Psycho Ex Boyfriend (Standalone New Adult Romance) (The Alpha Brotherhood Book 2) (9 page)

She rolls on her back for a belly rub. Her ears are cocked upwards and floppy, her head tilted. Is she trying to look more like a puppy? I guess girls of all species know how to work their magic to get what they want from the guys who love them. I spread out on the floor next to her, scratching her special spot below her ribs to get that leg kicking air.

Heavy footsteps thud towards us and my first instinct is to get on my feet. But for whatever reason, I don’t. This is my fucking house. My fucking dog. If I want to lie on the floor like a child, I will.

In a perfect world, it would be Shane walking toward me. Or Trent. Basically anyone aside from Ian. But it’s fucking Ian.

He cracks a joke. I don’t really hear what he said, all I can focus on is the laugh. His two cronies are behind him like they always are. I stay where I am and he says something else. I know his laughter well. An overconfident, self-congratulatory cackle that always follows one of his stupid jokes.

I’m not quite sure what happens next. I hear a snapping sound in my ears and feel my feet on the floor. Then my hands have something fleshy in their grasp and I hear the shouting.

“You say one more thing about my dog. One. More. Fucking. Thing…” I snarl as my vision returns and focuses on Ian’s reddening face.

“Let him go!”

The bastard is turning purple as drool escapes the corner of his mouth. There’s no way he’d just let me strangle him without fighting back, even if he is worried about getting expelled. I must have punched him first.

Caleb appears in the corner of my vision, his eyes bugging out in surprise. “Trent!”

Those two are tight. Trent will probably start calling the shots now that I’m a goner. Caleb will take over his spot as second in command, or perhaps even vie for first. Either way, they’ll be good to Shane. Good enough, anyway. But the shrimp is on his own now.

Since it’s over for me, I may as well take out their biggest threat.

“Let go, Adam!” There’s at least three sets of hands on my shoulders and arms, pulling at me. But my grip on Ian simply tightens as I feel my lips curl into a sneer.

“Adam!” That desperate plea came from Shane to my left.

“Christ! Let him go!” That one was Trent. “Adam!”

Shane bites the back of my hand, jolting me back into reality. Little fucker. He’ll do alright. Always used his brains over nonexistent brawn, always finds a way to come out on top. Our eyes meet. Shane has these bizarre almost colorless light blue eyes. They’re watering. His entire face is contorted, like he just watched me get killed. Same difference to him. We’ll never see each other again now.

“
Fuck!
” Trent shouts, spinning around and tearing at his hair as he tries to find a way to turn back time. “Son of a bitch! What were you thinking?” He keeps raging, slamming shit around as Caleb tries to calm him down. All the other dogs are nowhere to be found, except for Betty. Caleb has her by the collar as she barks viciously toward my rival.

Ian is choking on the ground at my feet, his shocked eyes looking up at me. I sink down beside him, my vision focused on the thin line of blood trickling from my hand.

“You win,” I tell him. He already knows, but it hasn’t sunk in yet. For either of us.

I fall back and start laughing. Laughing, laughing, laughing as if none of it fucking matters because it doesn’t. It never did. Trent asks me again what the hell happened as our monitors swarm the room, but I can’t answer him because I don’t know. All I can do is laugh like a madman.

Adam

Age 15

Father gets on his private jet after he’s been notified of ‘the incident.’ He’ll be here in three hours. I’m given ten minutes to gather my nonexistent personal effects from my room. The first thing I do is break the contraband flip phone in half and flush the sim card down the toilet. I can’t risk getting caught with it. I have no idea what could happen to Sabrina if I did.

Aside from that, I can’t let myself think about her or I’ll lose it. What’s done is done.

There are three monitors in the main part of the house waiting for me. Two male, one female. They must live in the walls. We’ve never actually seen them before and I have no idea how they enter and exit the building. They’re wearing earpieces and have utility belts complete with mace, cuffs, and a stun gun. What a weird fucking job.

My brothers have all been confined to their rooms, aside from Ian. He’s waiting on the bench outside my father’s office. Motherfucker. What the hell will it take to get away from that jackass? I take a seat in one of the chairs across from him.

The woman appears to be in charge, or at least the one who is most concerned with the proper procedures. She’s leaned against the wall, thumbing through a three ring binder. I’d love to get my hands on that thing, just to see what it says about us. One of the other monitors asks her if they’re supposed to remove our dogs from the premises.

I tighten my grip on her leash. I’ll gouge out an eye and Betty will probably tear off a testicle before they take her away from me. I’d communicate the threat verbally, but that would ruin the element of surprise.

“They get to keep the dogs,” the preoccupied lady informs us.

“Why the hell am I here?” Ian asks. “I didn’t do anything.”

“He really didn’t,” I add. “It was basically like strangling a dead fish.”

“Fuck you.”

“Boys…” one of the male monitors chides us, folding his arms across his chest.

“Is that what you’re told to say every time we fuck up?
Boooyyys
?” I mock them.

“Actually, it is.”

That explain why every admonishment over the speakers start out that way. “Well, you sound like a school teacher nun.”

Ian chuckles and leans back into his chair. His dog belly walks over to mine and licks her paw. I wonder if they know what’s going on. I wish I didn’t.

The massive grandfather clock at the end of the hall chimes ten times as most of the lights in the house flick off. The overnight lighting is warm and shadowy, like candlelight. One of the monitors heads down to the basement to manually override the system so we’re not left sitting in the dark. The other calls his wife to inform her that he’ll be home later than usual because there’s been an altercation between two of the kids.

Home. From a job. To a wife. Maybe kids. Shit. Is that the life to which I’ve condemned myself?

Ian is glaring at me, probably thinking the same thing. Did I take him down with me? Why the hell is he here?

Kids used to get kicked out of the program all the time. Fighting was the main reason, especially in the beginning. But the losers got cut for breaking down and not fighting back hard enough, not the winners for pushing them to their breaking point. They blubbered and cried like the little bitches they were and got escorted away as the rest of us watched and laughed. But we never knew exactly what happened once they disappeared through those double doors. Were they sitting outside an office like I am, waiting to see the man that owned us for the last time? What does he want? An exit interview?

We haven’t lost anyone for a while now. My mouth goes dry as I sit in silence. Where the hell will I end up? I’m a fifteen year old male, possibly with a documented violent history. Nobody wants that in their house.

Ian dozes off about an hour into our wait. I’m not as lucky. The monitor with the wife at home leaves and the other two disappear back into the walls, under the stairs, or wherever the hell they spend their time lurking.

I’m essentially alone. And if I’m alone and unoccupied for more than a few minutes, I start thinking about Sabrina. Every time. Tonight, I try to push her away but she keeps coming back. Eventually I give in and my mind starts strategizing for a way to keep her, eventually settling on an elaborate plan to run away to Costa Rica.

I’m jerked away from the comfort of the fantasy around 1:30 in the morning. My spine stiffens when I hear Father’s footsteps approaching. He has a distinct walk. Slow and controlled, with a slightly uneven gait that leaves a longer pause between every other step. I swear he has custom made lead soles in his shoes to make it sound more imposing.

The female monitor meets him at the end of the hall and hands him one of those new thumb drive things. I assume it’s footage of ‘the incident.’ Ian hears the exchange and wakes up. His eyes widen and his hand immediately flies to his throat when he yawns. I bet that hurts. I don’t even try to keep the satisfaction off my face, locking eyes with him as he tries to hide it. Apparently that binder didn’t instruct anyone to take the victim for medical attention in the event of strangulation.

“Adam.” Father nods at me as he pulls a keyring from his pocket and unlocks his office door.

Here goes. Betty is cuddled up next to her sister, sleeping peacefully. I can’t bring myself to disturb them, even though this might be the last time I ever see her. It’s probably best for her if I leave her behind. It’s not like a dog can understand the word ‘goodbye’ anyway.

I’ve been in Father’s office before, but only for business reasons. What else is there? Shutting the door behind me, I take a seat in the leather chair across from his desk. My palms are sweaty. Gross.

He inserts the thumb drive and stares at the screen. There’s no sound and he’s not wearing headphones, so I guess the audio surveillance mystery has officially been solved. There isn’t any. Too bad I won’t be able to tell the guys.

Father doesn’t… well, shit. I probably shouldn’t call him that anymore. It always felt forced anyway. Whoever the man is to me now, he isn’t looking at me, nor does he appear to be particularly angry or disappointed. Why should he be? This won’t ruin his life.

“Ooo!” he exclaims, laughing like he’s watching someone land a good punch in an MMA fight. “That came out of nowhere. What did he say?”

“Does the context make a difference?”

“Negligible.”

“Well, I don’t remember the exact words,” I reply, clearing my throat. “But I know Ian either threatened or insulted my dog.”

“Your dog?”

“Yes.”

“And you strangled him over it?”

“It just sort of… happened.”

“Don’t hesitate when you speak,” he says. “It comes off as weakness.”

“Does that really make a difference at this point?”

“You know better than to use the word really, also. You sound like a girl.”

Okay… Should I thank him for the life tips? “Ian didn’t fight back.”

“I see that.”

“So…” Shit. No hesitating. “He didn’t break any rules. There’s no reason to kick him out. It will just further upset the balance in the house.”

Father grins at me. It’s nearly a prideful smile. What the hell? “Not fighting back could be considered grounds for dismissal. But I’d wager he’d have resisted better had you not rendered him partially unconscious from the first hit.”

“So I did punch him.” I didn’t mean to say that out loud.

“You really don’t remember what happened, do you?”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to say the word really.”

At that he laughs heartily, spinning the computer screen to face me so I can see the brawl for myself. Damn. I did just clock Ian out of nowhere. I hit him from the left this time. Maybe it will straighten out his crooked nose.

“I do like the way Shane bit you at the end there. Quite resourceful.”

“That he is,” I reply. The footage plays again, but I don’t want to look at it. “Well, thanks for filling in the gaps, but I’d rather know what happens next.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, where am I going now?”

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere, Adam,” he says cryptically, leaning back in his chair.

“But I…”

“What? Broke the rules?”

“Well, yeah.”

There’s that hearty laugh again. It’s freaking me out. The man has practically been a statue the entire time I’ve known him. He’s warmed up a little since we’ve gotten older, especially when we succeed, but this might just be the first time I’ve actually heard him laugh.

“What happens when a corporation breaks the law, Adam?”

Is this a trick question? “It’s fined.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes,” I answer, but he just stares at me. Oh, shit. That is a trick question. “No. Nothing happens unless it gets caught.”

“Exactly. There are no rules in life, Adam. There are laws. There are stipulations. There are limitations.” Father pulls his pipe from a drawer in his desk and fills it with tobacco. “But there are no rules. Never have been.”

What the fuck does that mean? “I got caught.”

“Yes, you did. And you’ll be fined. I see no reason for any further action.”

“So, what? We’re allowed to beat the shit out of each other again?”

“That depends on how much equity you’d like to retain when you exit the program.” The flickering light of his pipe lights up his face. “And watch your tone.”

I nod, unsure of what to say next. “How much?”

“Excuse me?”

“How much is the fine?”

“Oh,” he chuckles. “That depends on how well you fare during negotiations.”

Negotiations. I knew there had to be a catch.

My father’s office has a door on the rear wall. We all have a theory where it goes, and none of them are particularly appealing. Father presses a button on his desk and the door opens as he tamps down his pipe. Looks like I’m the lucky one that gets to solve the mystery.

Our discussion is concluded without another word. I cross the threshold and find nothing but a spiral staircase plunging down into the dark. This can’t be good.

I take each step carefully, sliding my fingers across the cold iron banister. My feet hit the floor unexpectedly and I’m surprised to find it soft. A blinding light immediately floods the windowless underground room.

My heartrate increases as I take in my surroundings. It’s some sort of arena. A battered black wrestling mat covers the entire floor. The padding extends up all of the walls, aside from the one behind the staircase. I approach that carefully, hoping that it will suddenly change into something other than what it is.

A steel cage stretches across the surface, encasing an impressive variety of weapons behind it. Knives. Polearms. Whips. Even a few swords. What the fuck kind of negotiation is this? Bile rises in my throat as I attempt to slide the case open, but it’s locked.

This could be a test. I do everything possible to access the arsenal inside. Not a single gap is large enough to get a finger through, let alone actually pull something out. Hopefully it’s just here for the ambiance.

Okay then. I’m alone for no more than ten minute before the spiral staircase starts to rattle with the sound of a single pair of footsteps. I back my way into a corner with fists clenched, waiting. Adrenaline kicks in, but not like it has in the past when we always lived like this. Between Sabrina’s confession and almost losing everything that I’ve worked for, I’m just plain tapped out.

Ian on the other hand is rested and ready, with years of pent up rage and newly unchecked aggression. I feel it behind every strike and blow I endure as we brawl. I land a few good shots of my own, sure, but he’s at an advantage and he knows it. Somehow he’s managed to perfect that kidney punch I know so well from our younger years. If I make it out of this with all my teeth, I’ll be pleasantly surprised.

But he stops. Why he doesn’t leave me in a crumpled, bleeding heap on the floor, I don’t understand. Maybe it’s not enough of a challenge.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Ian gasps, backing away and taking a seat on the stairs.

“Huh?”

“Getting us into this gladiatorial bullshit,” he says, gesturing to our strange surroundings.

A bell rings, startling me. He expected it. The sound of metal grating against metal makes me wince as the cage of weapons slides open. “Son of a bitch.”

“Do you honestly want to kill each other tonight?” Ian asks.

“Not particularly.”

“Neither do I.”

“You don’t think this could honestly… I mean, wouldn’t there be an investigation or something if we actually…” I stammer.

“Do you know of a problem that money can’t solve?” Ian snorts. “Most of those kids left Father’s grasp with more than scrapes and bruises. No one gave a fuck about us then. No one will now.”

He’s right. And this dungeon really shouldn’t surprise me, considering. The old man always favored the most violent and ruthless. Before we could earn him money that was the only way to stand out from the crowd.