Page 3 of Beautifully Broken
Step Three. End the waste of space known as Carson Wilson.
I have been waiting for this day for the past decade. Now that it has come, I feel as if I can finally breathe for the first time in years.
3650, the number of days without my Ivy. Every single one being more excruciating than the last.
Ten years ago, Carson forced me into an ultimatum that I had no choice but to take. If not, it meant death for the girl who wrapped ivy around my heart and refused to let go.
Looking back, I should have just killed him at that moment, but I was eighteen, addicted to heroin, and had nothing to my name. Killing Carson would have orphaned Ivy and left her with a version of me that was knocking at death's door. Thinking I was giving her a chance at a happy life, I chose to leave.
Clearly, I was wrong. But if I’ve learned anything in the last ten years, it's not to let myself dwell on the past and only focus on what I can change in the present.
With that in mind, I drain the last of my Red Bull and shove the can into my pants pocket, making my way toward the growing house party.
As soon as I step out of the tree line, the smell of weed hits my nose.
Jeez Carson. If you’re going to host a party, at least get the good shit.
No one spares me a look when I step inside the two-story house and I don’t bother concealing my identity. I want Carson and his protectors to know I’m here.
The room is packed to the brim, filled with people chasing a high that I once killed for.
A woman who is high on anything but life falls into me. My hands grasp her shoulder and I slip the strap of her barely there top back in place. Her wide, glassy eyes stare up at me and a smile spreads across my face.
Oh, sweetie, you’re the perfect pawn in my wild game of chaos.
Brushing her messy, black hair behind her ear, I lower my head and whisper, “Why, hello there.”
The woman’s hazy stare meets mine, and she smiles. “Hiii.”
Damn. She is toasted. Looks like this is going to be easier than I thought.
“Wanna do me a big favor?”
Excitement spreads over her face, and she looks at me with the curiosity of a puppy. “Yes. You’re hot. Do I get rewarded for doing this favor?” Her manicured finger trails down my shirt and I catch it before it reaches my waistband.
“Thanks, sweetie. I appreciate the compliment, andfortunately, I am spoken for.” Her shoulders deflate. “But I can promise you it will be worth your while.” As my words trail off, I hold up a baggie of white powder I snagged from the back pocket of some dude who was tongue deep in a girl when I walked in.
Poor guy didn’t even notice.Oh well.
Her excitement returns, and she nods enthusiastically.
Spinning her around, I grasp her hand in mine and point toward the pool table in the center of the crowded room. “Okay. All you have to do is go up to that table and start giving a little show. Take off as much as you want, but be sure everyone is looking at you. Do whatever you have to do to make sure everyone here knows you are the star of the show.”
Without hesitation, the woman takes the baggie and walks over to the table. No one pays her any attention as she empties the contents of the bag onto the table and snorts the line, as if it's her day job, then hops on the table.
In a flash, she whips off her shirt, her pierced, tasseled breasts on display for the entire room. Everyone flocks to the shirtless woman like a moth to a flame and I take that as my cue to leave.
Scanning the room, I look for any sign of Ivy, Carson, or his protectors, but come up empty-handed.
I’m about to make my way up the second floor when a door opens to my right, revealing stairs leading to a basement.
She has to be down here. I can feel it in my bones.
My foot hits the first wooden stair just as all hell breaks loose. Screams echo up the stairs and gunshots ring in the air.
What the fuck?
I need to get to Ivy right now.
