Claimed By Four

Aria

That day, I should have been celebrating and eating cake with my boyfriend for my eighteenth birthday like any other normal girl.

But a bullet shot at me that turned my world upside down forever.

Earlier that afternoon, I was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the cream stains left after the party by my stepsister, Sophie.

But that was any ordinary day for me. I was always treated as the maid in my own home, mocked by Sophie and her friends. It had been like this for years; pretty much for as long as I could remember.

The stain was almost cleaned up now, though. I’d been working at it for ages, trying to keep it from setting into the carpet at the base of the stairs. Soon, I would be able to go out and meet my boyfriend so we could celebrate my eighteenth birthday.

Or so I thought.

“Oops!”

I didn’t have a chance to react before it happened. Sophie and her two friends had just come barreling down the stairs like a typhoon. In their carelessness, one of them violently kicked the bucket I was using, sending soapy water flying everywhere.

For a moment, I just stared at the fresh mess. The carpet was soaked with dirty water. The wallpaper was already stained with soap suds. Even my clothes and hair were destroyed. And I had been so close to finishing my chores.

Slowly, I looked up into the sneering face of Sophie’s friend. She pressed her fingers over her mouth and gasped softly as if she didn’t just do that on purpose. “My bad. Looks like the maid is gonna have to start over,” she said, resulting in the others giggling behind her.

I’d had enough. It had been building up all day, like a kettle about to boil. It was my birthday, dammit, and I was going to celebrate! I stood and untied my apron, throwing it on the floor at their feet.

“I’m done cleaning. I’m going out with Daniel and I’m eating the cake I bought.”

Sophie and her friends snickered behind me as I stormed into the kitchen and grabbed the cake out of the fridge that I’d purchased with my savings. It was small, really no more than a cupcake, but it was my favorite—chocolate with peanut butter icing. It was decadent and beautiful and the one thing in this house that was truly mine.

But Sophie had a way of ruining things. She always did.

“Who gave you permission to eat my cake?”

She slapped the cake out of my hands the moment I turned around. The icing smacked against the floor with a wet plop and chocolate crumbs went everywhere.

“Hey!” I shouted, crouching to pick it up in the hopes that at least part of it could be salvaged. “That wasn’t your cake. It was mine. And you ruined it!”

“What’s going on in here?”

My mother’s familiar voice made me freeze. Sophie turned, pointing at me. “She ruined my cake,” she lied. “She dropped it on the floor.”

“I said it was my cake. It’s my birthday.” I scooped up the mess, hot tears pricking at the backs of my eyes as I dumped it in the garbage. The cake was ruined. Inedible. I wanted to cry and scream and throw it at Sophie’s fucking head. It was the one thing I’d been looking forward to all day, and it was… gone.

The pressure began to build further.

“Aria, apologize to your sister,” my mother ordered.

“But—”

“Apologize. Now.”

Normally, I would have obeyed. It was what I always did—always tried my best to be the good daughter that my mother once thought I was. Before everything changed.

But not this time. No. It was my birthday, and I was tired of being treated like less than dirt in this house. And the pressure… It was becoming too much. If I didn’t release it soon, I might explode.

“No. I’m not apologizing.” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked directly into my mother’s eyes. “I don’t understand why you always side with Sophie and never me. I don’t understand why you abuse and neglect me day in and day out when I’m your—”

“Enough!” My mother’s voice was shrill. “You’re just like your father—heartless and selfish! Need I remind you that he walked out on us when you were five? I raised you all on my own, and this is how you thank me. With disrespect.”

Each word was like a dagger in my heart, pushing and pushing long after my mother’s shouts faded beneath the sound of the blood rushing through my ears. I couldn’t stop the tears. They came hot and fast, first one, then another, and soon a stream of them.

I’d endured this nightmare of a household all these years, constantly vying for my mother’s love, and for… what?

Nothing but abuse. Constant verbal assaults, being treated like a maid by my only parent.

I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. It was becoming unbearable, until… Until…

I snapped.

“Shut up!”

My hands connected with the table before I could stop myself. The next thing I knew, I had flipped the table, sending vases and china shattering across the floor. The edge of it landed directly on Sophie’s foot, causing her to shriek and fall backwards in pain.

My mother’s face went beet red. “You little monster!” she screamed. “You’ve always been a monster since birth. And your birth itself…”

Her voice trailed off. Pulling my shoulders back, I demanded, “What about my birth, Mom? Are you going to tell me I clawed my way out of you this time? Or maybe accuse me of eating your flesh?”

I could have sworn I saw a flicker of fear cross my mother’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Go to your room,” she hissed. “Now.”

This time, I did obey—but only because that pressure was building again, and I feared what I might do if I didn’t get away. I turned to leave, but Sophie stopped me.

“Wait,” she said, grabbing my wrist. “I have to show you something.”

I yanked my hand away and whirled on her. “What do you want?”

Sophie shoved her phone in my face. “Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking monster, your own boyfriend would want you.”

My heart stopped in my chest when I saw the texts on the screen from Daniel. My boyfriend. To Sophie.

“You’re my fated one. Not her,” the text read. “Her scent isn’t as good as yours.”

Fated one? Scent? His wording made no sense, but the implication was clear. Daniel was cheating on me with my own stepsister.

“You’ll never be loved,” Sophie giggled, slipping her phone back into her pocket. I could feel her friends staring at me from the doorway, could feel their hateful sneers. My mother was sneering, too. Of course she wouldn’t stand up for me. Of course she was just like them.

The pressure began to build again. This time, however, it manifested differently. Not in an explosion, but something else. Something I’d never felt before.

I felt it in my hands—a pricking sensation that was both painful and a blissful release at the same time. My mother gasped, and when I looked down, I gasped, too. My nails—once short and stubby from constant work—were now…

Claws.

All I could do was stare while my mother, Sophie, and Sophie’s friends screamed.

“What’s going on in here?!” a male voice shouted above the din. James, my stepfather, rushed into the room. My mother pointed at my hands, and James’ eyes went wide. He rushed out, then returned a moment later with his shotgun in hand.

“She’s a monster!” James shouted, cocking the gun. “I fucking knew it!”

I screamed and dropped to my knees, holding up my hands in surrender. The claws were still on full display, and no matter how hard I willed it, they wouldn’t go away. I tucked my hands instead into my armpits as if that would make them disappear.

“No! I’m not—please don’t shoot me! I don’t know what’s going—”

BANG.

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself for the quick pain of a bullet before death. But it never came. Just whimpers and silence.

And when I cracked my eyes open, I saw him.

A stranger. A man with curly blond hair was standing between me and my stepfather. He was gripping the barrel of the gun—now bent ninety degrees upward, pointing directly at the bullet hole that had just been made in the ceiling.

My stepfather’s mouth hung open in shock. “W-Who the hell are you?” he stammered.

The man stepped back and calmly smoothed down his shirt.

“I’m Ethan. The executor of Aria Collins' father, Richard Collins' estate.”