Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

TYRANT

It takes Peri, Vic, and Demo to get me out of the fucking house. They know better than to try and restrain me, so they act as a kind of a wall and just keep me moving until I’m outside on the back porch.

There’s a table with a handful of people sitting around it. All drinking and talking, enjoying the night and the party. Girls on guys laps. That tipsy, flirty shit going on. I flip the table onto one of the guys and dare someone to do something about it.

Demo finally slams his chest into mine. We’re nose to nose. Demo is thicker, heavier, a fucking beast. I’m not afraid of anything. Anyone. Ever.

In my head I’m thinking some insane thoughts. About the brood. The legion. About the Perg. All of it. I’m thinking about the throne and what should be and what isn’t.

I know if I kill Des without the approval of the legion itself, I’ll be held captive and tortured for years. They don’t just kill traitors around here. They keep them alive. Keep them in excruciating pain. There are underground parts to SA that not many know about or have visited. I’ve heard there are basically prison cells under our feet with prisoners who are kept alive to suffer and age.

“Step the fuck back, Demo,” I growl.

“You step the fuck back,” he says. “You want to lose your mind? Go for it. Go for a run. Go lift some weights. Go find someone to chain up and fuck senseless. I’m sure there’s a list of work waiting at the Perg. ”

I grit my teeth and curl my lip.

“You didn’t even want to fuck around with the new arrival to begin with,” Vic says from behind me.

He’s right. Completely right. I want nothing to do with Serafina. Yet I can’t… I just fucking can’t imagine her in the arms or under the control of Des …

But it’s how this works. There’s nothing to do other than fulfill my part. Break her in. Break her down. Leave her with a broken soul and a need for punishment . And the ability to smile through pain.

I have to make her into a good wife for Des.

There is more than one way to blow off some steam. The way I see it, there’s always a target. The targets from the legion. And the targets I choose.

I walk back into the house. Mac is behind the counter once again, still cleaning up the mess from when I punched Des in the face.

I walk to my right and by the intense game of beer pong. Someone sinks a ball into a cup and there’s a collective cheer. A second later some whore unclasps her bra and takes it off. She waves it over her head and throws it to the guy who sank the shot. I look at her tits for a second. Then I go into the room where a rage style dance party continues on. As soon as I see Naya, I pounce.

Now the thing is—grabbing Naya by the throat only makes her cunt soaked. She’s beyond fucked up. Someone at some point will have no choice but to marry her. Or maybe someone in the legion will give the orders to one of us to lace her pot with some fentanyl and let her overdose and die.

Naya is dry humping some guy who is wearing a bunch of glow necklaces and bracelets. I grab Naya’s hair and pull her away from her dance partner. Before the guy can even mutter a syllable in my direction I hit him in the mouth. Dude is so pathetic he stumbles and falls into a table of drinks and ends up on the floor.

I have an audience watching me and I don’t give one fuck. Everyone knows who I am and what I’m part of. I yank at Naya’s hair and drive her down to her knees.

“You fucking drugged up whore,” I growl at her. “You told her my name, didn’t you?”

“Going to punish me, Tyrant?” Naya asks.

There’s practically hearts floating from her eyes. I tighten my grip on her hair and feel strands start to tear away. At the last second, I growl in my throat and spit down at Naya. A fat glob of thick saliva smacks her above her right eye.

I release my hold on her hair and walk away, peeling pieces of her hair off my fingers. Now I’m on a quest to find my claimed one .

The house is huge. An old gothic colonial house with enough history to fill a book and then some. A long history of parties, seances, trials, and other events. Ghosts scattered throughout if you believe in that kind of thing.

As I make my way toward the front room where a guy sits at a piano and gently plays while two drunk guys stare in awe and sway, someone calls out my name. I turn wanting to see Serafina. Instead, it’s her other roommate.

Fucking Lia. This little snobby cunt will be your best friend and act completely innocent, all the while sharpening a blade meant for your back.

“What the fuck do you want?” I ask Lia.

“I can’t find Sera.”

I lunge for Lia, my hand ready to grab her throat. Ready to throw her through a fucking window.

“What the fuck?” I growl.

“She was drinking her drink and then suddenly said she needed to find a bathroom. She said she felt like something was really wrong. I don’t know. She took off upstairs and got lost in the crowd. Her drink…”

“Oh, fuck me,” I say.

I shove Lia out of the way and race toward the steps. I climb the steps two at a time. Anyone in the way is knocked out of my way. My shoulders are like battering rams and nothing will stop me from getting to my claimed one .

Once I’m upstairs, it’s time to play a game called Kick in Every Fucking Door Until I Find Serafina . Behind the first door some guy is getting a blow job on the corner of the bed. Behind the second door some guy is standing behind some girl and she’s bent over the bed, taking it hard. The third door is open. A bathroom.

Empty.

I smash my foot against the fourth the door and I see Serafina standing near a window. An open fucking window. She grabs for the curtains, her legs rubbery, knees hitting together like a newborn giraffe. She looks at me but I’m not sure she can actually see me.

Someone drugged her fucking drink.

Fucking… hell…

I run toward Serafina. She turns and starts to throw herself at the open window. I’m not sure if she’s trying to get away or kill herself.

“Fuck,” I growl.

My hands grab her waist and pull her against me, saving her life. Her body crashes back against mine and she puts her hands up and reaches back, clawing at my neck. Her head tilts side to side and she starts to groan.

My hands curl tight as I hold her. She’s fucking out of her mind right now. Someone planned this. Someone drugged her drink and got her into this room. I wonder if someone already…

She’s wearing pants. I don’t think someone would have had their way with her and then dressed her. Or maybe they did. Maybe that’s why the window is open.

Fuck her and let her fall out of the window and die.

My heart pulses with anger and rage just the same as my cock pulses at the feel of my claimed one ’s body rubbing against mine. I can’t have her like his. I’m not the one who drugged her. When the time comes for that, she will be well aware of what’s happening and she will be the one telling me to do it.

This… this is different.

I move Serafina toward the bed and basically let her fall down onto it. I turn toward the open window, shut and lock it. Demo comes charging into the bedroom.

“Oh, fuck,” he says.

“She’s drugged,” I say to him. “Stay with her for a minute. Do not fucking touch her.”

“Seriously, man? Do you really think that I would…”

“Just keep her safe, Demo,” I say.

I race out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen. My mind has some scenarios playing out. Mac looks at me and it takes him a second to realize I’m about to attack him.

He ducks and my first punch misses him. He wraps his arms around me and picks me up. I land an elbow to the middle of his back.

“What did you put in her drink?” I ask.

Mac breaks away from me and we both shove at each other.

“I didn’t touch her fucking drink,” he says. “Are you fucking accusing me of drugging your claimed?”

“Someone did something to her drink,” I say. “Someone…”

Mac is not a good person. None of us are. We’re all here for a reason. We’ve done unthinkable shit in our lives. But there is some kind of structure around here.

“I poured the same drink for them both,” he says. “I’m not in the business of that shit. You know that, Ty. You’re out of fucking control.”

“Fuck yourself, Mac,” I growl.

There’s no use in continuing talking to Mac. Or picking a fight with him.

When I arrived at this fucking party, I walked toward the kitchen and saw someone standing with their arm around my claimed one . I saw his right hand touching her shoulder. Squeezing her shoulder. His right finicky and on the move… All this right before I punched him and all hell broke loose.

It was him…

Des drugged my claimed one.