Page 35 of Bound By Obsession

The man in question has had it out for Meg, and she gives as good as she gets. As Avery pulls out a deck of playing cards, I jerk my head discreetly to Axel and we slip upstairs.

“Did you get it?”

Axel nods, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as we head into the quiet of his bedroom. “Of course I did,” he whispers, pulling a sleek, rectangular box wrapped in deep green paper and tied with a crimson ribbon out from beneath his pillow. “The jeweler was just opening the shop but he wasn’t going to turn down the cash we offered. Bank of Huxley,” Axel chuckles softly.

I’d only been filling my time exploring the house when I happened upon a thin stairway to the attic. Somewhere Huxley had apparently already found, because he’d stashed his cash-filled backpack there. Suddenly a few tattered boxes of decorations became the spark for a Christmas I thought we were going to pretend wasn’t happening - with Huxley’s permission, of course.

Axel flips open the velvet box to reveal a delicate bracelet, thin strands of silver woven together like vines, studded with tiny diamonds that catch the light. In the center sits a charm of a compass with intricately etched directions. “There wasn’t much choice but I thought this might be fitting. Like she can always find her way back to us. Think she’ll like it?”

“Are you kidding? It’s stunning. She’ll love it.” Axel’s hazel eyes sparkle, devotion rolling from him in waves. Finally, he’sfound someone to love who will return his affections. Taking the bracelet in his large fingers, he carefully turns it over.

“And it turns out, the jeweler had an engraver on hand. I got him to add this.” On the back of the charm sits a tiny, dainty outline of a swan above the initials S.S.The Shadowed Souls.

“Oh, Axe.” I pat him on the back, overcome with emotion. “She’s going to cry, you know.” Hell, I think I’m going to cry just imagining her response.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning. “That’s the plan.” Tucking the bracelet back into the box, he slides it back beneath his pillow just as shouting sounds from downstairs. Not the kind of Garrett driving Meg crazy, but the panicked kind which drags my attention to the doorway. Rushing from the room, we take the stairs two at a time. Huxley is barking orders at Avery and Meg to go upstairs, leaving no room for argument. His tone is harsh, laced with concern and my own gut twists. The girl’s sulky faces push past me as I hop down from the bottom step. “What’s going on?” I ask no one in particular.

“A car has pulled up outside.” Garrett answers for me, everyone standing around the living room poised for some kind of attack. Sweat lines Huxley’s brow as he flexes his hands beneath the cuffs of his sweater. Axel and I are hanging back by the staircase, panic closing in. The weapons Huxley bought have been hidden all over the house and I’m already calculating which one is closest.

Shooting through the kitchen, a shadow on the other side of the blind follows me. My heart beats wildly, emotions I can’t pay attention to rising and guiding my actions. From the cupboard beneath the basin, my hand curls around the cold, metal handle of my chosen object.

Pausing with my palm hovering over the back-door’s handle, the figure steps in line with me, their face obscured by a black hood. Huxley shouts for me to get back but there’s only so manytimes I can hide behind his bravado. I love Avery just as much as anyone in this house, and I have to be prepared to protect her safety like any other. Grabbing the handle, I twist and throw the door open, holding a hammer high above my head. Green eyes widen at the sight, Wyatt’s eyebrows cocking in surprise.

“Hey Dax, nice to see you too.”

Footsteps pound against the wraparound porch, a heavy weight collides with me from behind and sending me flying into Dax. Initially thinking I’ve been attacked; I elbow and squirm until I recognize Garrett’s fingers pushing in my hair and forcing my hood down. Dax pulls us both into a tight embrace, my bones threatening to crack under the pressure. It only hits me now how much I’ve truly missed my boys, a feeling that was much easier to suppress when they weren’t around. Releasing me so I can breathe again, I find Axel approaching to clasp my hand.

“Welcome back, I hope you’re staying?” His crisp hazel eyes watch me closely as I slap on the relaxed smile I’ve been practicing the whole way here from the passenger seat of Nixon’s navy Sedan. Not having the words to lie to him, I nod and moveinto the modern kitchen, removing my backpack and placing it on the mahogany dining table. Blond waves catch my attention, the saddest brown eyes I’ve ever seen glancing across the room but he makes no move to greet me. Walking through the kitchen, I initiate the hug this time, having known seeing Huxley would be the hardest part of this whole charade.

“Hey Hux.” Gripping him tightly, he buries his face into my neck and squeezes me with the same vigor.

“Why didn’t you return any of my calls?” His voice is muffled against my skin, moisture pooling in my collar-bone from the few tears which have escaped him. I swallow down my guilt, forcing myself to remember the real reason I came here. For answers. For revenge. “I’ve really needed you,” he whispers, clearly not wanting the others to hear.Fuck, I didn’t expect my resolve to crumble so easily.

“I know, I’m sorry man. I’m here now.” I pat him on the back, my heart breaking as I say the words that I know aren’t true. Needing to distance myself, I step back and my eyes land on my father standing uselessly in the living area. He came in the sensible way, through the front door. No longer trapped in his close proximity and pointedly ignoring him, I glance over his hair which has more gray in the temples than he’s ever permitted before, disappointment etched into his pale blue eyes. Stubble lines his tense jaw which is at odds with his overly smart attire.

“We need to talk. All of us.” There’s no fondness in his tone until he approaches the staircase and looks up longingly. “I’ll get the girls.” I clench my fists until he’s disappeared from sight. Hatred has kept me more company than Nixon has, the man I used to crave praise from barely uttering two words to me during the entire private jet and car ride. It was preferred really. I don’t think I would have been able to make small talk without screaming at the top of my lungs, demanding answers.

Not in any rush to start this non-family reunion, I take in my surroundings. A charcoal gray sofa large enough to seat five, faces a lit fireplace with two matching armchairs parallel. A dark coffee table divides the room with a similarly colored cabinet by the window, and absolutely nothing else. No TV or games consoles, no entertainment in the slightest. I can already feel the boredom settling into my veins already.

Four pairs of eyes follow me as I wander around the room and take the armchair that’s facing Huxley. He’s rigid, his open hands placed on his jean-clad thighs. Thighs which look thinner, much like the bagginess of his T-shirt hiding a lack of muscle within. Dark circles frame his eyes and his hair is limp, in need of some deep conditioning. The Huxley I left behind would have never let himself get in such a state. What have they been doing to him?

Twisting his head to look at me expectantly, I blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “You look like shit.” Huxley doesn’t react, nodding with slow acceptance. Axel is quick to sit at his side and jump to his defense.

“Speak for yourself,” Axel narrows his eyes at me.

I look down at my black hoodie, dark jeans and Timberlands. I look exactly the same as I always do. “Not your clothes,” Axel clarifies. “You. Your eyes are bloodshot to shit. Are you on drugs?” Scoffing and refusing to answer such a stupid question, I hold out my empty hand towards Dax and Garrett lingering in the kitchen.

“Is someone going to get me a whiskey or do I need to do it myself?”

“You won’t find whiskey here, Riot. You know it triggers Avery.”

“Of course. Silly me,” I roll my eyes. The expressions, which so recently were overjoyed to see me, harden. I knew it wouldn’t take long. Footsteps sound on the stairs, beating in time with mydead heart. This is the part I’ve been truly dreading. Seeingheragain. But it’s not Avery who’s trailing Nixon first. It’s Meg.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” I scowl. No one answers. Avery has a whole support system under one roof while I’ve been cast aside, floundering on my own. I just buried a parent I didn’t get the chance to know, while she’s been surrounded by the men who are supposed to be mine. Ignoring me, Nixon steps aside for Meg to pass, closely followed by Avery. Fluffy white socks, long legs in leggings and an oversized orange hoodie swamping her upper half. I glare with malicious intent.

Is that my hoodie?

Ordering us to all congregate at the dining table, Nixon taps his foot and checks his watch for added effect as I slowly make my way over last. I’m numb to his glower, no longer a pup on his leash. I’m my own kind of pit bull now. I stride purposefully towards the furthest chair, ready to get this over with as quick as possible. Ready to hear Nixon’s lies.

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