Avery (The Phoenix Club Girl Diaries #3) - Addison Jane Page 0,6

should grab Scarlet and run, but his rattling, deep laughter caught me off guard.

“For someone who was born out of a drunk and a meth whore, you think you’re pretty fucking special, don’t you?” he hissed, his body slumped as he turned, smearing at the blood dripping from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, good fucking luck with that because when your genes finally kick in, and your body recognizes those uncontrollable cravings that are in your blood, you won’t be the hero then. You’ll be just like me.”

My body moved before I had the chance to stop it.

Only proving his fucking point.

“Marcus! Stop! He’s baiting you!”

Scarlet’s words were a blur.

I leaped forward, grabbing his shirt in one hand and pressing my arm tight against his throat, my fifteen-year-old body already stronger than his frail form. But he had been drinking himself into an early grave since I could remember. “I’m not you. I would rather douse myself in gasoline and burn your fucking genes out of me before I became anything like you.”

The thought made my stomach churn.

Was I reckless? Sometimes.

Hot-headed? Maybe.

Did that mean I couldn’t control my actions? Did that mean I couldn’t turn down temptation?

My grandfather was an asshole. An alcoholic who beat on his wife and kids. My father used that as an excuse to do the same. And now that the pieces were falling into place, I wanted to be fucking sick.

I wouldn’t turn out like them.

I couldn’t.

“We share the same fucking blood,” he taunted, red fluid smeared across his toothy grin. “The same goddamn DNA, and that shit is inside you. You can’t run from it. You can’t hide from it. And one day, it will burn so deep in your veins that you will have to give in.”

I took a step back, releasing the old bastard who almost fell to his knees, clutching at his chest for breath.

“Get the fuck out of my face,” I growled, sneering at him, unable to pull back, still fighting the urge to beat his face in.

“And then one day, you’ll pass it on to your kids,” he continued to taunt even as I helped Scarlet pack up her things. “And they’ll hate you, too, for passing on these traits that we are so fucking unable to fight. Just like you hate me! Just like I hate my father!”

I hooked my arm around Scarlet and led her away, my shoulders tight.

“He’s not like you, you know,” Scarlet whispered as we took one slow step at a time. “You’re not going to be anything like him.”

“I know.”

I was going to make damn sure of it.

There was a little hatchback thing parked out at the curb, letting me know exactly what the fuck he was doing, and why he wasn’t at the clubhouse welcoming his best fucking friend home. He always said he had my back, but he’d have it right after he got his dick wet.

It was no fucking lie.

I had to still love the bastard, though.

He’d been there through the hard shit, and now I was about to attempt to do the same.

I didn’t bother knocking, pushing open the door and strolling straight down the hall, knowing if the rumble of my Harley hadn’t alerted him to my presence, my heavy footsteps would be about to wake his shit up. I grabbed the banister at the bottom of the stairs and cupped one hand around my mouth. “Where’s my welcome home, you horny motherfucker!”

Silence.

“That bastard—”

“Oh my god, who’s that?”

A series of thumping and whispers had me grinning. “Keep your panties on, pansy! I’ll be down when I’m done,” he called back, but by the sound of the high-pitched objections, his lady friend wasn’t in agreement.

“Fine!” he hissed.

Chuckling softly, I walked into the kitchen, yanking the fridge door open and reaching for a beer I knew he’d have fully stocked—that familiarity a little too close to home. The light footsteps came first, and I couldn’t help but peek my head out. Though my amusement at the predicament instantly dropped when I saw the girl rush by in a fucking school uniform.

The front door slammed closed as my brother stumbled down the stairs, shirtless, hair sticking up all over the place, and wiping lipstick off his jaw.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” I snapped and shoved him in the shoulder as he slipped by me into the kitchen.

“Welcome home!” He beamed, his movements following precisely what I’d just done. Fridge, then beer, before he turned with a wide grin,