Chapter 21

I wakeup with a sharp jolt, my eyes flying open. The room is pitch black, and instinctually, I reach over to Roman's side of the bed and feel his large, warm body.

Thank God.

I have no idea what woke me up, but it was probably just a bad dream. That shit with Nathan is really messing with me, and even now, I lay my head back down and try to fall back asleep, his words spin, and spin, and spin inside my head.

She begged me to let her live.

She begged me not to go after you.

Those words echo in my mind, and a tear rolls down my cheek. Did she really beg, or did Nathan make that up to torment me? I'll never know, but just the fact that she was stabbed multiple times means she knew what was happening, if even just for a moment—and that…God…that hurts more than anything. The fear she must have felt.

My God, I can't do this.

I can't allow my mind to go to those dark places. It's a constant battle, though, pulling my mind back from the edge of the yawning black abyss of grief.

Sitting up, I reach for my phone, which is charging on the nightstand. I need a distraction. I need to scroll through social media mindlessly until my brain is so tired, I fall back asleep.

I'm feeling around the nightstand in the dark, but my phone isn't there. It was at 5% battery, so I know I plugged it in. But maybe it fell?

Cursing under my breath, I fling the blankets off and slide off the bed, getting down on my knees to feel around under the bed. "Where the fuc—"

A large hand clamps over my mouth and someone yanks me backward, pulling me up at the same time, so I'm standing. I yelp, but it's muffled by the person's hand.

"Shhh, it's okay, baby. I've got you."

It's James's voice in my ear, and the sound trickles down my spine like ice cubes, making my blood run cold. I shake my head and scream, but again, the sound is muffled, and in the darkness, I don't even see Roman stir.

So I do the only thing I can, I kick and flail, and do everything within my limited power to throw him off me, or get him to let go. Not surprisingly, it doesn't work. He's at least three times my size and much stronger than me. And the more I struggle, the tighter his arm cinches around me, the more firmly his hand pushes against my mouth.

He pulls me out of the room, down the main staircase, to the hallway on the ground floor. I continue to struggle, kicking out at anything that could crash to the floor and wake Roman up, but James is holding me tight against his body, restricting my movement.

When we reach the study, he opens one door and shoves me inside. The room is pitch black, and I nearly trip over my own feet as I stumble and try to catch myself.

I hear the door shut, followed by the click of a metal lock. Then I guess he flips the light switch because bright light instantly floods the room. And then….I see him. It's the first time I've laid eyes on him since that night in my apartment. The night he held me hostage and threatened to kill me.

His blond hair is longer than I remember, and it's unwashed, but he still looks more handsome than he has any right being. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and blue eyes that look exactly like Roman's. But that's where the similarities end. Where Roman's eyes are cold and intense, James's eyes are wild and disconnected from what's happening around him, like he has no grip on reality at all.

"There are guys with guns at every door. How did you get in here?" I ask, my voice trembling.

He shrugs one shoulder. "This house is ancient, so it wasn't hard to pick the lock on Roman's balcony door. I've been doing it since I was a kid. I'd always sneak in and spy on the shit that went on during the ceremonies here. Like, all the fucking time. It was wild."

Well, so much for ex-Navy SEALs keeping us safe. But if I screamed, would one of them hear me? The guy at the front door would be closest, but that's pretty far from the study.

"What do you want?" I ask.

He lifts his arms, like isn't it obvious? "You, baby. I'm here for you."

I shake my head and take a cautious step back. "I don't want you here, James. You shouldn't be here. You're supposed to be in the rehab center."

"I know, baby," he says, stepping forward like he's approaching a wounded kitten. Tears glisten in his eyes like he's holding himself back from grabbing me and pulling me into an embrace. Like we're reunited lovers or something. "I know. But I had to see you."

I pull in a stuttering breath. "Okay," I say. "Now you've seen me."

His expression falls instantly. "I just have one question." He approaches, angling his head, like he's studying my expression. "Why were you in my brother's bed?" He says that last part with so much disgust, it sends a spike of fear straight through me.

We're only ten minutes into this, and I'm already way out of my depth. How do I tell my crazy, violent ex that I'm fucking his brother? How do I convince him I didn't know who Roman was when I met him? No matter what I say, I know it'll send James into a violent tailspin.

"Tell me," he yells so loud, it makes me jump.

My hand flies to my chest. I pray one of the guys heard that, but this house is huge, so the likelihood they did is depressingly slim.

"Please, James. Let's not do this." I try to keep my voice soft, and non-confrontational, so I don't anger him more. I know exactly what happens when James Chandler gets angry, and I don't ever want to see that version of him again.

He stalks toward me, and I back up more. "I know you weren't fucking him," he says slowly, shaking his head. "Because I know my brother would never do that to me." He shrugs. "So why were you there? Hm?"

I lift my chin, but I don't answer. I can't answer. What would I even say?

James is close now, and he smiles at me, dipping his head to brush his dry, chapped lips across mine. "Were you waiting for me, baby? Is that it? You knew I'd come looking for my brother."

His hot breath makes me want to gag, and I twist my head. He's so close now, his body is pressing against mine, and I use my forearms to try and push him off me. It doesn't shift his weight even a little.

"No!" I scream, triggered by the suffocating feel of his body. I can't move, and each breath is hot and thick in my lungs, like sludge. "Get off me, James. I can't fucking breathe."

He pulls back a little, and laughs, watching my face like he's amused by my anger. "There she is," he says in a weird southern drawl like he's a cowboy or something. "There's my spicy little whore."

He grabs my face and forces me to look at him. I fight against the urge to dry heave. The sting of bile rises in the back of my throat, and I swallow it down with a wince.

Grabbing his hand, I use my fingernails to try and pry his hand off me. "You're hurting me," I spit, anger clenching like a fist in my chest. "Let go."

His eyes darken for a split second before he pushes my face, and laughs. The way he does that—shoves me away like I'm his plaything—pisses me off. Clenching my jaw, I glare at him. I'm not the same girl I was last time we did this fucking dance. I'm stronger now, more confident, and fuck if I'm going to let him do this shit to me again.

"You're going to walk out of this house right-fucking-now," I say calmly, anger simmering just below the surface of my polite tone.

He laughs again, slightly manic. "And why would I do that? I'm with my sweet baby now. It's everything I've wanted for the last year."

He moves to stand in front of me, looking down at me like a love-sick puppy. To see him this way, you'd never think he was dangerous. He might even look endearing, his handsome face switching quickly from playful and amused to yearning and tormented.

Yeah, a year ago, I feel for that. But now I know better. Now I know the devil behind that mask.

I guess he's a lot like his brother that way.

Roman and James share so many qualities, it's crazy I didn't see them sooner. They both have that darkness inside them, that controlling, obsessive personality that's both compelling and terrifying all at once.

But James's love is a poison. It's malformed and cruel.

It's selfish.

Even now, he doesn't acknowledge that I'm trembling. He doesn't see it, because he doesn't care. All he can see is what he wants to see, what fits the narrative he's created in his mind.

I swallow and steel myself for what I'm about to say because I know he'll reject it initially. But I have to try and get through to him. "I'm not your baby, James. I've moved on, and so should you."

His features harden, and there's a flash of anger in his eyes that makes my pulse race. But I hold my ground because I have to.

He squints and leans forward threateningly. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean, you've moved on?"

I lift my chin, and I swear I can hear Bree in my mind. Be brave, Lux. Hold your ground. "Exactly what I just said. I've been with someone, James. I've moved on."

I'm hoping that confession will make me look "soiled" in his eyes, used. I'm hoping it'll disgust him.

"Who?" he says low and threatening. "Who was it?"

I consider telling him it was Roman, just to twist the knife, but I can't get the words out. I'm afraid that might be pushing him too far. I have to toe the line between reasoning with him, and triggering his violent side.

"It doesn't matter who," I say.

He nods slowly, his gaze locked on me like he's trying to decide if I'm lying. "Is that why you never wrote me back?"

Um."I never received a letter from you."

He steps back, shakes his head, and starts to pace. Then he pauses and turns to face me. "Nah, I don't believe that. I gave those letters to my brother, and he swore he'd give them to you."

"He must have kept them, because I never saw a letter," I say honestly.

He rushes up to me and shoves a finger into my chest. "See, this is our fucking problem, Lux. This right here. You can't just be fucking honest with me."

My heart is pounding like a jackhammer against my ribs, but I keep my chin high. "You want honesty, James?" I say, leaning into his finger. The blunt tip digs into my skin and muscle, but I force myself to ignore the twinge of pain. "Even if I did receive a letter from you, I wouldn't have read it. I wouldn't have responded to it, because you and I are nothing." I annunciate that last word slowly so there's no misunderstanding me. "There will never be anything between us ever again."

His face goes blank, and it doesn't look like my words land at all. Then abruptly, his hand darts up, and he grabs my throat, squeezing until my airway is completely cut off. Panic sets in, and I open my mouth to pull air into my lungs, but I can't. I claw at his fingers with one hand, while blindly feeling around with the other hand for something I can use as a weapon. My fingers brush against a standing lamp. I try to grab it, but I just manage to push it down, and it falls to the ground with a loud crash.

Oh, my God.My lungs are screaming for air, and in seconds, I know I'm going to pass out. I struggle to hold on to consciousness, but it's already starting to slip.

His fingers are still curled around my throat when he reaches down and pulls out a gun from his waistband. Then I feel it, something pressed against my cheek, the round metal mouth of a gun.

Leaning in, he whispers harshly in my ear, "Death is like a baptism. The blood will cleanse you, and make your soul pure. Then we can be together again…"