Page 46 of Claimed By A Blue Eyed Menace

I believed him.

With slow, shaky steps, I moved toward the couch, lowering myself onto it hesitantly. My fingers curled around the fabric of my sweatpants as I tried to regulate my breathing, tried to ignore the way my hands trembled. Shooter rolled his neck, letting out a long, controlled breath before making his way to the bar. He grabbed a bottle of Remy, poured himself a shot, then downed it in one go.

The silence stretched, and I hated how uncertain everything felt. How every moment stretched into something unbearable, how I didn’t know if I should be bracing myself to fight or preparing to beg for my life. Shooter didn’t look at me right away. He just poured himself another shot, then turned slowly, leaning against the counter as his icy gaze finally locked onto me.

I swallowed hard. The weight of his stare was suffocating, and he didn’t say a single word. He just watched me, and I sat there, waiting. Dreading. Wondering what the fuck was coming next.

Shooter

I d r a g g e d ahand down my face, exhaling slowly through my nose. The silence between us was thick, like smoke curling around the room, choking out the space between us. Parker sat on the couch, arms crossed, legs pulled up under her, but her body was rigid.

I was pissed and frustrated. For two fucking days, I let her have space. Two fucking days, I let her think she could just up and leave me, block me, disappear like what we had—what we were—meant nothing. And to top it off, she left that damn USB sitting in my living room like a motherfucking bomb waiting to go off. I knew we were about to have it out, and honestly, I was looking forward to it.

I rolled my neck, popping the tension there, before fixing my eyes on her. “You done playin’ house with your little friend?” My voice came out even, but there was a razor-sharp edge to it.

Parker scoffed. “You really kidnapped me, Sebastian.”

I huffed out a dry laugh. “Yeah? And?” I leaned against the bar, rubbing a slow hand over my beard. “You really thought you could run from me? That’s what you thought?”

Her jaw clenched. “I needed space.”

“You needed space,” I repeated mockingly, shaking my head. “You needed space, so you left me a USB with a post-it like that shit wasn’t gon’ send me over the fuckin’ edge.” Her lips pressed together, but she didn’t back down. I pushed off the bar, stepping closer. “You don’t run from me, Mrs. Mosley. That’s not how this shit works.”

She let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Oh, back to this. Can’t leave, can’t have my own thoughts, can’t fucking breathe without you controlling it.”

I narrowed my eyes, my blood heating. “You can breathe just fine, but what you can’t do is act like what we got ain’t real.”

She sucked in a sharp breath but recovered fast. “It had potential until I found out who the hell I was married to.”

That made me laugh. A slow, humorless chuckle as I stared her down. “You knew exactly who the fuck you married.” I tilted my head, watching the way her throat bobbed. “You just didn’t think you’d ever have to face the truth.”

Her nostrils flared. “The truth?” She shook her head, gripping the fabric of her sweatpants. “The truth, Shooter, is that you killed your own brother.”

Silence.

Her words hung between us, venom laced in every syllable. I let the weight of them settle, let her sit in the silence of what she said before I moved. I dropped down in front of her, elbows resting on my knees, blue eyes locked onto hers. She flinched, but she didn’t move away.

“You think I wanted to do that?” My voice was low, quiet. Deadly.

Parker held her chin high, but there was uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t know what you wanted.”

I inhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “You think Silas was innocent?” She hesitated. “I get it,” I said after a moment, nodding slightly. “Silas had a good act. Always been good at playin’ the part of the golden boy. The “better” brother. The one who didn’t get his hands dirty.” I let out a slow breath, my tone darkening. “But you don’t know him like I did.”

Parker shifted. “Then tell me. Tell me what the fuck he did that was so bad you had to take him out.”

I studied her face, searching for something—anything—that would tell me if she was actually ready to hear the truth. Fuck it. I sat back on my heels, rolling my shoulders before speaking.

“Silas was workin’ with the Feds.” Her eyes flickered, but she said nothing, so I kept going. “He was buildin’ a case against me. Against my father. Against our whole fuckin’ operation.” My lip curled. “While you were sittin’ here thinkin’ he was some innocent motherfucka, he was workin’ with them to bring our shit down.”

Parker’s brows pinched together. “Why?”

I shook my head, exhaling sharply. “Because Silas never wanted this life.” I leaned in, lowering my voice. “He wanted to destroy us. All of us.”

She swallowed hard. “You’re telling me your own brother wanted you in prison?”

I nodded once. “Me and Seth.” My jaw ticked. “The night before I handled it, I found out he had a whole deal lined up. He was gon’ testify, Parker. He was gon’ sit in that little box in court, point his finger, and put us in a fuckin’ cell for life.” She went still. I didn’t let up. “You think I wanted to kill my own blood? You think I wanted to be the one to pull that trigger? “But what the fuck was I supposed to do? Let him put me away? Let him hand over everything niggas built?”

She stayed quiet, her fingers tightening in her lap. I dragged my hand down my face. “It wasn’t about choices, Parker. It was about survival.”

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