Page 56 of His To Claim

I run my hands through my hair before exiting myself and heading over to the guys. I need a smoke.

Down by the courtyard at our usual table are Bass, Alek, andBeck with a few other guys we can tolerate. We rarely mingle with any other students here.

We were taught to be kings ruling over their loyal subjects. You don’t befriend the help. You don’t blur the lines between master and slave. Sure, we throw parties where nearly everyone is allowed entrance to, but you won’t find us interacting with anyone other than the girls who are supposed to stand at our side.

Carrington spots me from her place at the girls’ table beside ours.

She eagerly waves me over, swinging her blonde hair over her shoulder and using her arms to push up the cleavage already coming out of her shirt, a birthday gift from her father on her sixteenth birthday. I have to admit I had my fair share of fun with them, but lately, I can barely tolerate her around me. I tell myself it has no connection to the fact that a feisty dark-haired vixen takes up most of my thoughts. But who am I kidding?

Scarlett Steele has gotten under my skin. And it will be my mission to get her under me.

“Ace, what took you so long?” she squeals as I make it to the table.

My sister turns to me, giving me a grueling stare. I don’t know what her deal has been lately, but she’s been in an even nastier mood. Wynter and I are one and the same. Not only have we been told our looks are nearly identical to one another, but we have the same attitude problem, thanks to dear old dad. Wynter is an almost carbon copy of my mother, Willa, with the same natural platinum, almost white hair, clear blue eyes, and snow colored skin. My hair is a darker blond like my father and his brother, but that’s about all we have in common. I hate them both.

They, along with their closest friends, have raised my boys and I to follow in their footsteps and run the underground crime world of Hillcrest Hills and its neighboring territories. But all of that comes at a price. And ours has been our souls.

“What do you want, Carrie?” I scowl at her, and she laughs it off seemingly.

“Just wondering what we’re going dressed as for the party this weekend?” she asks, running her hands down my arm. She flutters her lashes, and it makes me sick.

“Whatever,” I say, turning away from her. “Just choose and let me know.” I leave her standing there with her girls and walk over to Bass who’s smirking at me.

“Why do you look like you’ve just been fucked? And not in a good way, brother?” he asks, leaning back on the table behind him.

I scowl at him turning to look at Carrington. “She’s hot man, what’s the issue?” he asks.

I turn back to him and his smirk is now a full ear to ear grin. “Fuck off, Bass, you know exactly what the problem is.”

“Ah yes. A certain dark-haired babe with a banging body, a smart mouth, and a serious attitude problem that somehow just keeps making your dick hard.”

“Yeah, exactly,” I say, and he laughs hysterically.

“Man, you’re fucked. I get turned on by the little vixen and her outbursts, and I ain’t even the one with my hands all over her.”

“Fuck off, Bass,” I say, walking away and heading, well to be honest, there’s nowhere I can go where my thoughts of her won’t follow.

For the rest of the day, I hide away from Carrington, and notice Scarlett is also avoiding me. After our altercation earlier today, I don’t blame her.

It was intense, our bodies so close together, our heartbeats mimicking each other’s rhythm. Our attraction is undeniable, but I can see her fighting it. My uncle has instructed me to get closer to her, to make her trust me, confide in me. It’s fucked up getting information out of her for his benefit, but I really have no other choice. My uncle calls the shots around here.

Contrary to what everyone around us believes, he’s the man in charge, the true king of this perilous empire. He uses us for hisdirty work. Finding teens willing to deal for him or experiment with his synthetic drug, and if they refuse, well it doesn’t end well for them. He uses the recruits we find to flood the streets of Pleasant Hills, Hillcrest Hills, and the surrounding neighborhoods with his drug. His reach even extending down to Providence almost three hours away.

My father is the puppet whose face is at the front, but behind the scenes is Wesley Servite, the devil himself. I used to blindly follow his orders. He was someone I looked up to. But what Little Red said to me earlier today resonates deep within me.

You act as if the world you’ve been forced to live in corrupted you. As if you unknowingly follow orders, but you’re one and the same with him. Two men cut from the same flaming cloth. Two sinners who disguise themselves as saints to avoid damnation.

She’s right. We’re sinners, there is no good left in us. But then she appeared without warning. The embodiment of salvation.

My redemption.

Twenty

SCARLETT

And the sweet hell continues. Week after week of continuous homework and endless studying. They weren’t kidding when they said Servite Academy was the top College Preparatory School in the state. The load of work and assignments we have to turn in is maddening. I spent the entire week preparing to recite my first monologue of the semester.

After much consideration, I’ve rewritten mine about five times. I've finally went with the one I had initially written. Sitting nervously in my chair, I tap my fingers on the desk in front of me when I catch Ace’s stare on me as I keep fidgeting. The voices all around me silence as Macallan walks into the classroom just as the first bell rings. He sets his briefcase on his desk and walks around to the front of his desk leaning back against it. He’s wearing a dark red sweater today under his black blazer, his brown hair perfectly combed, and dark eyes behind his spectacles. I look at him and his gaze locks with mine. I really hope he doesn’t make me go first.

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