The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Eighty-One

The resemblance is uncanny.

Brilliant blue eyes, slicked-back blond hair, and a wide, wicked smile.... a trait the Hendrix men seem to all have. Standing above me is a man whose face is nearly identical to Charlie's, except there are crow's feet at the edge of his eyes and obvious laugh lines around his bearded mouth. A brutal cough wheezes out of me when I open my mouth to speak.

Silently, he hands me a bottle of water after cracking the lid open. As he watches me, I watch him back. This must be the myth, the man, the legend, and I hate to admit I'm terrified.

Shivers trickle down my spine the longer he stares, but I continue to meet his gaze levelly. I won't let him intimidate him. If he knows I'm afraid, he wins and I have no intention of letting this man—whoever he is—win.

I've been here for three days.

Outside of the occasional greeting, he doesn't speak. Not when he brings me water or food. Not when I awake and I find him sitting near the footboard.

This stranger enjoys the dark. He sits in it, partially concealed by the dim light swinging from the ceiling of my concrete cell, wearing a dark smile full of promise. In the silence, we wait for the other to break, to speak.

When the sun rises on the fourth day, shining through the hollow bars of a window, he finally cracks.

"Not a word for three days?" Deeper than I was expecting, his voice echoes.

This bedroom is nearly barren. Outside of the crappy metal bed I'm chained to, a narrow end table with an old lamp and a TV that's clearly seen better days, there's nothing else to occupy the time. I resist the urge to fight my restraints and focus on the crawling time with mathematics and quantum theory.

I don't respond.

"Do you know who I am?"

Slowly, I tilt my head to the side and raise an eyebrow. No, I don't know who he is, but I can make an educated guess. He looks so much like Charlie and Bane, it would be a hard sell to say he is anyone but their father.

"My name is Jasper Hendrix," his smile makes my skin crawl, "but I'd wager you'd already know that. Am I right, sweetheart?"

The nickname is the straw to break the camel's back.

"I'm not your sweetheart."

"Oh? So she speaks? Good."

Rolling my eyes, I shift under the chain's weight, knocking the steel cable to the ground. The resounding clang is a rowdy, cacophonous mess, and it makes me want to cover my ears, but I don't. Instead, I grind my teeth and focus on his analytical gaze.

It climbs me incessantly, and I hate it. I hate him.

"What do you want, Jasper Hendrix?"

"Bane is right."

Reluctantly, I take the bait.

"About what?"

"You're absolutely gorgeous." He slips closer, bold enough to claim a spot near my foot at the base of the bed. "I can understand why my son is utterly consumed with you."

Utterly consumed? If he were utterly consumed, then he wouldn't have lied to me. You don't lie to the people you love.

"You didn't bring me here as a present to Charlie. You want something. How about you stop pretending to give a rat's ass about my relationship with your son, and tell me what you want?"

"Upset?" His disgusting smile widens. "Good. I can work with that."

Jasper raises his hand and knocks on the door behind his head. It creaks open and a familiar man walks in. Bane.