Queen of Quarantine (Brutal Boys of Everlake Prep #4) - Caroline Peckham Page 0,253

the very real prospect of my death flashed before my eyes.

But before I could succumb to it, my toes bumped against something and in the next moment I got my footing on it, taking my weight again and relieving some of the pressure in my neck so that I could suck in a gasping breath. My pulse thundered with fear, but I forced it aside, refusing to allow them to terrorise me in my own home.

I managed to strain my eyes enough to look down and spot one of the kitchen stools beneath my feet before I lifted my gaze to the group who were standing before me again.

Kyan slung a heavily tattooed arm around Tatum’s shoulders, his black wifebeater offending my eyes with its terribly casual appearance in my home, and as he placed a kiss to the top of her head, a thought occurred to me which tore into the fabric of the legacy I had hoped to leave upon this planet.

To further confirm my fears, Blake moved to her other side and ran a finger along her jaw in a clear caress. It wasn’t just my son. They were all beguiled by the beautiful girl before me. All fallen prey to her whims.

"Who said taking on Troy Memphis would be difficult?" Blake asked and Kyan laughed loudly while my son just kept on smirking, drinking in the sight of me brought to his mercy like this.

This was what he wanted, to prove that he could beat me, to bring me beneath him and make me fall to his command.

Footsteps thumped down the wooden stairs behind me from the mezzanine level and the group of savages before me all looked beyond me to the imposter in their midst. The poor man who’d come seeking vengeance, no doubt being used by my son purely to bait me. But I refused to rise to that.

Jase Harrington strode around me and came to stand close enough for me to smell the scent of pine and testosterone oozing from his skin. There was a roughness about him that spoke of his poor breeding, his white t-shirt clinging to his muscular frame and a fine lining of stubble coating his jaw. He didn't belong in this world of power and prestige. He was a bug that should have been squashed alongside his worthless family all those years ago instead of left to grow into this attack dog with a grudge to bear. That wasn't the kind of mistake I'd make again.

"Tell me," he said, his voice a growl as he looked at me like I was somehow beneath him despite the clear evidence to the contrary. "Do you think about them? The child you killed and the mother you murdered?" he asked and I scoffed.

"I barely even recall them," I spat, my voice a harsh whisper as the noose around my neck refused to allow me any more volume. He had tied it off on the bannister above me and only the stool beneath my feet stopped me from hanging myself. I would take great pleasure in paying him back for this offence. Then he’d learn to stay in his damn place at the bottom of the food chain where he belonged. "If it wasn't for your resurrection in my life, they would have been forgotten entirely."

A low growl rippled through him, echoed by the men at his back which to my horror included my own flesh and blood. Was my son seriously upset over something so trivial?

"Are you even sorry for it?" Blake demanded and I narrowed my eyes.

"I've never been sorry for anything a day in my life," I hissed. "You don't get to where I am by wasting time on regrets."

"He isn't capable of feeling anything, let alone remorse," Saint supplied, stepping to Nash's side and looking up at me with interest. “Although I think I see some fear in there now.”

"What are talking about?" I asked him, forgetting about the others as I focused on the power in the room.

Whatever my son had to say was the real reason for this. He would make his point then we'd figure out where to go from there. Though I doubted anything he could say to me now would make me reconsider my decision to kill him, no matter how much he might be impressing me now.

"I was just thinking," Saint replied slowly, his gaze sliding over me critically. "How very human you are in reality. In the mind of a child,