Alaia Finley has always lived in the safe, wealthy bubble her parents created.
Her neighbor, Benedict Grace aka Ben, couldn't be more different.
He's part of the city's most feared group, known for causing trouble.
Even though they've lived next...
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I slam the keys onto the dining table, my fucking brother looks up and stops the spoon with the milk and the Honey Loops in the air. "Who pissed you off?" Damian laughs. Does he think this is funny? I was so close to just taking Alaia at that fucking lake, marking her, showing her that she's mine. But she's too important to me to lose control. She doesn't deserve to get fucked by an asshole like me. Because if you get fucked by someone like me, I'll leave you shattered and move on. But with her? If I had to choose between dying and living, knowing that something happened to her, I'd choose to die. But the way she was in my arms when she came undone, how her lips parted, and those sweet little noises she made- I was on the edge of losing control.
I look down at my older brother. That asshole looks just like me. Tall, well-built from his daily gym training. Black hair falling into his forehead. Only he got the green eyes from our father. And I got the eyes from that bitch. The woman who thought when she had us that she could make us into little versions of her. My brother and I aren't dumb enough to believe that, but my sister? Tori is naive. Naive and young. My mother is such a narcissist that she almost named her daughter after herself? Tori. Short for Victoria. My mom probably would've called her Victoria Junior, but my father had enough sense not to let that happen.
"Forget it," I hiss at my brother and walk past him up the stairs to my room. This house is so fucking dark, this family fell apart long ago, nobody loves each other, everyone only sees the money. Except for Tori, the little one always sees the good in everyone. Laughs at every shitty situation and brings a light into the room when she enters. The rest of the family? Dead inside for a long time. My mother never loved my father, she fell in love with the money he was born into. A narcissistic woman who would sell her child for money. My father? He's always been broken; he didn't care about the money, but he used it. a lot of it. Of course, my father isn't stupid. He sees that my mother doesn't really love him. Everyone can see it. My father just goes along with it, waiting for his end. My big brother? Damian? He's just as broken as I am. He doesn't kill people to stay alive, but he despises everyone. The only thing he sees is money. You might think he's like my mother. No. Damian doesn't need anyone to use to get rich and be happy. He gets it himself. My little sister? She's been broken for a long time too, you wouldn't believe it, but she is. She may look like the perfect daughter, dancing on stage in her tutu skirt and pointe shoes, performing some white swan shows. But she's the black swan.
I throw myself backward onto my bed. I stare at the ceiling. My mind is always like a rollercoaster of hellish thoughts... but when I think of her, everything goes quiet. It sounds so fucking cheesy, but Alaia has fucked with my head. As much as I'd love to fuck her. My phone rings, the one that's been lying on my bed since the day I snapped fucking Michael West's neck, letting all the calls ring through. Most of them from Jackson, that bastard is too caring to be one of us. The guy would walk across the world if you asked him to bring pizza from Italy. He'd come back with pizza from Italy. Jackson Everhart. The man you are. A little freak. Spends his day with us, at school or in his garage playing his electric guitar and reading some books. I trust both of them. Noah and Jackson. But Jackson -he may look like a bad boy, but deep down, he's a total softie. But Noah? He looks like the typical golden retriever boyfriend who always fixes your car. But actually, he's the guy who fucks you in the backseat and then leaves you lying there all sweaty. How I love the two of them. The two are like yin and yang. Noah with his light blonde hair that's almost white, with blue eyes. Well-built. Like all of us. Jackson with his brown hair that almost reaches his neck, brown eyes. And yeah, the rumors are true. When we were 15, we tattooed ourselves with pen ink and some needles from Jackson's mom's sewing kit. Some snakes, skulls, greek numerals, and god knows what. How did we come up with the idea? My brother Damian came home at 18 fresh from the tattoo studio, new tattoos. We were so fascinated that we did it ourselves. Sounds painful? It was. But the pain felt good... pain makes your head lighter.
I reach for my phone, answering it without looking at the contact name. "What?" I growl into the receiver. "Where's your brother?" a snappy voice greets me. Lina. Fucking. Sinclair. Just right. Just like Noah Sinclair. He got two sisters, one more tolerable. The other one isn't. Lina is the one who isn't. "Downstairs," I say, annoyed. "Tell him to check his damn phone," she yells into her phone and hangs up. She can tell him herself. Bitch. I throw my phone onto the mattress, push myself up. I look at the blinds blocking the sunlight from my room. I stand up with a sigh and pull them up. I look out the window at the house next door. The house of Alaia. Oh, Alaia.. you might think if she hadn't been at that party by the racetrack that night, I'd never have noticed her. But I did, way before that. When she could barely speak and didn't know what I'd be capable of one day... just like how little I knew back then.
