3

I stood there, in the center of the Grand Hall, my ears ringing. The revelation of Rusty and Frederick as my new stepbrothers had left me in a state of numb shock.

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to run, to go back to our small, dilapidated apartment, but my feet were pinned to the marble.

"Richard…" I managed to say, forcing a voice that sounded tired rather than on the verge of a panic attack. "Please, I’m exhausted. It’s been a… long day. Could you show me to my room?"

Richard Bayron nodded with a mechanical courtesy that set my teeth on edge. "Of course, Luke. The transition can be overwhelming." He looked at my mother, Darla, who watched him with a devotion that made my stomach turn. "Darla, dear, join us. I want you to see that we haven't spared any detail for our new son."

'Our new son.' That simple phrase made me feel smothered.

We ascended the imperial staircase, passing right by Frederick and Rusty. The former remained leaning against the railing, watching me with a predatory intensity that made me feel exposed; the latter, Rusty, winked at me with a familiarity that made me gag.

We walked down an endless hallway carpeted in a red so deep it looked like dried blood.

"This is your wing, Luke," Richard said, opening a set of carved wooden double doors. "You have total privacy. Frederick lives in the West Wing, on the other side of the property, and Rusty has his suite on the ground floor near the gym. You’ll have peace here."

I stepped into the room. It was larger than my entire previous home. A king-sized canopy bed, heavy silk curtains, and a massive window overlooking the dark gardens.

My mother gave me a quick peck on the cheek. "It’s all yours, honey! Get some rest, tomorrow will be a big day!" she said before leaving, arm-in-arm with her new husband.

I closed the door and leaned my back against it. The silence enveloped me. "West Wing," I repeated to myself.

Frederick was far away. Rusty was on another floor. For the first time that day, I let out a choked sob, burying my face in my hands.

I was in hell, yes, but at least tonight I had walls between them and me.

During the night, I tried to sleep, but my thoughts wouldn't let me. Finally, I decided to go down to the kitchen for some warm milk. But for some reason, I was terrified to leave the room.

"Damn it, Luke, it’s just warm milk. You go down to the kitchen and come back. No one is awake," I whispered to myself, trying to find some courage.

With a deep sigh, I stepped out into the hallway. The mansion in the dark was a labyrinth of fickle shadows. I tiptoed, feeling the chill of the wood beneath my bare feet, my heart thumping to the rhythm of my cautious steps.

I reached the top of the stairs, but before I could take the first step down, a shadow detached itself from the darkness of a niche.

I didn't even have time to scream.

A large, warm hand slammed over my mouth while a strong arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me off the floor.

With brute, efficient force, I was shoved against the cold hallway wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and the scent of tobacco, mint, and that dangerous masculine magnetism hit me like a slap.

Frederick.

His ice-cold eyes burned with a gaze so fixed it felt like he was stripping me bare. Before I could even react, his right hand shot up with lethal speed, locking around my throat.

The thumb of his other hand pressed hard against my bottom lip, forcing my mouth to part as his face descended until our breaths tangled together.

"Looking for Rusty in the dark, little mouse?" his voice was a low growl, laced with a possessiveness that made my ribs vibrate.

He tilted his head, burying his nose in the curve of my neck, inhaling with a hunger that bordered on the sickly. His teeth grazed my jugular, marking his territory with the scent of expensive alcohol and cigarettes.

Dammit.

"You still smell like that cheap cologne my brother gave you," he spat, and I felt his free hand slide down with aggressive dominance, squeezing my waist and forcing an involuntary gasp from my lips. "Did you really think I’d leave you alone under my roof? After the way you looked at me at the university today?"

"I didn’t do anything to you…" I tried to say, but the pads of his fingers began to dig into my skin.

"Oh, but you did. You made me acknowledge your existence, forced me to endure your 'good boy' act for years..." his gaze raked over my face with a hatred that felt strangely like something more. "And now I have to endure seeing you in my house, too?"

"Frederick, let me go…" I pleaded, though my voice came out as a broken whisper.

Frederick stared into my eyes for a few heartbeats before letting out a mocking laugh. For a split second, his knee pressed between my thighs, forcing my body to arch into his in a position of total vulnerability.

"Do you really want me to let you go, Luke?" he insinuated, as his thumb slid from my lips down to my chest, sending an electric jolt through me. "From what I can see, your body is still reacting to me..."

My chest heaved up and down as I remembered exactly why Frederick’s presence had become my living hell. The truth was, it wasn't just the high school bullying; it was the territorial violence Frederick exerted over anyone who so much as looked at me.

It all started when the rugby captain tried to ask me out during my freshman year. He showed up the next day with a shattered jaw and had to retire from the league. No one saw who did it, but I saw Frederick cleaning his blood-stained knuckles in the faculty restroom, smiling at me with that sociopathic calm. He didn't ask people to stay away from me; he erased them.

At first, I thought it was just a sick game, but one afternoon a small scrap of paper fell out of his notebook and I froze. It was a list of every person who had approached me, along with their class schedules.

In that moment, I realized Frederick was a toxic, dangerous shadow. I wasn't safe even outside of school; he followed me from a distance, obsessed with everything I did or everywhere I went.

That suffocating obsession was what drove me into Rusty’s arms. He had approached me one afternoon in the cafeteria. I wanted to say no, but seeing that Frederick had disappeared, I accepted.

But my thoughts were cut short by his husky, dangerous voice.

"Did you really think this ended here, Luke?" Frederick continued, his hand threading through my hair and yanking it with a violence that forced a gasp of pain from me, arching my neck to its limit.

"Let go of me, you animal!" I tried to scream, but his forearm pressed harder against my throat, cutting off my air just enough to make my pupils dilate.

Panic blurred with a burning humiliation, but I hated how my senses became intoxicated by his proximity.

"Enjoy it, because this is only the beginning, Luke… Everything under my roof belongs to me, and Rusty won't be there to help you hide."

"You have no right!" I shouted, even as my hands trembled while pounding against his stone-hard chest.

Frederick clicked his tongue, smirking mockingly. Without warning, he let go of me abruptly. I fell to my knees, gasping for oxygen, my hands flying to my neck as I tried to claw my way back to reality.

Frederick swept his hair back and grunted, reclaiming his perfect posture in a second. His eyes radiated a toxicity I had never seen before.

"By the way, Luke… I don't live in the West Wing. My room is directly across from yours." He knelt for a moment, gripping my chin to force me to meet his predatory smile. "Don't bother locking the door; I broke the latch before you even arrived."

What the hell!

I remained in dead silence as he simply turned away. But just when I thought he’d vanish down the hallway, he turned slightly to look at me over his shoulder.

"One more thing… If I hear Rusty enter your room, believe me, you’ll wish you had never met me," he whispered, his words falling like a death sentence. "Sleep well, little brother.”

I watched him disappear into the shadows of the stairs, leaving me alone in the hallway, trembling in a way I couldn't control. It took me several minutes to gather the nerve to get back to my room. I went in and closed the door with clumsy hands, desperately searching for the latch.

I climbed into bed, wrapping myself in the silk sheets as if they were armor, my eyes fixed on the door. I was terrified that one of them would walk in.

An hour passed. Maybe two. I was about to succumb to exhaustion when a sound made me bolt upright.

Click.

Shit! Shit!