Page 7 of His To Claim

As soon as I step out onto the back porch, I immediately spot Drake sitting on the brick wall that separates the yard from the train tracks behind us, a cloud of smoke overhead. His ink black hair is a tousled mess and slightly overgrown, but still looks badass, and his tattoos, which he began collecting just before I first arrived at the house, nearly cover his whole back, arms, chest, and neck. One of the older guys, Kayden, had scored a tattoo gun and would get ink delivered by his uncle every so often. He’s the reason his body is covered in black ink.

I walk toward him and climb up on the wall beside him, but he doesn’t react to my presence. He sits still, staring at the tracks before him, wordlessly handing me the cigarette from his lips.

“Someone has no fucks to give,” I say as I take the cigarette from his hand.

Grayson and Sarah aren’t oblivious to the fact that we’re reckless teenagers, who smoke, drink, and have sex, they just ask us not to do it in their presence and keep it safe.

Guess Drake is done giving a shit. We all have our bad habits. Jade and Kai prefer the bottle, Jaxon and Ruby prefer the green, and for Drake and me, it’s the cancer stick. Anxiety runs high at the Grayson’s and we’re all somehow always on edge. For some odd reason, the bitter taste of a cigarette puts an end to our unease.

“Rumor has it, some fucker from the boujee town next door is paying us a visit today,” he sneers, catching my attention.

“From Hillcrest?” I ask, inhaling the tainted smoke.

“Is there another?” he replies bitterly, still not bothering to look my way.

Hillcrest Hills is the richer, cleaner, and all-around better version of Pleasant Hills. Although the only thing that separates us is a thirty-minute drive up an inclined slope, it’s another world, or so I’ve heard. It’s not like any of us have ever been. The town’s hidden behind a large steel gate allowing only the cream of the crop to enter. The town’s infested with the three C’s: CEO’s, Celebrities, and Capitalists and dubbed the richest town on the West Coast kept hidden behind steel gates.

“What does someone from there have to do with us?”

His green eyes darken as his gaze traces over my exposed midriff and toned thighs as he finally turns to face me. “That’s the million-dollar question, Princess.”

Princess.

He calls me by the pet name he gave me the day we met, three years ago, when Jade and I first arrived at the foster home. I wasfighting with his sister Ruby over who was going to get the shower first since technically I’d gotten to the bathroom first and was about to get in when Ruby came in claiming to have some sort of precedence over the shower stating she was always first.

Apparently, Jade and I were the only ones not “made aware”. She mocked me for thinking I had any say in that. Damon heard us arguing and told me I “needed to get rid of the bitch crown I walked in with, this was no place for a princess.”

Needless to say, that’s the last day I ever played nice or gave two fucks what people thought of me. I spent the whole first part of my life worrying too much about what others thought of me and spent too long caring about saving the nonexistent relationship with my mother, which obviously was a lost cause from the start.

I knew that if these kids wouldn’t show me any respect, then I had to take it, demand it. That night, while Drake and the other guys were out late, I wrote the words “This Bitch Is A Queen” in red permanent marker across their bedroom wall, and had Kayden tattoo the words “Long Live The Queen” on my rib cage. Let’s just say that’s the last time I’d ever bow down to anyone.

After about ten minutes, the cigarette was gone and Grayson was ringing the bell signaling curfew. In this case, she meantfor us to get off our asses and to the living room now.

Hopping off the wall and stepping on the cigarette butt, I follow Drake back into the house to find Kai, Jax, Ruby, and Jade sitting on the couch directly across from Grayson, Sarah, and a man dressed in an all-black, expensive looking suit. I walk towards them but notice Jade looking at me with terror etched into her green eyes. As we approach, Grayson stands and the man beside her follows slowly turning his head toward Drake and I, his graying blond hair and bright blue eyes resembling those of a certain agent who barged into our house years ago.

“These must be the missing two children, Scarlett Steele and Damon Drake,” he says in an arrogant rasp. His amused gazefollows my movements as I continue over to sit on the couch next to Jade, Drake following and sitting on the armrest beside me.

“Yes, now everyone is here,” Grayson says in an anxious tone I've never heard before.

“And what exactly are we here for?” Drake blurts out, eyeing the man suspiciously.

His question causes a deep chuckle to leaveMr. Suit’slips. “Eager young man, Mr. Drake,” he responds, “Well then, let’s get to the point, shall we? My name is Warren Servite, and I am the Headmaster of Servite Academy.”

I nearly faint as he says his name.Servite, just like the agent who came to us looking for Chaz and my mother years ago. My mind takes me back to that morning and the way the air in the room felt eerily grim as he sat before us, watching us with hatred in his eyes, but my thoughts are interrupted as Mr. Servite continues to speak.

“This is Agent Wesley Servite, my brother, former Chief of Hillcrest Police Department, and the current head of security and defense at Servite Academy.”

No!I yell internally as I squeeze Jade’s hand. Beside me Drake notices the shift in my demeanor and sits up straighter, placing a hand protectively on my shoulder. A man I hadn’t noticed standing in the hallway emerges walking toward us. Disbelief consumes me as the same man who threatened us the day they came looking for Chaz and my mother, stands before me.

He looks exactly as I remember him, only a slight stubble on his chin making him appear slightly older, but those eyes, I’d remember them always. They haunted my dreams for months after his arrival.

Agent Servite eyes me wantonly, his crass blue eyes looking straight through me, making me shiver, frightened. Looking between the two men I realize their resemblance is uncanny, only Warren obviously at least ten years older with his smidge of graying hair.

Warren Servite Stands beside his brother. “As you may know,my grandfather founded Servite Academy back in 1920 and it has become the top school in the country, ranking amongst the most prestigious academies worldwide. There’s just one thing preventing us from reaching the top of that list.”

“And what’s that… not enough trust funds to fill the halls?” Kai blurts out, mocking them.

Warren doesn’t react to his insolent comment. “Actually, that’s the problem, Mr. St. Germain.”

---