Page 29 of Velka Manor

I took Bastian’s favourite knife and hammered it until it was bent into a weird shape, rendering it unusable. Before I destroyed the knife, I used it to stab and rip the pages of Dorian’s favourite book: a signed first edition of Dracula by Bram Stoker.

Shit, I took it too far.

“Someone’s looking nervous. Poor little mouse scared?” Ghost taunts as I bite my bottom lip, staring at the unsalvageable items.

“Shut up,” I snap, pointing the bat at him. “And stop calling me a mouse. I’m not a child for you to torment.”

He tilts his head to the side, examining me. It’s not in a creepy, pervy way; he’s not checking me out, more like sizing me up.

“You’re right, you’re not a child anymore.” He takes a few steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. I hold the bat under his chin, pushing it up, but he stays unbothered, maybe a bit amused.

“You’re not the scared little mouse you were as a child, but do you think you have what it takes to survive in this bloodline? To survivethem?” He purses his lips, shaking his head. “I’m not sure.”

He lets me go with a jolt, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut because I don’t know the answer to his question. I don’t know if I can survive it all, but I do know I will die trying if it means I get to have them, no matter for how short a time.

Ghost grabs the chest I was smashing on the floor, still just about in one piece, and eyes it with disdain, grunting as he picks it up. As he gets to the door, he turns, giving me a look I can’t quite figure out.

“I didn’t do or show you those things when you were younger to torment you.” He blows a strand of platinum blond hair out of his eyes, the small wrinkles around them deepening.

“Then why did you?” I ask, frowning. I always assumed he did it because he was a deranged bastard like everyone else.

He sighs heavily, looking me up and down, but again, not in a creepy way. “I was trying to make sure you made it into adulthood within the bloodline. To make sure yousurvived, Octavia.”

He pauses for a second, and it looks like he’s about to say something else, but two throats clear loudly, interrupting us. He twists to find Bastian and Dorian glaring at him. Bas has his arms crossed, clenching his hands, while Rian raises an eyebrow, a challenging gaze in his eyes.

Ghost turns around once more to me, a small smile on his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile. “Luckily I wasn’t the only one trying.”

He bows his head to me once and walks past my brothers, leaving me more confused than ever.

“What was that about?” I mutter, unsure if I’m asking them or myself. The question doesn’t matter, though, as they don’t answer me.

Dorian and Bastian slowly walk into the room, their shoes crunching on broken glass, kicking bits of wood and clothing out of their path, their attention on the items I left on the bed.

“I didn’t mean to,” I say straight away, taking a step closer but halting as they pick up their items.

Bastian gasps audibly, clutching the knife to his chest, rocking and soothing it like a baby. “Aww, my poor girl. What happened to you?”

“Bas-”

“It looks like this was done intentionally, angel. Pray tell, how did youaccidentallydo this?” Dorian places the book down gently on the bed before twisting towards me, pursing his lips, waiting for an answer.

I shuffle from side to side, the barbed wire bat still clutched in my hand. I can’t let go of it.

“I… I was angry. I wasn’t thinking straight, I wanted to hurt you as much as you hurt me,” I confess softly, feeling childish in my tit for tat.

“She will never be the same,” Bastian cries dramatically. “Ruined. My poor baby ruined, and I wasn’t here to watch herlast moments. Oh, sweet, dark mother, I’m begging you to bring her back to life. Take away my grief.”

He twirls, falling gracefully onto the bed, the back of his hand on his forehead, still clutching the knife to his chest, only laying there for about a second before sitting back up, sending me a wink. Half my worry and fear disappears at his playfulness, and I let out a small giggle, unable to hold it in. Bas is never mad at me, no matter what I do. Dorian, on the other hand…

“You wanted to hurt us as much as we hurt you?” He phrases it as a question, but he doesn’t expect me to answer. “How have we hurt you, Octavia? By protecting you all your life? By being your constant, your lifeline, by making us yours as much as you are ours?”

The rage from earlier trickles in, and the more he talks, the more red I see. My grip on the bat tightens, my fingers flexing around the handle.

“By taking away a choice about my body.Mybody, Dorian, not yours,” I say, slicing the bat through the air. “That tattoo should have been my choice, as well as having a ring tattooed on my finger. You don’t get to decide that for me. Everything in my goddamn life has always been decided, but my body ismine.”

Dorian’s face morphs into a smile so fast, it has my emotions pausing. “That’s my girl.” He smirks, Bastian joining him with a matching grin.

“What?”

---