Page 63 of Fabricated

“We will not follow you. You are not even one of us! You never were. I should have aborted you when I had the chance. As soon as I looked into your eyes when you were a child, I knew I’d regret the day I let you be born.”

Branson growls, his body poised to attack Matilda. But I speak first, “Speaking out against your leader is punishable by death. And I promise you it won’t be as painless as a bullet to your head,” I toss her words back at her. My eyes drill into hers as I let her see the demons that lurk inside me. “I will melt the skin from your bones until you’re nothing but ash and teeth.” I bare my teeth. “Now if that is all, you may go. Do not make me make an example of you. I would take immense pleasure in punishing any of you, with no care for your feelings, just as you did to me.”

* * *

I aim at the target in front of me, plastic glasses annoying the hell out of me as the noise around me ceases to exist and I look down the site, zeroing in. My hand jerks slightly as I pop three rounds off. Every one of them hitting right between the eyes. A smile curls my lips as I rip the earmuffs off, Raiden’s and my grandfather's voices spilling in.

“Your stance still sucks,” Raiden says.

Sticking my tongue out, I remove the clip before checking the chamber. Satisfied, I put the gun on the table in front of me. “I don't remember asking you, brother.”

His eyes narrow as he fights a grin. “Imagining a brooding asshole, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” I muse, thinking of Branson's vulnerability as he held me down on my bed. The way his eyes pleaded for me to understand. And I did… It's just that I’ve spent my whole life accepting things I shouldn't. Never asking questions. Just accepting everything as fate.

“Is it because he fucked our mom?” Raiden asks, face souring in disgust.

Grandfather bristles at his choice of words, shaking his head as he cleans his guns. “Not really. And trust me, I understand how weird that sounds, but she does not feel like my mom. She is your mom, not mine. I guess it's just everything at once. I don't know…”

Raiden nods, looking to his shoes. “So, you don't see me as your brother?”

My heart squeezes at his choice of words, at how sad they sounded coming from his mouth. Sighing sadly, I say, “I’m sorry, but no, not yet.”

He nods, looking up as his eyes, so much like mine, connect with me. Love shows through them. “I get it. As for Branson.” He sighs. “I can't believe I'm saying this,” he mumbles. “Remember he was a child too. He grew up in this world and certain things were expected of him, of all of us.”

“He’s right,” my grandfather speaks.

“You despise him, so why are you taking his side now?”I try not to feel like he is betraying me, but he is the only one I truly trust anymore.

“I’m always on your side, Rayne Everlynn. Come.” He pats the seat next to him, and I sit, watching him clean his guns with gentle care. “Let me tell you the story of Branson and Rayne.”

* * *

My red silk dress hugs my curves, the cut in the back dipping almost to my ass, and pools at my feet. I smile at the flashing camera as I stand on the red carpet at the Glitz and Glam social awards show. I bat my lashes over my shoulder before I begin moving forward. A man in a white suit holds out a hand to escort me to my seat when I reach the end of the carpet.

The seats are leather and white. I am starting to think white chairs are a must in Hollywood. A cameraman comes by, pointing the camera at me, and I smile and blow a kiss.

The stage is grand, white feathers and diamonds the theme this year. The background is a pure white shimmer with silver flecks.

Tucker walks by with Emerson on his arm and they sit next to me. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” He looks in awe at the stage.

“I guess.” He frowns at me, about to say something, when Dominic Frazier sits down on the other side of me. His suit is red with gold flashing sequins that I find absurd, but the man under the suit is beautiful. Mahogany brown hair is styled elegantly. He is on the show To Love Them or Lose Them. It’s a dating reality TV show about one man who dates all genders. It is wild, hectic, and I have never seen one single contestant walk away with a lover. Sad, really, if you think about it.

“How are you, Rayne Prescott?”

I smile. “Fine, thank you. I want you to know, I’m rooting for you. I hope you’re the first contestant to walk away with a partner.”

He chuckles, flashing his white teeth at me. “I doubt it, but I will try.”

“Mr. Lexington, your seat is this way.” I look up to see Branson, black cigar pants fitted tightly around his powerful thighs, a red tie the color of my dress—as in, spot on, not a shade off. His hair is combed back, eyes sparkling with darkness as he takes me in.

He ignores the usher, choosing instead to aim a death glare at Dominic. “You’re in my spot.”

“No, he is not.” I roll my eyes. The nerve of him.

He smirks. “I wasn’t talking to him.” Before I can protest, he pulls me up, spinning me until I land on his lap. “Don’t make a scene, Darling. Trust me, the media is already having a field day with you.” Smug bastard is smiling. I can hear it in his voice.

His lips ghost over my shoulder as his arms wrap around my waist. “Anyone told you how beautiful you look tonight?”

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