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“Autumn it is,” Dorian says, a tiny smile on his face at the two of us. “Now get over here and sit on my lap so we can tattoo a ring on you.”
Octavia’s giggle cuts off mid laugh, her face dropping as the fury she had a few minutes ago comes rushing back.
“Tattoo?!”
Uh-oh. Should not have said that. I would not like to be the one on the end of that tone.
“If you think we would put a ring on your finger that could easily come off, then you still have some things to learn, little si-”
Oh shit!
Octavia rears her arm back and clocks Dorian in the throat, cutting him off mid-word. He splutters, grabbing his neck, wheezing, almost doubled over. I cackle with laughter, holding my stomach as I wipe tears from my eyes.
“Pretty girl, that was awesom-”
Fuck!
She knees me right in the balls, and I fall to the floor like a sack of shit. Should have seen that coming. She glares at us, marching out of the room with her middle finger in the air, slamming the door behind her.
Dorian and I stare at each other, trying to get our breath back, then laugh gleefully like the carefree kids we never got to be.
I fucking love that woman.
17
Octavia
“Stupid.”Swing.
“Controlling.”Swing.
“Bull headed.”Swing.
“Manic, psychotic, bastards!”
I scream each word, swinging my bat, destroying everything in their room. Bastian’s hiding spot for all his favourite weapons is still the same place, and the wooden bat covered in barbed wire screamed my name, tempting me to pick it up and permanently damage something that belonged to them like they did to me.
Nothing in my life has been in my control. Not my clothes, my hair, my make-up, what I eat.Nothing. I try to take control of my body in any way I can with what little means I have. They took that away just a little more with something permanent—another thing someone controlled.
“Fuck you,” I screech, swinging my bat against a huge wooden chest, hitting it repeatedly until my joints burned. Black feathers fall out of the cracks I’m making, floating in the air around me.
“What the…” I mutter, a feather flying into my face, tickling my nose. The feeling of déjà vu swamps my veins, the image extremely familiar.
“Wow. Now this is what I call a tantrum. What the fuck did they do, little mouse?”
Ghost’s deep voice makes me jump, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. He's right behind me, silently entering the room, his footsteps so quiet that I didn't even realise it.
“I amnothaving a tantrum,” I seethe, taking a few steps back. Dorian would scold me for that move.‘Never show them any weakness, even when you’re so terrified, you think your heart is about to stop.’
I’ve never been fantastic at that. I was born wrong in more ways than one when it comes to this family. Prey in a family of predators, they always used to say, but they used to promise that they would be my demons in a world of monsters.
My demons.Huh.
“You really don’t call this a tantrum?” Ghost extends his arms, swooping around at the mess I caused.
Clothes are scattered everywhere on the floor, the wardrobes and drawers splintered and shattered. Their mirrors are smashed, Dorian’s chair has chunks taken out of it where the barbed wire caught it. The mattress on the bed is destroyed.
It’s not like Ihatetheir names on my body. In fact, when I think about it, a warm glow seeps through my stomach at being branded, being owned by them. But it should have beenmychoice. Still, I might have gone a bit overboard on destroying all their stuff, especially the two things I left on the tattered bed.
