Page 81 of Reckless Rebel

“Fun’s over, Pretty Boy, it’s time to sort yourself out.” She has a trash bag in her hand as she starts picking up empty bottles of booze from the floor. Elle King, always everyone’s saviour, why can’t she just let me be, I don’t want to be fucking saved.

“Get out!” I pull the duvet over my head in an attempt to ignore their presence but not even three-seconds later it’s ripped away from me.

“You either get out of this bed on your own, or I will drag you, your choice.” Her voice holds steady as she stares down at me with an angry concerned look in her eye. She might be half my size and a third of my weight, but she isn’t someone I want to throw down with, not unless I feel like embarrassing myself.

I huff as I drag my pounding head from my pillow and force myself to sit up, the room is spinning and I am definitely drunk, but she nods slightly like she has won this round and carries on tidying up the mess of my room. Once all the rubbish is clear, she loads the laundry hamper with my dirty clothes, and then they really start ransacking. Each of them checks every inch of my room for more contraband, confiscating anything they come across.

When Elle finds clear bags of pills she looks disgusted, “Why, Pretty Boy?” She holds them up in a questioning gesture, “Where did you even get these?” I don’t mean to rat him out but I can’t help my gaze from straying over to Linc, and she follows my gaze her silent disappointment is met with no regret.

“It was either me or someone else.” Is all he responds to her.

“If you are quite done trashing my room, you can leave,” I snark sarcastically, and now it’s Marcus who answers me.

“Show some respect,” he grits, “None of us deserve your shitty attitude, least of all her.” I know he’s right, but with the way I feel it’s hard to give a fuck.

“Well, if you’d let me wallow into nothing in peace you wouldn’t have to deal with my shitty attitude.” I stand from the bed and stumble slightly due to my intoxication, my hand reaches out to grab my bedside table to stop myself from falling.

“No,” Elle shouts, dropping the filled trash bag to the floor.

“No?” I repeat in confusion, trying to straighten and look at her with a straight face.

“That’s right.” She steps up to me, “No, you aren’t doing this anymore, not on my watch, not on theirs.” I go to look at my brothers, but she drags my chin back to look down at her. “We have been through fucking hell, Jace, you know it, I know it, but not anymore, I won’t allow it. You need to pull yourself together and work out your shit.” She pushes my face away from her and moves to walk away.

Before I can open my mouth to refute her she turns back and adds on,”Tonight is the launch night for The Kennedy Foundation and you will be there, sober, or do you want to disappoint Taylor even more than you already have?”

I think I would have preferred to have been stabbed with her blade than hear those words from her. She doesn’t wait for my answer, just nods towards Marcus and he follows her out of the room, leaving Lincoln and I alone.

“I suppose you want to give me shit as well?” I pull a smoke from next to the bed and light it up as Lincoln remains silent. I inhale deeply and try to move towards the window but stumble again so Lincoln has to move to help keep me up right.

“Come on, you need to get cleaned up and dressed before Elle comes back and uses that black blade of hers on both of us.” His tone is almost playful, if my impassive brother would ever be such a thing, I wonder if anyone can crack that hard shell of his?

As we enter the bathroom and I am once again helped into the shower I can’t help but ask, “How do you do it, Linc, how do you handle the darkness?”

He pauses as his hand reaches out to turn the shower dials before he sighs, “I didn’t handle the darkness, Jace, I became it.” He has never shared the full story of what happened with his parents but I know it’s bad. “Don’t be like me, hold onto your light and let it pull you back, before it’s too late.” He turns on the shower as I slump into the shower seat still fully clothed and contemplate what the fuck I am doing with this thing I call a life.

* * *

Two hours later, I am dressed and making my way down the stairs sober, or as sober as I could become in that space of time. When I reach the bottom I find everyone heading out to the hired cars for the evening. Helen, Arthur, Lily, and Logan climb into the first one with Zack, and then Elle, Cassie, Asher, and Lincoln climb into the second as Marcus hangs back to wait for me.

“You good?” He asks as I make my way over and I offer him a one shoulder shrug. He sighs, looking towards the open door where his perfect life is waiting for him before he looks back to me. “You need to decide if it’s worth it.”

“If what’s worth it?” I ask, ignoring the despair and worry on his face.

His hand reaches out to squeeze my shoulder, “Everything, brother.”

As soon as we get to the party I am greeted with a sea of fucking bullshit elitists, I grab a glass of champagne from the passing waiter, ignoring the look of death Elle sends my way. If she wants me to get through this then she will have to let me numb the pain at least a little.

I watch as people greet her and Asher with fake smiles and stacked cheque books, probably not giving a single fuck about what charity they are even donating to, or what it’s for. It makes me realize how out of the loop I am. What work have they even been doing with her foundation? I look towards the main table set up, zoning in on Taylor’s portrait sitting front and center. She looks as beautiful as she always did, that flawless smile in place, and those green eyes that stare right into your soul. God if she could see me now.

Her picture is surrounded by anecdotes from victims and survivors of all sorts of sex crimes, from rape to human trafficking, the lucky ones who made it to the other side of their trauma. Taylor wasn’t one of them, but at least her name can live on and do some good. I toss back another glass of champagne wishing it was something stronger and as I turn around and let my eyes track around the rest of the room, I see her. Riley.

She looks like a goddamn siren in an emerald green dress with her red hair, like my own Poison Ivy come to life. Our eyes lock and I move on instinct, forgetting she is no longer mine, that she never was, but a firm grip on my arm keeps me in place. “I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

The anger burns through me as I cock my head and stare down at him, “Get your hand off me, Dick, before I break your fingers.”

He sneers but his grip falls from my arm as I pull away from him, “You really can’t stand the fact that I got that virgin cunt first, can you? Fuck it was so sweet, Conrad, I really liked her blood on my cock.”

I turn to walk away, biting my tongue so hard in an attempt to ignore him that I taste the metallic taste in my mouth. Riley is zoned in on our interaction as he continues, “You like blood on your cock too, don’t you, Rebel, didn’t you fuck the dead chick this party is for? Seems she hated your dick so much that she got herself killed to escape you.”

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