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A few seconds beat by. “They’re tattooed on my soul.” I grunted out. “The rules, that is.”
In typical Bella fashion, she honest to God twirled into the room like the picture of innocence, her long dark hair fell near to her waist like she was channeling Rapunzel and her bright green eyes roamed across every piece of furniture only to glaze past me and land on Phoenix. “Shocked, he still has one, am I right?”
“Bella.” His tone got even lower; I didn’t think it was actually possible.
She marched right up to him and reached out. Her touch was gentle, her fingers grasped his arm, then his hand. You’ve got to be shitting me. “Did you need me for something?”
Could she suck up any more? What the ever-loving FBI or CIA secret shit was she on?
Phoenix melted on the spot, his eyes softened, even his body seemed to relax, as his jaw unclenched. He honestly didn’t look happy about her little trick but still managed to pull her in for a hug, his lips brushed the top of her head in a swift kiss. I rolled my eyes. “Disgusting.”
Bella turned and looked over her shoulder, flipping her hair dangerously close to my person. “It’s called affection, but you wouldn’t know that if I spelled it out for you and tattooed it on that missing soul of yours a million times, do you even know how to hold someone’s hand? It’s like you’re allergic to touch, and feelings, and anything remotely fun! It wouldn’t kill you to smile without murder on your mind.”
“I’m fun!” I argued.
“Rule number seven,” Phoenix barked.
“Fine,” we said in unison.
I crossed my arms, probably more aggressive than needed.
She crossed hers, mimicking me to perfection as she always did.
And Phoenix just stared between the two of us. “You’ll both be attending school starting tomorrow. Look out for one another… I’m adding a new rule to the millions of rules you have between each other. Family sticks together. If someone as much as blinks at Bella, you warn them away, if she gets attacked you kill them no questions asked and Bella, if anyone bullies him or says anything about his family line, you kick them in the balls, you both have your strengths in combat and in what I can only say is manipulation to the extreme. Family is blood, now give me your hands and give me your vows.”
“Does that mean I can major in—” I stopped talking. Phoenix wasn’t playing any games. Instead, I walked over and gave him my hand.
Bella gave him hers.
Phoenix grabbed the dagger from his back pocket and, without any warning, slid it across Bella’s palm.
She didn’t even flinch.
Two could play that game.
I swear my cut was deeper. As intense burning pain made itself known and blood started running down my wrist. I watched as it slid down my forearm. Phoenix grabbed both of our hands and pressed our palms together, aggressive even for him. “Be nice. Get along. Don’t kill each other. You aren’t the enemies; the people out there are.”
It was abrupt, the drop of our hands like he was washing his own clean. He walked between us, stepping in droplets of blood, and muttered over his shoulder. “Clean up your mess.”
It was a double meaning; we both knew that.
Clean up the blood.
And clean up the brokenness and hatred between us, but some things were easier said than done, some scars you purposefully keep fresh because what the hell would happen if they healed?
“Yeah, Ivan, clean up the mess,” Bella said, mentally slapping me out of my own morose thoughts and insecurities, it was her gift, and it made the anger even stronger, the hatred that I could never fully grasp. I knew I felt it, and I directed it at her, but I never truly knew why it bothered me so much which bothered me more, because then I wondered if there was something innately wrong with me, my bloodline, my personality, and then the thoughts went to…
You’re. Just. Like. Them. The De Langes, and one day, you’ll prove it right and the castle will crumble beneath your feet, leaving nothing but dust.
Phoenix stopped at the door. “Bella, rule number fourteen.”
“No provoking Ivan,” she said under her breath.
Looking over his shoulder, Phoenix said, “Get along or I’ll have both your heads, and Bella I don’t care that Nixon’s my best friend, he’d encourage it, you’ve been spoiled way too long. It’s time to grow the hell up.”
With that, he left the living room. The silence was deafening. We’d pushed him too far—we’d pushed all of them too far, and for what? Rage built up in my soul when I stared down at the drops of blood on the carpet, I had only one choice in order to tamper it down, the abandonment and the very real feel of blood being on my own hands and never being enough no matter what I did, not having a life despite lives being taken from me, no identity outside of what I was born into. I blamed her. I looked at her and thought to myself that somehow it was her fault, her Family’s fault, and I clung to it, because looking inside was too hard. I flashed her a smirk. “Think OxiClean will do it or not?” I stepped on it and smushed it into the carpet. “Maybe you should hurry up and get on your hands and knees? Should be pretty natural for you, though I am curious… do you close your eyes or keep them open?”
“I loathe you.” She grabbed the rag and rubbed it further into the carpet with her tall black boot, refusing to get on her knees like I knew she would.
