Page 19 of Hearts Held
No emotion. He has no emotion or feeling. I never would have thought the man I met that night in the Den, would be the man sitting before me. The leader of some thugs.
After what feels like several minutes, the room becomes much colder despite it only being fall.
Everett stands, looking me up and down. Embarrassment creeps across my face, for he’s probably judging my disheveled state the way their mother did.
He finally speaks. “You seem tense, nurse. Why don’t you get a massage?”
“What?” I mutter softly. A massage? Is he fucking kidding me? I shout these remarks and he offers a massage? Is he mad?
His large hand, waves everyone out of the room. A few men glare angrily at me as they leave. One brushes past me and knocks into my shoulder, nearly making me lose my balance.
“For fuck sake, don’t be a dick,” Bobby yells at the man.
My confidence deflates and I look to the ground.
“Oi,” Bobby whispers, “this ain’t bad. You ain’t gonna die.”
“You’ll be getting a massage tomorrow and another one after, to relieve some of the tension from your work-life imbalance. As for the boys, they have the souls of warriors and many of them have a story, a reason, a why behind how they became one of us. Back stories no one would wish on anybody. That burn is to show others they are protected by us and to show they are a part of our family. We are loyal to them and they are loyal to us,” he calmly explains, still no emotion on his face.
Bobby leans into my ear. “Let’s go now.”
We turn to leave, then Everett’s icy voice licks down my spine. “Brielle. Thank you for patching up my men. They have only positive reviews.”
Chapter 6: Everett
Bad Things, I Prevail
The throbbing ache of my migraine settles to the front of my head as I walk toward my office.
Today we are supposed to confront my brother Frederick for stealing goods and money from our various businesses, the main one being the Den.
His fuck-ups irritate me. He feels entitled to everything our family has yet puts in no effort or work. He is the middle child and thus, I believe, has “middle-child syndrome,” as they call it.
Our family consists of many members. There’s our mother, Louisa, who trusts no one and holds resentment over the slightest inconveniences. Our fatherpassed away right after I came home, battered from the war, and left me to inherit the lead role in the Adders.
The birthing order went as follows:
Kenneth, the oldest. He’s the accountant, refined and conservative.
Then myself.
Then Douglas, may he rest in peace; the war took him from us.
Then Frederick, the fuck-up, who avoided the war draft. Frederick who walks around town like he owns the place but never contributes to the family. Frederick the entitled ass-wipe who’s lucky I hold Kenneth back from excommunicating him from the family and this realm.
Then the twins, Gregory and Jacob; they are identical. Which comes in handy because we faked Jacob’s death during the war. Everyone assumes there are only five of us Adders still living, yet there are six. Having a family member that faked their death comes in handy for reconnaissance against our enemies.
Then the baby, Robert—or Bobby. The sweetheart of the group—luckily Baba gave him her personality, rather than him absorbing the poisonous characterof our mother. He has such a wild imagination, is playful—the war didn’t taint his soul like it did Kenneth’s and mine. Considering it ended right when he was going to basic training.
I nod at the receptionist as I approach my office. Peering over at the adder tank, noticing the reptiles pay no attention to the people that pass them by. Interestingly enough, I could stick my hands in there and the snakes wouldn’t mind.
Baba says she blessed my spirit to appease the snakes so they don’t strike me. Maybe some of her Viking hoodoo does work, for I have dunked my hand in there numerous times when others were not looking, just to test her claim. To see if the gods would relieve me from living on this fucking godforsaken Earth. Relieve me of my duties, my nightmares, the demons that haunt my soul. Baba has asked to bless me, to remove my torturous nightmares, but I refuse. I’ll disassociate and deal with my bullshit on my own. It is no one else’s burden to carry.
Entering my office, I find Kenneth, Lloyd and Lyle all awaiting in the black leather chairs. I dislike that thereceptionist allowed them in instead of having them wait in the lobby.
I glance around to make sure they haven’t touched anything; everything appears to be in the right order. I mostly trust them, but my cynical ass doesn’t trust anyone or anything one hundred percent, not even family.
The small bar that I only keep for guests remains untouched, the bottles containing the same levels of alcohol as the last time I was in here.
