Page 110 of Unspoken Truths

“My parents are coming home for a few days,” Elijah sighs. “I just know I’m going to get the riot act about something or other.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong,” I grumble. “Your grades are really good, rugby is over.”

“You know that doesn’t mean shit to them,” he says. “I’ll probably be off the grid for a few days. I’m done with my exams, so school is over for me.”

“Good luck,” Theo says, grimacing.

Of all of us, Elijah’s parents are the worst. That’s saying something when Nacio’s father regularly kills people for a living. The four of us say goodbye and drive home.

I’m flying high on both my achievements, and the knowledge that the little mouse is pushed thoroughly into the muck. Sometimes, I don’t even have to get dirty in order to get what I want.

* * *

Elijah

I hate coming home.It’s not as bad when my parents are traveling, but they’re going to be home for God only knows how long. Mom said their contracts were signed, business was completed, and that they were coming home from Europe.

I wish they would stay out there.

Parking my car in the garage, I see that all of the vehicles are here. This includes the driver’s car, which means he already picked them up from the airport and then fucked off. Closing the garage door, I let myself into the house, taking a deep breath.

I can handle whatever they have to say. Every cutting remark. I’ll survive it.

“Hello?” I call out, knowing my parents always complain that I’m too damn quiet.

It’s part of why I do it, skulking in the dark is typically safer.

“In the kitchen,” my mom calls out as I walk through the house to her. My backpack is still in the car, my keys in my pocket.

Even as I’m getting closer to my parents, I’m still planning my exit. How fucked is that?

“Welcome home,” I murmur, seeing them sitting at the large island, eating off a fancy cheese plate as they hang out. They’re the perfect couple.

Ruthless, willing to push back when they’re not getting their way, and respectful enough of the other not to get their panties in a twist if it doesn’t go their way. I don't know how they manage it, but I’ve never seen them yell at each other.

“Thank you,” Dad says. “Done with exams?”

He knows my schedule, which means it’s small talk. We both hate this part of seeing each other.

“Yes, it all went well,” I reassure them as I remain standing.

“Perfect,” Mom says with a sweet smile.

They’re being really weird…

“Why is that perfect?” I ask her, confused.

“You’re able to take a little trip with us to see what you’ll be taking over once you graduate at Carlysle Prep. Of course, you’ll attend college for appearances, but I think you’ve been living in oblivion for long enough,” she says.

“In oblivion of the shipping container business?” I ask.

Large hands grasp my upper arms, keeping me immobile as Mom smiles grimly, pulling out a needle from her purse. Why the fuck is she just keeping something like that there?!

Jesus Christ, God in heaven. I don’t think I’m going to get out of whatever is happening here.

“In the people business, silly,” Mom says as I begin to struggle against the mammoth goon behind me.

“You know I enjoy fucking people of a certain age,” Dad says. “Your grandfather and I built this business so others could also enjoy the same pleasure. We procure the best inventory, and then ship it all over the world.”

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