Page 4 of Crown of Steel

But there is no more home.

It was destroyed right in front of my eyes. My dad taken to court, and then to jail.

Justicewillserve.

Those were the words the judge used. What justice? Serve who? I didn’t ask for this.

Two pairs of broad shoulders and thick arms are waiting for me at the end of the aisle, smoothed in that identical shiny garment that’s wrapped around my own limbs. Mom’s bodyguards, butlers, or whatever you want to call those people who keep the peace. They advance, blocking the exit.

“Chéri,chéri?” My mother’s panicked voice crackles through the microphone while I wrestle with the men trying to keep me from leaving. “Why don’t you go home with Amadou and Didier and get ready for the party?”

I don’t want to be at a fucking party. I don’t want to be here at all.

“Behave, please,” the bigger of the two men pleads. Amadou. He’s their usual watchdog—big, bulky and bold. He places a firm hand on my nape and squeezes, and it’s just enough to get me out of my stupor. “Don’t give them a show.” I’m surprised by the compassion in his tone.

Behind us people applaud, the sound muffled in my head as I grunt and struggle in his hold. “I know,” Amadou murmurs while tightening his grip on my wrists, before pulling them tight in the curve of my shoulder blades. My grunt becomes a wheezing protest, legs bucking when my feet are forced to pickup their walking pace and head for the big SUV parked around the corner of the castle. Our crunching steps onto gravel create a screeching sound in my mind.

I don’t want to—

“Get in the car,” the other guy, Didier, orders. He reminds me a bit of Dad with those eyes in a permanent scowl and that deep furrow on his forehead. “Please.”

I step inside and let him give me another shove until I’m right where they want me—in the back of the car like some caged animal.

“Now, put your seatbelt on before I put the child lock in place,” Didier grunts when he plants his ass on the driver's seat. His eyes land on mine through the rear mirror, as if secretly challenging me to disobey. Pursing my lips, I swallow my snark down. I won’t give him the satisfaction. Besides, I have been trapped my entire life, pushed around like some spineless fuck. Up, down, left, right, black, white, Mom, Dad. I won’t show him how his little power trip has me intimidated.

Didier’s stern look somehow transforms into tired wrinkles— like Dad’s—as it collides with mine, making my chest tighten.Let me out!I want to yell. But the words dry up in my brain, overtaken by the viscous swell of fear.

Dipping my head, I eye the fakery that is my expensive suit. The shiny jacket feels too tight around my rigid shoulders suddenly. I wriggle out of it because I need to just fucking breathe.

Agony.Homeis my penance. My head spins with the memories.

He can’t hurt you anymore.

But the words don’t give me any sense of comfort.

Amadou does, for some inexplicable reason. When he sits down on the passenger seat, speaking to someone on the phone, I relax a little. There’s something about this big guy that sets me at ease.

His muffled voice parrots short words of agreement. Responding to commands. Like the rest of us, he too must blindly obey the director of this play—the Deveraux family.

The subjugation keeps my fury alive. I make sure I never lose sight of the total domination exerted by the Deveraux’s because without my anger, there’s nothing left of me. Then I might as well rot away in the deepest corners of my mind, or in fucking Castle Monterrey.

The car slowly hobbles over the gravel toward the exit at the end of the long driveway, turning its back to the castle. We’ve barely taken off when the car suddenly stops on a squeaky brake, sand evaporating around us like sprinkles of fine dust.

Didier softly swears, but before I understand what’s going on, both back doors are opened simultaneously. My eyes flutter but I keep my gaze straight ahead. I don’t move, despite the sickening sensation of something crawling up my spine and tickling my skin with unease.

“Little rebel Régis,” one of the Deveraux twins drawls as they both get in and take a seat on either side of me.

To the untrained eye they look the same. But I can tell the difference. I canfeelthe difference. I tilt my head to the side to watch Louis pull out a bottle of drink from his jacket. “A gift from the lovely girl at the bar.” He gives me a wink, then shoots out the cap with a loud pop, followed by a fizzing sound. He puts the bottle to his lips before any liquid can shoot out, and takes a drink.

“Hmm, very good.”

Amadou watches us from over his shoulder with a scrutinizing scowl in his black eyes.

Wiping off his mouth with hand, Louis throws Amadou a kiss. “What? It’s a party, right?”

“Mister Régis is too young to drink,” Amadou clips, but no one stops Louis from handing me the bottle.

“You think I won’t take care of my little brother? Especiallysince we’ve only just met?” He gives me a cheeky grin—I’m not sure if he’s teasing or if he really cares—then murmurs, “I can’t believe they kept you a secret for so long.”

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