Chapter 112 OVER MY DEAD FUCKING EXISTENCE, YOU FUCKER!
LUCIEN’S POINT OF VIEW.
I stared at the red note in my hand, the fresh one I’d picked from my car on my way here. I wanted to shred it, to set it ablaze, to take out my frustrations on the piece of paper, at least until I found the hands responsible for doing this.
The contents of it left me feeling confused about its meaning.
‘She’s about to be mine now… It’s only a matter of agreements.’
What the hell could that mean?
Does this fucker think Sloane’s gonna be his?
The thought drew a humourless smile from me, because I knew no one would take what’s mine from me. Fierce possessiveness flared in my chest as I flipped the note slowly, while staring at it like it was something interesting.
It really was, though.
Because for the life of me, it felt like I knew whose handwriting this was. I sent the previous note to my fingerprint expert, but as I expected, there were no prints on it. There was just something about the handwriting…it felt like I’d seen this before.
My phone dinged with a message before I could think of anything else. The name ‘Butterfly’ flashed on my screen, pulling a smile on my face instantly as I tapped the notification.
‘We need to talk.’
That made me frown… was she okay?
‘Is everything alright?’
I texted, my hands slightly shaking at the thought of something happening to her. I don’t think I’d be able to bear it if something ever happened to her… if she got hurt…if she were in danger.
My heart pounded in my ears as I felt the seconds draw out with each breath I released, waiting for her reply.
‘No, there’s a huge problem. But I’ll be at the spot soon.’
She replied, and involuntarily, my eyes flashed over to the red note with handwriting that made me question my memory. I never questioned my memory….ever.
If I saw something for even a fraction of a second, I would remember it, even if I didn’t want to.
My leg bounced against the table as I tried not to accept that it was one of my own. This handwriting….it was from one of the guys. I’d seen it when we played a poker game, and one of us scribbled something on a ripped sheet to the waitress. It’d flashed my vision, but for some reason, it felt haunting now, like a massive bell chiming in my mind backed by the force of a metal sound system.
It couldn’t be… it just couldn’t be one of my own doing this.
In a bid to rid myself of the gnawing feeling of betrayal in my mind, I rose and walked to the kitchen to pull out the marinated beef I had kept in the freezer. I realised a few weeks ago, to my horror, that I never celebrated our anniversary all these months, so I wanted to make it up to her by celebrating it today.
I sliced the meat into bite-sized chunks and placed it in the pan to cook before moving on to the pasta. In hopes that it would relax me as well, I opened the bottle of wine on the counter and took a large gulp of it.
There was no way a horseman would betray me… it just couldn’t happen.
The joint tattoo we got suddenly felt like it was burning against my skin, as I sliced the vegetables. We were a close unit of brothers, forged by a shared pain. It would just never happen.
\--
An hour later, the sound of someone flipping open the hatch had me looking at the ladder, until the sight of blonde hair had me rising from the kitchen stool.
“Hey, baby,” I said, my voice raspy as I walked over to her. Fixing a kiss which I wanted to deepen on her lips, I groaned at the familiar contact and wrapped my hands around her body.
“Hey, Lucien. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yeah…you said so,” I replied, trying not to let the earlier panic gnaw at me, as the sudden feeling of betrayal crept in. “What is it? You wanna eat first?”
I asked, but in reality, I was trying to prolong this. For some reason, it felt like my mind would not comprehend what she would say.
“No, I think I’ll just say it.” She said, her eyes sad, as she gripped onto my hands softly, but at the same time, it felt like her hold was strong, like she was trying to comfort me. “My father… he said something tonight which really bothered me. It was about some merger which would require an alliance.”
She stopped and flashed me a worried look, but all I could do was blink at her as the impending feeling of betrayal grew even stronger.
I held my breath as I shrugged my shoulders in readiness for what she would say next.
“It has to do with….my alliance….my marriage.”
Before I could stop myself, I chuckled, “What does that mean? They want us to get married. If that’s the case, we can do that.”
“No, Lucien. That’s not it.” She bit her lip, her eyes moving around the room suddenly as she tried to avoid my gaze. “Killian.”
‘What?”
“They want me to marry Killian.”
For a full three minutes, I didn’t move, or blink, or speak. Hell, I don’t even think I fucking breathed. All I felt during those minutes was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
But the second the last sixty seconds passed, the rage which barged through my mind felt like that of a fucking bull.
“My friend Killian?” I asked, my voice low, as I smiled humourlessly.
She doesn’t say anything, she just nods.
“I think he might not have meant it, though, even though it’s said that he and his father were the ones who sent the proposal.”
“His father.” I laughed, that motherfucker would never do that; at least not while being six fucking feet into the ground. “This is so fucking funny.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but her eyes darted to something on the table beside us.
The red note.
“Lucien… where did you get that?” Her eyes are full of shock as she stares at me with a horrified expression.
“Some fucker, even though I think I know who it was now, was foolish to put that in my car, as well as the shower of my private locker room.”
“You’ve been getting this as well? Who the hell could be behind this for fucks sake?”
“As well?” I asked, my heart pounding with the need to break that fucker’s teeth. He sent these to Sloane, too?
Killian, you crazy bastard.
“Yeah….in my locker yesterday, but I threw it away.”
If this bastard thinks he's about to go scot free after this bull shit, he’s so fucked. I’ll eat with my girl tonight, but after that, Killian Lemaire’s gonna know the fucking consequences for fucking with what’s mine.
A marriage?
Over my dead fucking existence.