Page 37 of Sardonic Burn

He starts speaking after I start to walk away, but I tune it out. I don’t listen to his words, and I ignore my mother’s request to come back. Instead, I walk out of their house with eyes filled with tears.

The moment I’m sitting in my car, I break down completely.

Jane’s always been the baby of the family. She’s the only one allowed to pursue her dreams away from this hellhole. And that’s what I want for my baby sister, too. To make sure her life is blissful, long, and filled with happiness.

Nikolas, on the other hand, can do no wrong.

He fucked the enemy and faced no consequences. If it were me, I would’ve been stripped of the heir title. I would’ve been locked in the basement until father’s anger subsided, but it’s hard for him to let go of his anger.

I don’t mind being the scapegoat, the one sacrificing everything for this family. I know I’m more capable than Nikolas and Jane combined and that Ray and Kalina have high expectations of me, but hearing that I’m doing well once in a blue moon wouldn’t hurt.

They act like they care about me, but one minor inconvenience and I would get thrown out, disowned, and labeled as a traitor. I’d be hunted down for the rest of my life because my life has no value to them.

That’s why I’m desperate to reach Dylan.

At this point, he’s the only family I have. Jane is far away, Nikolas isn’t worth my time, and Kalina and Ray won’t notice that something is wrong with me unless I say it. And I don’t want to say it.

It’s time for me to face reality.

I’m replaceable, but my skills aren’t. Ray can subtly threaten me all he wants, but we both know he’ll never go through with the threats as long as he has any use for me. Giving me the authority gives him more free time to spend with Kalina. Although I know I’m being used as a pawn in his game, I’m starting to get rid of the anger.

It’s finally time for me to take a step forward—with no steps back.

I’ve waited for this moment my entire adult life, and I’ll be damned if his words get the best of me.

With my sleeve, I wipe the fallen tears and take a deep breath.

The moment I get home, I send a message to Hudson. He’s been blowing up my phone for the past few days, switching between annoying me and demanding I respond. He didn’t show up at my doorstep, which I’m beyond grateful for.

Hudson doesn’t respond for a while.

I don’t know why, but it irritates me. I have many missed calls and at least a hundred texts, so I thought he’d respond as soon as I messaged him. But it’s quiet, and a nauseated feeling fills my stomach.

By the time the clock strikes ten in the evening, instead of sleeping, I’m pacing in my living room, biting my thumb.

Neither Hudson nor Dylan are answering my calls or texts. I’m anxious that something has happened to Dylan and even more that someone managed to kill Hudson before me.

My head snaps to the front door. Someone is furiously pressing the bell, and I hurry toward the door, opening it one swing.

Hudson stands before me, clutching the left side of his stomach. His hand is covered in blood, his shirt soaked in the liquid. The wound continues to gush ichor, and it makes me gag.

“Why are you here?”

Hudson swallows.

“I had nowhere else to go.”

In that moment, the image of him sucking blood off my lips resurfaces behind my eyes. The stinging sensation returns from when he dragged the knife across my cheek, causing me to have a matching scar as this bastard.

The little sympathy I had for him vanishes in the blink of an eye.

“Go find someone who cares.”

I slam the door in his face, making sure to lock it. He leans against the door, and I hear him slump down to his knees.

But I don’t find it in me to open the door and help him.

This mess might end up cleaning itself up.

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