Red Thorns (Thorns Duet #1) by Rina Kent

I tighten my hold on the steering wheel. My grandparents are like sharks to blood, the moment they smell weakness, they latch on to it until they bring you down by using it.

That’s what they did to Dad and have been trying to do to me and Nate.

We held on for so long.

Or at least, my uncle did. Looks like I allowed them to smell my blood after all.

“You have two options, Sebastian. Drop the seamstress's daughter as gently or as cruelly as you prefer, or watch as she breaks her neck. Be here in fifteen.”

Beep.

I slam the breaks so hard, the car nearly topples over. My fist drives into the steering wheel and I’m surprised it doesn’t come off.

Pain reverberates in my knuckles, but it doesn’t compare to the warring state in my chest.

When my parents died in that car accident and my grandparents adopted me, I learned something.

In order to survive, I needed to play their sadistic games. I needed to act a certain way, speak a certain way, and even smile a certain way.

It’s all part of the social play the Weavers have excelled at for generations. To be able to carry on with the legacy, I had to be strong-minded enough to lead the family, but I wasn’t allowed to step out of the norm.

Up to this point, I’ve been the perfect Weaver neither Dad nor Nate could be.

But the image I’ve spent years perfecting is slowly crumbling in front of me. And that brings on one urge.

The only urge I have.

The need for violence.

I kick the car in gear, driving at a crazy speed until I’m back at Naomi’s house. Fuck Grandma’s gathering. If she’s holding a guillotine over my head, I might as well indulge.

I fully expect Naomi’s mom to tell me she still hasn’t come home, but I pause when I find her car in the driveway.

A small space in my heart lights up as I step out of the vehicle the fastest I ever have.

My feet come to a halt as soon as I cross the distance to the porch. A lone yellow light shines on a small figure sitting on the outside steps.

Naomi.

Her head is in her hands as she stares out at the distance. A quick sweep of the driveway shows only her car, so her mom must be at work late, as usual.

There’s always some shipment going wrong or a design that didn’t meet her standards. Naomi often grumbles about how much of an unhealthy workaholic her mom is.

She doesn’t notice me as I slowly approach her. It’s not until I’m a small distance away that I notice the shaking in her shoulders and the defeat bowing her usually upright posture. Goosebumps cover her bare arms from the slight chill and I want to hurt an invisible being for causing her discomfort.

My Naomi looks so breakable, so fragile, almost like she could be ruined with a mere touch.

I came here charged with anger and the need for violence, but as I observe her state, all those thoughts vanish from my system.

“Baby.”

She stiffens as she slowly lifts her head. I expect to find tears in her gaze, but there are none.

I wish she was crying, kicking, or screaming. I wish she’d jump up and strangle me and knee me in the balls.

Any of those options are better than the blank stare in her eyes. They’re dark under the lack of light, but it’s as if no soul resides behind them.

Washed away.

Just like the rest of her expression.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” I say quietly because any other volume would probably have the exact opposite effect.

She jerks up suddenly. The motion happens in one go, I expect her to come at me, but she simply turns and stomps to her front door.

Not so fast.

I grab her by the arm and swing her around. She slaps me across the face, and a muscle works in my jaw at the force of it.

She sure as fuck knows how to put all her weight behind her hits.

“Leave me alone.” Her voice is guttural, raw, almost like she’s used up all her other emotions and all she has left is anger.

I know that feeling all too well. I’ve lived it since I lost my parents, and I don’t want her to experience the same emptiness.

Not on my fucking watch.

“You should know by now that I won’t. We’re bound together, Naomi.”

“Bound together?” She scoffs. “By what? Your lies? Your fucking games? Reina’s bets? You already won. You fucked me, depraved me, and humiliated me to your heart’s content, so go gloat about it to your stupid friends and leave me be.”

The apathy behind her words pisses me off. People think hate is the worst emotion, but it’s not.

Indifference is.

The fact that Naomi could write me off so easily provokes my ugly monster to rear its head.

“That’s where you’re wrong, baby. I can’t leave you when I’m not done with you.”

“Well, I fucking am, Sebastian! I played your game, however unwillingly, and it’s time to end it.”

“Unwillingly? Fuck that. You enjoyed every chase as much as I did. Your cunt strangled my dick with the intensity of your excitement and fear, and you came more than either of us could count. So don’t stand there and utter the word unwillingly.”

“That was only physical. I never signed up to be emotionally abused! So, yes, Sebastian, it’s over. The next time you come near me or attempt to touch me, I’m going to file for a restraining order.”

“And you think a restraining order would stop me?”