Page 47 of Seizing Control: Part One

Steadfast. Loyal. Wise. Kind. Loving.

As the depth of my feelings for him slap me in the face, I fall back a step.

Different but equal is a fine line to toe.

The two men, best friends who are staring at me with identical levels of love in their eyes, are going to be my undoing. Their strong personalities, the love they also have for each other, the inimitable pride they possess in spades, it’s a recipe for heartbreak.

Mine.

Theirs.

At this point, I’m starting to think this spectacle was inevitable.

I’ve known the reality of my feelings for the two men for one night.

Seems like everyone has known for a lot longer.

Would they forgive me for the upcoming war if I admitted that I didn’t know how I felt until yesterday? That I was oblivious to my love for the two men. Seamless halves of perfection. Brothers by chance. Brothers by choice. Brothers for life? The light and the dark. The calm and the storm. I’d meld them into one if I could.

At least, I think I would...

Wouldn’t I?

“My friend?” Bebe’s derisive scoff rips me out of my existential crisis. She steps out of the crowd, and I get my first good look at her. Every ounce of oxygen is ripped from my lungs at what I see, but I don’t have time to process the truth before she drops an atom bomb into the middle of my life with her next declaration. “A real friend doesn’t sleep with her friend’s ex.”

Her boldly stated insinuation drains the colour from Zeke’s face. Eyes on mine, he stumbles backward like he’s been struck. Breathing shallowly, fighting to evade the incapacitating jitteriness that overcomes me thanks to the extra adrenaline surging through me, I shoot him a pleading look that begs for the chance to explain. As anger replaces the pain of my perceived disloyalty in his gaze, his wounded ego draws Venom to the surface, and, wild with rage, Zeke whirls around to face his best friend.

Fingertip jabbing Slash’s chest harshly, my ex-fiancé snarls, “You’re fuckin’ Lily?”

“No.”

The response is technically correct, however, it’s obvious to everyone that Slash isn’t being completely honest. I gasp at the hint of malice in his ice-blue gaze, and he evades my beseeching look with a calculated cruelty that I’ve never seen him exhibit. I open my mouth, ready to beg them not to fight, anxious to add context to the situation despite our audience, but Zeke beats me to the punch.

“Bullshit,” he declares.

Posture laced with contempt, Slash offers Zeke a slow, disdainful blink and the barest hint of a smirk. The temper that bubbles beneath the surface of the lethal man I’ve always trusted with my life pulses with the intensity of a black hole. Drawing on every slight his pride has endured, Venom seizes control of my first love’s psyche, transforming Zeke from a mere human into a vortex of betrayal and retribution.

“You motherfucker,” he bellows as he pounces on Slash.

While the men I love exchange punches, I remain frozen to the spot.

Gaze fixed on Bebe, my disbelieving eyes refuse to acknowledge what my shattered heart has already comprehended. Advancing on me with unconcealed malice, only to stop a few feet away when Toker makes it clear that she’s not going to be allowed any closer, there is spitefulness in the pregnant woman’s expression as she slowly rakes her gaze over my face. I exhale in a rush, determined to withhold the reaction she’s apparently seeking. Undeterred, Bebe smiles with feigned sweetness as she pulls her shoulders back, cocks her right hip, and turns slightly to offer me an unhindered view of her rounded belly.

“Six months and four days,” Bebe announces loud enough for everyone in our immediate vicinity to hear. I swear the bar falls silent, Zeke and Slash’s fight forgotten, as they watch my life implode without contributing a word of support. Hands cradling the lower swell of her stomach, she continues. “A healthy baby boy, strong enough to survive... everything.” The pale redhead falls silent, a glimmer of insanity in her emerald eyes as she watches her allusion settle over me like a cloak of stinging nettles. “Miraculously conceived the night I tended to your injuries.”

Although my mind had already made the connection when she announced how far along she is, the vicious way Bebe drives home her point is a death knell to any chance I had of keeping my cool in the face of her nastiness. Unthinkingly, driven solely by pain and sorrow, I close the distance between us in one stride, pull my arm back, and slap her hard across the face. The impact whips Bebe in a half-circle. My palm stings, yet my need to hurt her as much as she’s hurting me isn’t sated in the least. When I move to strike her again, this time with my fingers curled into a fist, Toker grabs hold of my wrist, and forces me to yield to his staying hand.

The cloud of agonising grief lifts a little, and horror invades me.

I just slapped the mother of Slash’s son.

“Don’t go feelin’ bad,” Toker mutters when I sag into him. “Bitch’s gettin’ off light.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.” A hand pressed to her cheek, Bebe wheels around to face me. Her gaze is filled with unconcealed loathing when she sneers at Toker, then settles her focus back on me. “You’re about to be force-fed some home truths... something you’ve never been very good at handling, duchess.”

Slash’s pet name drips from her tongue like acid.

Her reminder of the stakes in the game she’s playing snaps me out of the grief clouding my rational side. I clear my throat, then shake free of Toker’s grip. Moving into Bebe’s space, I gather every ounce of self-respect I possess and peer down my nose at her.

---