The Kingston's were always more than a family.
They were a dynasty-ruling New York from the shadows, with power flowing through their veins for generations. Nothing happened in their city without their knowledge or control. It was a legacy of power...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
―✧˖° ♛ °˖✧―
"Vivamus atque amemus." Let us live and let us love
―✧˖° ♛ °˖✧―
Bridget Kingston
"You're so annoying. I can't stand you sometimes."
Reese's sharp New York accent sliced through the air, her words echoing down the halls and breaking the stillness that had settled over the house.
"You're just mad that I'm the comedic relief in this house, and you're the villain," Beckett shot back, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.
From our spot on the couch, Elian, Louis, and I exchanged wide-eyed glances. We hadn't heard a peep from either of them for hours, not since they got back from their doctor appointments. Yesterday, the two of them had seemed inseparable, always side by side, sharing private jokes and looks that the other just seemed to understand. Now, they looked ready to tear each other apart.
Reese brushed past Beckett without giving him the satisfaction of a reply. She barely acknowledged us as she strode toward the kitchen, her sharp gaze flicking over us like we were background furniture.
I didn't know what to make of it. They'd both come home earlier looking... off. Beckett had stormed up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time, his jaw clenched so tight I thought it might crack. He didn't even look at us before disappearing into his room. A second later, his door slammed shut so hard it rattled the walls.
Reese had been quieter but no less unsettling. Her hood was up, casting her face in shadows, and she seemed more interested in her phone than anything around her. She'd floated past us like a ghost, her footsteps light and quick, as if she didn't want anyone to notice her.
Even Vaughn, who came home last, seemed different. Normally, my oldest brother radiated this intimidating, untouchable confidence, like nothing could ruffle him. But today, there was something off. His suit was as sharp as ever, not a single wrinkle in sight, and his hair was perfectly combed back, but his face looked... tired. Not in a messy, just-got-off-a-long-flight kind of way, but in a deeper, heavier way, like he was carrying something too big to set down.
We hadn't seen any of them since. The rest of us had stayed in the sitting room all afternoon, pretending the strange tension in the house wasn't bothering us. We'd thrown on a movie, the same way we had the last few days since we arrived. But it felt different now. Reese and Beckett had this way of filling the house, their personalities so loud and commanding that you couldn't ignore them, even when they weren't in the room.
And now they were back, descending the stairs in full argument mode. Reese looked cold and sharp, her movements precise, like she was cutting through the air with every step. Beckett was the exact opposite—wild and loose-limbed, with a grin on his face that dared her to react.
