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Inhaling sharply, I know I need to hurry. “I–I should go. I’m sorry about Carl, and thank you for being kind.” With a tight smile, I spin, quickly rush into the apartment, and close the door. Hurrying right to my room, I try to barricade myself inside before my brother can ridicule me further, but I’m too late. Carl slams the door open, forcing me to hit the wall with a loud thud. Pain instantly erupts in my head, and I slide to the floor.
“Who the fuck do you think you are, spoiled fucking bitch? I never should have said yes to you staying here.” Grasping a chunk of my hair, Carl tosses me across the room so that I land on the bed before he comes over and climbs on top of me, fist raised. I cover my face. “I should fucking kill you and be done with it already,” he spits out before I feel the blow.
My chin wobbles as blood fills my mouth, but I remain silent, knowing full well that he’ll attack further if I make a sound. Satisfied, he climbs off me with a sneer and slams the door closed behind him. I hear the lock click in place that he installed on the outside, and I want to cry. He won’t open the door until morning, which means no bathroom, no shower, nothing. I’m stuck in my room with only the water bottle I keep in here for instances like this because this isn’t the first time he’s done this to me, either.
Stripping out of my clothes, I change into a long shirt and leggings before grabbing the water and my journal and stepping out onto the tiny balcony off my room. Placing the items on the small table out here, I stare out at New York City, and again, I marvel at how beautiful such a crowded place can be. The tall buildings are endless, and as I gaze down at the street below, I wonder, not for the first time, if this is where I should end.
CHAPTER 2
Chaos
“Birdie,” I say for the tenth time. It’s an odd name, but it suits her.
“I want to kill him,” my brother grumbles again, meaning the man she lives with and the one who touched her.
Vicious is a different breed of male. He’s animalistic and wild. Everyone thinks because of the glasses that he’s some kind of nerd or genius, and maybe they’re right, I haven’t a fucking clue, but he doesn’t show it. No, Vicious Marshall is a stone-cold killer, and until his cursing downstairs, I didn’t think he had an emotional bone in his jacked body, but she awoke something in the beast, and I know it won’t be long before I’m unable to contain him. So, for the sake of my brother’s sanity and the pain in my own dick from being full for so many hours, I need to get her body between us.
After her reaction getting off the elevator, I don’t think it’ll be impossible.
“We have a meeting,” I remind him.
Snapping his teeth, Vic growls as I go out into the hallway to greet our guest. A man who owes us close to a hundred thousand dollars after all his reckless betting on the ponies over the last two months.
“I want her,” Vic’s voice grumbles as he prowls around our penthouse. “She needs us.” The sound of flesh hitting the punching bag we keep in the living room erupts and echoes through the hall from the force of his impact.
“Calm the fuck down already. You’ll get her when it's time,” I snap at him.
“Us,” he retorts. “Ours, she’s ours.” Satisfaction lifts the corner of my mouth at his defense. Vic and I aren’t brothers by blood. We grew up in the foster system together, and until our last home when we were fourteen, we bounced around a lot. Our social worker learned quickly that if she didn’t want Vicious nearly killing someone, he needed me. It’s thanks to the man in the last home that we didn’t land in prison. Instead, here we are, ten years after being aged out of the system, successful, and graduating from loan sharks to running a security company.
“Mr. Marshall?” My guest, Roger Fields, steps off the elevator.
“Come on in, Rog.” I grin as he walks forward on shaking legs. Nobody likes coming to see us because they know Vicious will be present, and my brother is quite literally a caged beast. As he crosses the threshold, Vicious lets out a loud roar as he continues to pummel the bag hanging from the ceiling.
Roger stops in the middle of the room, nearly shaking in his boots. “Don’t worry, Rog, his rage isn’t aimed at you. 'Cause you have our money, don’t you, Roger?” My tone is friendly, but my grip across his shoulder might bruise as I squeeze tightly.
“Oh, uhm, well, you see–”
“Roger, we had an agreement. I was fair with you, wasn’t I?” Staring down at him, fear infiltrates his eyes.
“I have half. My daughter was in an accident, and my insurance didn’t cover everything. She needs surgeries.” His gaze doesn’t stray, so I find myself inclined to believe him.
“Bring me the bills, Roger. Show me proof, and I’ll forgive you the other half.” Silence engulfs the room as Vicious stops his beating to stare at me in shock. Tears shine bright in Roger's eyes, as well. “What? I can be nice.” I don’t need the money back; Vic and I have all we need for a few lifetimes, on account of the man who adopted us.
“Thank you, Mr. Marshall. Thank you. You won’t regret this.” Oh, I’m sure I will.
“If I don’t see the medical bills in the next seventy-two hours, Roger, Vicious will be the one visiting your daughter.” The man pales as he nods vigorously before darting out the door after handing me the bag with the half he did have.
As the door closes behind the older man, Vic continues to stare at me. “I don’t kill kids.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t even kick his ass.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Why’d you let him off, then?” Vicious’ face expresses his confusion.
Staring at the wall that hides Birdie, I shrug. “I want her. Can’t have her if I kill a man.”
