pay significantly over the asking price. Noth ing is too much when it comes to my girl and our fu ture.

Plugging my cell in to the charger, I get up.

Taking a cold shower doesn’t make me feel any better. But if I don’t go see what Haidyn and Saint want, they’ll come up to my room. To‐ gether. And I can’t es cape them both. Less than fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling on a T-shirt as I shut my bedroom door, making my way down to the basement.

“What do you need?” I ask, entering the pits.

Saint has some guy strapped to the metal ta ble in the center of the room while Haidyn stands next to it.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Saint barks at me.

Going over to the counter, I pick up Haidyn’s pack of cigarettes and re move the Zippo from my pocket, lighting one up. I left mine up in my room. “Why the fuck does it matter?” I turn to face them, lean‐ ing my ass against the edge, and take a drag from the cigarette, feeling the nico tine fill my lungs. Since when do they care what I do with my time? They don’t give me a play-by-play of what they do with theirs.

The guy on the ta ble fights the re straints as Saint adds another over his neck.

Saint’s eyes narrow on mine, but he doesn’t say anything. Mine go to Haidyn, and he frowns at my attitude. “I see you lost the furry pussy. No longer babysitting?” His frown deepens, and I ignore it.

I’m usually the one who cuts up and keeps everyone laughing. I’m over it. I’m mad at them. Even if it’s my fault.

“What’s wrong?” Saint asks me.

“Nothing.” I turn to leave, re alizing they don’t need me for any‐ thing. I could have stayed in bed and wallowed in my own pity.

“Kashton.”

“What?” I spin around and step toward him.

Saint looks at Haidyn, who shrugs as if they’ve al ready had several conver sa tions about me today.

“You have something you want to say?” I come out and ask.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Saint frowns.

I begin to laugh. That’s a dumbass question. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, then quit trying.”

“What the fuck?” He throws his arms out wide. “You’re making fun of Haidyn and a cat, but you’re the one being a little bitch with an

attitude.”

My brows rise to my hair line.

“So what ever the fuck it is, get it out. Right now.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

My gaze drops to the guy who is naked and strapped to the ta ble.

His wide eyes go back and forth between us. I find it ironic that it’s the man we picked up from the cathedral the night I found the woman I’ve spent years searching for. Eve was right there. So close all this time. It’s time to show my face. To re mind her of who I am.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, giving them my back once again.

“Things are fine. Back to normal,” Saint states, making me stop.

I turn to face them once again, and he looks at Haidyn. “We’ve talked it out…”

“You two talked it out.” I nod to myself. “No one has spoken to me.”

I still haven’t had a chance to fin ish the conver sa tion that Haidyn and I started when we res cued him.

“How many times do I have to think you’ve killed your self? Hmm?

How many times do I have to lose a brother?” I ask, looking at him lying in the hospital bed here at Carnage.

I step closer to it and shove my hands into the pockets of my bloody jeans. I haven’t had a chance to change since we pulled him from Dollhouse. “We’ve al ready said bye to Adam twice. And we’re going to have to do it again. But how many times are you going to leave us?” In order for Adam to help us find Haidyn, he made us prom ise to let him walk away from us afterward with no questions

asked.

“I’m not go ing anywhere.”

I snort. “You’ve been MIA and got mar ried. FUCKING MARRIED!” I scream. “You had Adam there. What about us, huh? What about me?” How could he do some thing so important with out me? I

thought we were closer than that.

“I made you her guardian.”

“How was that possi ble, Haidyn? Hmm? Be cause I wasn’t fuck ing there to sign off on that.”

He runs a hand down his face. “I had Adam sign your name.”

I throw my arms out to my sides and then let them fall, slapping my thighs. Of course Adam was there for him. Haidyn’s been hid ing him from us for years. “You should have just had Adam sign his.”

“I wanted you.”

“I—” The sound of the door opening cuts him off, and Charlotte steps into the room.

“What the fuck happened?” His wide eyes go to mine when he sees her condition.

I ignore his ques tion. His wife can answer it. “We’ll finish this con‐ ver sa tion later,” I tell him and walk over to her. I place my hands on either side of her bruised face. “Give him hell, love,” I tell her and re‐ lease her. Reach ing into my pocket, I pull out his wedding ring and hand it to her, leaving them alone.

If I can’t get through to him, maybe she can.

Saint frowns at my pre vious statement, and it just pisses me off even more. “You don’t even know why I’m mad at you guys.”

“You guys?” He points at himself. “What did I do?”

Se ri ously? “You cheated at the vow cere mony.”

Saint throws his head back, laughing like I’ve told a joke. “That was four years ago.”

“That was a big fucking se cret!” I shout, getting more and more ir‐ ritated with him. “It’s literally when everything started going to shit.

Had you told us, maybe we could have pre pared. Done some thing different. Fuck, Saint. Maybe your wife wouldn’t have shot you.” His laughter stops. “Per haps she wouldn’t have ran away and lost her baby. Maybe we wouldn’t have been sentenced to six months of hell.

Who knows?”

He opens his mouth, but I continue, “And you…” I look at Haidyn.

He widens his stance and crosses his tatted arms over his chest.

Ready for a fight. “What the fuck, man? You kept Adam from us for four years?” I don’t care that much that he mar ried Charlotte behind

our backs.

He says nothing.

“Now because of Adam, I’ve lost Sin as well,” I ramble.

They both frown and look at one another. “What happened to Eas‐ ton?” Saint asks.

“After Adam’s fu neral, I went to his house and beat the shit out of him in his living room.”

Saint sighs and runs his hand down in his face. “Was Elli there?”

“Of course his wife was there,” I shout. “And then after we had our meeting with Adam on the plane, I went back to apolo gize, and she

pointed a loaded gun at my face.”

“Kash—”

“Don’t bother,” I interrupt Haidyn. “You guys have kept to your‐ selves for this long, just keep doing that.” With that, I turn and storm through the plastic strip curtains and get on the ele vator.

Fuck, I need a drink and to see her.

She is the only thing that can make this day better. I’m al ready re‐ lying on her as a crutch. I used to have my broth ers, but I’ve lost them one by one. So I’m going to re place them with her.

Eve doesn’t know it yet, but she’s exactly what I need.