Page 3 of Queen of The Reapers
“What makes you think I’m joking?” He snaps, narrowing his eyes at me. “What? Are we supposed to be your little fucking lapdogs now because we saved you?”
“That’s not—”
“No, it is.” He says, cutting me off as he inches towards my face. “We aren’t those men, Princess.”
“I just thought—”
“You thought what? That things changed? That the men who own you suddenly transformed from monsters into princes? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, P, but we’re still The Reapers. The dangerous men you offered yourself up to on a silver fucking platter. You are ours. To own. To fuck. And to do whatever the hell else we want with. That hasn’t changed, P, and it never will.”
The cool veneer I was trying to cling on to immediately shatters. Fuck this and fuck all of them. If that’s how they see me, then why am I even trying to get them to understand? If all I am to them is a piece of property, they’ll never care about how I feel. Why would they? They have the power to do as they please and use my body any way they see fit.
No. The only way I’m getting back to my sister is if I fight for her. And if it’s a fight they want, it’s a fight they’ll fucking get.
Like a flash of lightning, I lunge out of my seat and shove my way towards the door. In the back of my mind, I know it’s pointless. Cyrus and Tristan can easily overpower me, but I refuse to back down. I have to fight for Alex, even if it is futile.
Constricting arms tangle around my body, but I don’t stop fighting. For their parts, Cyrus and Tristan try to stop me without injuring me, but my kicks and shoves are getting more violent by the second. I hate them for what they’re doing to me, and I hate myself for how far this is going.
“Stop!” The twins bark in unison, but I’m too far gone to listen to their orders. I've been constrained and restricted my entire fucking life and their blatant disregard for my needs just a lit a twenty-year-old fuse.
I scratch and I claw and I push and I shove until I can barely tell where my feet and hands are landing. Other voices start mixing with their protests and more hands are on me, but I block them out. I’m getting out of this fucking car now.
“GODDAMNIT STEVIE, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Atlas booms, pounding his heavy hand against the dash.
The anger and violence in his voice snaps me back to reality. I jerk my head in his direction and freeze. Fiery rage fills his eyes, and I can’t help but cower under his narrowed gaze.
“Stop acting like a petulant fucking child.” He spits, his breathing labored from trying to pry me off of his brothers. “We’re going home. Now. End of discussion.”
My bottom lip quivers and before I can block it out, an all too familiar emotion grabs a hold of me and pulls me under. Fear. Only this time the person terrifying me isn’t my mother, it’s Atlas.
I feel his anger and disappointment all around me, coating my skin and engulfing me. I’m drowning in it. I’m ashamed and, as much as I hate looking weak, I can’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes.
“That’s not my fucking home.” I sputter, choking on my words as my vision blurs with unshed tears. “That mansion is just a gilded fucking cage and you know it.”
I’m screaming now and my emotions are swirling through me like a tornado of rage, shame, guilt, and sorrow. I can’t hold it in any longer and the words are spewing out of me uncontrollably.
“You guys think you’re so strong. The fucking Reapers. The men who elicit fear in everyone they meet. But you know what I think? I think you’re four scared little boys trapped in the bodies of full-grown men. You control and manipulate and torture and trick your way into power because that’s the closest thing to love and acceptance you’ll ever feel. You think I’m some weak little girl that needs a prince to save her, but newsflash, I don’t need your kindness, I don’t need your love, and I especially don’t need you. The only fucking thing I need right now is—”
My words die off the second I take in each of their pained expressions. Regret sinks into my stomach and festers, making me relive all the bitter words I threw at them. I want to apologize. To tell them I didn’t mean any of it, but I can’t even stomach the idea of facing them. I can barely breathe, let alone speak.
My eyes flicker to each of them and I study their hard features. Cyrus’ brows are pulled together in a scowl and his fists are tightly clenched as he stares daggers at me. Tristan’s eyes are low and he presses his lips in a hard line as he avoids looking at me altogether. Atlas' head is cocked and his mouth is slightly ajar, almost as if he can't believe I’m the one who spewed such venomous words. And Ezra is looking at me with a question in his eyes. Like he no longer knows what to think about me.
Hurting them feels like I’m ripping a piece of my own heart out, but my concern for my sister outweighs any feelings I have for them. It has to. I’m all she has left.
I glance at Ezra and catch his reflection in the mirror. He’s looking out his window now, but as he pulls his cigarette up to his lips and takes a slow drag, his stormy grey eyes land on mine.God, he is going to kill me. What the hell was I thinking?
“Finish.” Ezra orders, studying my expression from his rear-view mirror. “Might as well get it all out now.”
He’s right. My feeble attempt to put out the fire my words ignited was pointless. I’ve already said the worst of it and it’s only fair that they hear my full thoughts before they decide what happens next. “The only thing I need right now is my sister.” I breathe, pulling in a shaky breath. “She’s the only family I have left. I’m ready to move forward, but she’s the one part of my past I can’t leave behind.”
The second I release the words, it feels like a heavy weight has been lifted from my chest. Atlas, Ezra, Cyrus, & Tristan sit silent for a moment and stare off into the forest, taking a few minutes to mull over everything I said. I keep my eyes low and wait for a response. I think about elaborating further, but I already said more than enough as it is.
After several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Atlas is the first to speak up.
“Call her.” He says, spitting the words out as if they taste rancid in his mouth. “Have her head to Alessandro’s. Our men will take it from there.”
“I can’t.” I say, my voice sounding smaller than it ever has. “I have no way of reaching her.”
“Here.” Tristan barks, carelessly tossing the familiar rose gold iPhone on my thigh. “Have at it.”
