Page 5 of Heavy is the Crown
“You guys are the worst,” Arcanna says. She flips over and pushes her long onyx hair over her shoulder as she stands. Despite the drugs, her hazel eyes are much clearer than my brother’s, or even Oisin’s. Her leggings cling to her muscular legs and the tiny slip of exposed stomach hints at defined abs. “You treat Ava like she’s a fucking child, Jax. She’s barely younger than you.”
“You might be the only one who remembers that, Arcanna,” I mutter.
She passes me a bottle of beer as the boys move to sit down on the long couch. I take a long sip of it and smile at her appreciatively. She is who I want to be. She doesn’t back down, doesn’t take shit from my brother or Oisin, and most importantly, she has her future wide open for her. No expectations placed on her at her birth.
“It’s not like I haven’t been following you guys for this long anyway.” I pull myself from the safety of my wall and sit cross-legged on the old carpet. This place was once beautiful, a testament of how my father felt for my mother. He built her the lake house when he was courting her, and if she can be believed when she’s drinking, they spent years being blissfully in love here. Until they weren’t. Now, the old house sits abandoned beside a lake that no one dares come to anymore. The houses here were built before Hell was what it is now, before the glittering spectacle of clubs and slot machines took over. It was a simpler time.Probably boring as fuck, too.
Everyone thinksthisis what I want. A simple life. All because I haven’t fallen into the narrative of the party girl, not like my brother. His reputation of being a playboy party prince is allover Hell. He’s at a different club every weekend with Oisin and Arcanna in tow. I’ve managed to go in with them a small handful of times, but Jax makes sure no one actually sees me with them. I’m not even sure they know what I want. That sitting by the lake getting high sounds awful and I would much rather be at a club drowning in music and dancing.
I’m pulled back into the conversation by a loud barking laugh from my brother. The room has grown even hazier since I let my mind wander. I watch as Jax lets Oisin drape himself across his lap, and a small pit grows in my stomach. I want to feel someone's hands on me. I want to be able to lose myself in my friends. I want to not feel like I’m fucking suffocating.
(“Cobra (Rock Remix) [feat. Spirit Box]” – Megan Thee Stallion)
Jackson inviting me to hang out with them has emboldened me to make choices some might say are poor, or risky. That taste of freedom was like a hit of Eufori straight to my veins, though, and I can’t resist looking for that high again. Which is how I currently find myself wearing skintight black leather pants, high boots, and a tight leather jacket as I sit atop my brother’s black Ducati with the visor of the helmet securely down to hide my silver eyes and blonde hair.
Hell’s street races are legendary. Not just because of the type of cars that race but because of how dangerous they are. Hundreds of people race in a single evening, but not that many make it back over the finish line. It’s also the only time people can race the future king of Hell. At least once a week, Jax, Oisin, and Arcanna are here, joining in on one or two of the races. Jax either races his bike, which thankfully, heconveniently left at home tonight, or his all-matte-black Subaru STI. Even from here, I can see him leaning against the driver's side door smoking his cigarette and laughing. Oisin stands near him sipping a beer. He never races, only rides along with Jax or watches from the side.
Arcanna’s red Dodge Demon is parked next to Jax, but I can’t spot her anywhere. Both have already participated this evening and now preside over the rest of the races. My brother looks happy, looks peaceful. He looksnormal. The green-eyed monster that is jealousy floods my brain and I suddenly hate my brother for getting to have this life. Regardless of how misplaced that anger is, it’s still there. The rational side of me knows it’s my parents who did this, not him. But the rational side has taken a backseat tonight, and that draw of freed burns thick in my veins, which is why when I hear the call for the bikes to line up, I don’t second guess following a few others over to the starting line that is dangerously close to my brother.
(“You’ve Created a Monster” – Bohnes)
Arguably, the bike races are the most dangerous, the most likely for me to end up dead on the side of the road. Cars offer some protection. Bikes don’t. Which is why I try to push the bike into the center of the pack, to obscure his view of the bike he will surely recognize for as long as possible.
“Let’s get ready, riders!” the man at the front yells as two women in bikinis walk forward. Their job is always the same, to signal the start of the race. As if seeing half-naked women will really get the racers ready to go. I grip the handlebars hard and feel sweat starting to drip down my back. I glance nervously over to my brother, who is still distracted, and see Arcanna has appeared next to her car.
“Fuck,” I breathe under my helmet as she looks directly at me, her eyes narrowing briefly before they flare wide with recognition. “Shit, shit, shit.”
She pushes toward my brother, and I see her yell his name and point toward me. His silver eyes swing to me at the exact moment the signal to go sounds. He pushes off his car, his magic gathering around him. I fumble with the bike but manage to take off, the air filled with the scent of exhaust. A glance in my side mirror shows him now standing in the middle of the road, looking absolutely furious with me.
If I survive this race, I may not survive my brother.
THREE
There are a variety of shifters in Gothic Grove. Wolves make up the largest population. Dragons, having only recently immigrated, make up a small portion. But the dragons should never be underestimated.
– Carmine Family Grimoire
Two Years Later
Drago
“Drago!” Shadow’s slurred voice and hand reaching for me snaps my resolve to play the long game against Julien. I manage to kill one vampire and two of Julien’s people before he stabs me from behind with some sedating drug. It’s the only way he’s able to subdue me. My body drops down and I can see the tears coming from Shadow now as he watches me fail at saving him. I watch as the remaining vampires drag my mate away from me. My world starts to dim, the drugs pulling me under. But before they do, I make a vow with myself that I will slaughter them all.
The punch impacts my left side, directly into my ribs. I grunt, pain flaring, and stagger back, until I feel the cool metal of the chain-link fence hit my exposed skin. My mind is pulled from the memory abruptly. Jeers from the crowd come roaring into my awareness as I heave in a breath, expanding those freshly broken ribs courtesy of the shifter in front of me. The wolf, a former member of the Primal Knights MC, looks smug as he spits blood onto the dirty floor of the ring.
Somewhere in the crowd, my stepfather is watching, taking on bets on the outcome of the fight. Two long years, I’ve been his little puppet, helping him build his kingdom. Two long years,hehas been stuck in that fucking prison. Every time I hear a story about his dragon, my heart breaks thinking of what he is being put through. Sometimes, I regret trying to save him that day because it ultimately put me on Julien’s radar, revealing that I was not loyal to him. It put my mother on his radar. But my mother is gone now, and all bets are off.
His time will come. We will rip his heart out with our bare hands. He’s grown soft. Lazy. His dragon is barely awake now. He’s lost his power, my dragon rumbles, sleepy and slow from the drugs they give us to keep from shifting while we fight. Otherwise, no one would step in the ring with me. A smile ghosts my lips. They think having my dragon and magic locked away means I’m less dangerous. I’m still the most powerful person here.
The wolf in front of me rushes forward, our small break over. The sound of the bell ringing and screams of the crowd are now loud in my ears. The ring is nothing but a chain-link fence placed in a circle on old wrestling mats, the venue itself an old warehouse that should have been condemned long ago—half its roof is rotting away. But every Thursday, the fights are held here. And every Thursday, I win. According to my stepfather, I should lose this fight tonight. He bet against my undefeated streak.But I’m not losing tonight, no. The king is going to be toppled, and tonight is the start of it. I’ve spent my years planning and building my own empire, all for this moment.
It’s time to bring my mate home. Even if I have to burn this whole gods forsaken city to the ground and drag his body through the ashes, I’m bringing him home.
Ava
(“I Can’t Stop” – Flux Pavilion)
The party sounds cascade around me, a symphony of chaos. The air is thick with the scents of chlorine and alcohol, wafting up from the pool deck into the giant mansion. Every window is thrown open, every door unlocked and beckoning partygoers to go to and from. The air vibrates with the bass coming from the speakers; a live DJ presides over the dance floor. Standing back from it all, I observe and sip from my drink.
