Beneath the Stars (Falling Stars #4) - A.L. Jackson Page 0,41

to hear.

“Well, whatever happened, it doesn’t matter any longer. It’s behind us now.”

I battled to guard myself against her blatant disregard.

Still, I stumbled a step forward, unable to process the cruelty.

“Now, it’s time to stop this nonsense and come home where you belong. There are matters to attend to.”

The warning was there. Clear and present. All contained in the hoity pride she wore like a brand.

Disbelieving laughter escaped from my tongue. “No, Mother, there is nothing left. Nothing left to say. Nothing left to do.”

I could almost hear her teeth grinding to dust before the venom came pouring out. “Your pathetic brother put you up to this, didn’t he? Convinced you into holding onto your morbid little lies to keep us apart? All of this is his fault. None of this would have happened if he hadn’t stolen your father’s position at Mylton Records. Your father was innocent. Royce framed him. Was jealous your father wasn’t his father, too. He’s responsible for it all.”

“No, Mom. Dad was responsible.” My father had been the CEO of Mylton Records. He had also been a major player in an international crime ring. He just hadn’t been quite high enough and had been killed in prison while awaiting trial.

A clear strike to keep him silent.

The same as had been done to Cory Douglas.

As much as I’d hated them both, I still couldn’t fathom their fate, then I’d been destroyed all over again when the depths of their depravity had been brought to light.

When it’d been exposed how violently evil they really were when that house had been discovered that was nothing less than a prison.

“He was good to us,” she argued.

Agony clutched my spirit, and tears blurred my eyes. “No. He wasn’t. You can cut the act because you and I both know it.”

I could feel her physically snap.

“Where is it, Maggie? Where is it?” she seethed, her voice slipping into malice, no longer trying to hide her true intentions.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Now who’s acting? I won’t let you take what’s rightfully mine, you little bitch.”

I ended the call before she had a chance to say anything else.

I slumped forward, gasping out a breath.

A hand touched my bare shoulder.

I didn’t jump.

I already knew he was there.

Awareness shimmered and pulsed against the walls.

“Maggie.” His voice was gruff.

As hard as I tried to stop them, tears streaked free of my eyes.

His hand curled tighter. “Mags.”

“I need you to go. Please.”

He hesitated.

“Please…I just need some air. Some privacy to clear my thoughts.”

“Okay,” he said, even though I could tell he didn’t want to agree.

He’d wrap me up and promise me it was okay if that’s what I needed.

The problem was, this wasn’t okay.

Reluctantly, he slipped out, and I moved over and turned the shower on as hot as it would go. Let the steam fill the room as I peeled the rest of the way out of my clothes.

I stepped in, and I shivered under the spray that was hot enough to burn.

I dropped my head in the fall of water, and one of my hands shot out to the wall to keep myself standing while the other went to my mouth to cover the sob that wrenched free.

My body bent in two as the tears came and came.

As I wept with the reality of my life.

My mother knew and I had no idea what she would do or the lengths she would go to feed her greed.

Fear rolled and toiled and climbed out through my mouth.

I expelled it in choking, writhing gasps.

Then I lifted my chin to the spray. Let it wash it all away.

My mother could threaten me all she wanted.

I would do this.

I would.

No matter the cost.

Like Emily had said, I had to go after what was right, even when I was terrified.

Even when it might cost me everything.

Ten

Rhys

“Spill it.” The grated voice hit me from behind where I’d just snagged a beer from the industrial-sized refrigerator in the kitchen.

Heart rate doublin’ time, I whirled around, a scowl on my face.

“Dude, what the hell? You scared the piss outta me.”

I rubbed at my chest to calm the raging. Damn, she was a sneaky little mouse.

Melanie stood there, the band’s manager and basically the bane of my existence, with her scowl five times bigger than mine.

Ahh shit.

I was in trouble.

“The daggers,” I told her, holding a hand up between us like it was a shield before I cracked the beer cap and gave her a wry shake of my head. “Put