Hate and chaos the compl.., p.1
Hate & Chaos : The Complete Duet, page 1
Copyright © 2021 Bleeding Heart Press
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Editing by Kelly Allenby
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CONTENTS
Touch of Hate
Blurb
1. Ren
2. Scarlet
3. Ren
4. Scarlet
5. Scarlet
6. Ren
7. Scarlet
8. Ren
9. Scarlet
10. Scarlet
11. Scarlet
12. Ren
13. Scarlet
14. Ren
15. Scarlet
16. Ren
17. Scarlet
18. Ren
19. Scarlet
20. Scarlet
21. Ren
22. Scarlet
23. Ren
24. Scarlet
25. Ren
26. Scarlet
27. Ren
28. Ren
29. Scarlet
30. Scarlet
Touch of Chaos
1. Scarlet
2. River
3. Scarlet
4. Scarlet
5. Scarlet
6. Ren
7. Scarlet
8. Ren
9. Ren
10. Scarlet
11. Scarlet
12. Ren
13. Ren
14. River
15. Scarlet
16. Scarlet
17. Ren
18. Scarlet
19. Scarlet
20. Ren
21. Scarlet
22. Ren
23. Scarlet
24. Scarlet
25. Ren
26. Scarlet
27. Ren
28. Ren
29. Scarlet
30. Ren
Epilogue
Bonus Epilogue
About the C. Hallman
TOUCH OF HATE
Betrayal cuts the deepest.
I would know better than anyone.
They never suspected me to be the villain.
That didn’t matter anymore, though, because I didn’t just want revenge, I needed it.
Leaving my old life behind, I knew I could never return, but there was something… no, someone I had left behind.
Scarlet.
Kind. Innocent. Fragile.
She was a light in the darkness of my life.
Back then, she was always meant to be mine, even if having her meant breaking every single rule.
Now enemies or not, she would still be mine.
1
REN
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I yell at the computer screen while pacing the living room. “Attacking Aspen was not a part of the plan.”
River doesn’t care that I’m upset and want to wring his neck.
He never does.
Which is half the problem. He’s always doing something dangerous or violent, and he never sticks to the fucking plan.
“I don’t know why you are getting your panties in a bunch. You shouldn’t care about her or the rest of the Rossi family, for that matter. They’re not your family; Luna and I are. No one else matters.”
“Just because they’re not my family doesn’t mean we need to kill them.”
“It also doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. They’re weighing you down, distracting you from what really matters.” River shrugs before leaning back in his chair. Lifting his arms, he leisurely folds them behind his head. “Come on, Ren, you knew this was coming. I’ve been telling you for years.”
“You have been telling me for years that we have to get away from them and get revenge on Safe Haven; you said nothing about casualties.”
I stop pacing and flop down on the couch across from my laptop. River’s black hair is longer on the top, and some strands cover half of his forehead and one eye. He’s tall and skinny, but his shoulders are wide, and his hands appear rough, the knuckles beaten and bruised like he’s spent hours fighting someone.
“Casualties are unavoidable in a war. Plus, we need to keep everyone busy, so no one looks into what you are doing with your little girlfriend.” The snideness in his voice makes my insides clench.
All my defenses go up. I don’t like anyone knowing how I feel about Scarlet, not even River.
Least of all River.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“No?” He smirks, but his smile is villainous. “So you’re not sneaking around at night while your precious Scarlet’s visiting Corium with her family, watching her every minute you can? Those stolen glances, when your gaze lingers too long. I’m sure I don’t even have to mention the way you look at her when Quinton is in the room? Do you think he’s blind?”
When I don’t reply right away, he continues. “You should really be thanking me for taking the heat off your ass.”
“Nobody is on my ass.”
His grin widens. “Thanks to me.”
“Whatever you say.” I suppress an eye roll and get up from my seat. “I’m heading out.”
“In the middle of the night? Gee, I wonder where you’re going,” he mocks. I ignore his dig and shut the laptop down without a goodbye.
Ever since Quinton moved in with Aspen, I’ve had the apartment to myself. It was also around that time when River started to visit Corium more frequently. I still haven’t figured out how he gets in and out, but then again, sneaking around has always been one of his many talents.
I shut the door behind me, letting the dark silence of the hallway swallow me. Keeping my steps light, I walk down the hall and toward the elevators. The corridor is quiet, but that’s expected, given the time.
Once inside, I press the S button and head to the surface. Everything here at Corium is state of the art, but even this brand-new, stainless-steel elevator takes twenty-five seconds to get me from deep inside the Alaskan ground to the surface.
As it turns out, twenty-five seconds can stretch into an eternity when you’re chastising yourself. No one has to tell me what I’m doing is wrong.
I know it. Obviously, I’ve had every opportunity to stop this in its tracks. This being the connection I have with Scarlet.
I imagine drug addicts going through this cycle that’s plagued me for months. Telling myself it’s wrong and I need to quit cold turkey. No more clandestine meetings. No more secret glances and hidden smiles. One of us has to be strong. She has no intention of walking away, so it has to be me.
That attitude lasts a few days, maybe even a few weeks. I can push her out of my mind. I might even laugh at myself for ever thinking it’s possible to be free of the pull she has on me.
Then? Something always happens to bring her rushing to the forefront once again. I’ll walk in on a video call she’s having with Q and hear her voice, her soft laughter. It will stir the familiar craving deep in my soul.
I’ll remember the way she whispers my name. The dark thrill of her pleading for my touch. I’ll savor those memories in a frantic attempt at staving off the hunger that begins to grow, to consume me, replaying them in my head while I jerk off. Doing anything I can to keep myself away from her.
Soon, memories aren’t enough, and I need the real thing. She’ll haunt my every waking thought until I’m sure I’ll either die or go insane if I don’t get a taste of her, her scent, her touch—anything, so long as the craving ceases.
My craving is at its peak by the time the elevator doors slide open with a quiet whoosh. It wouldn’t seem so necessary to bask in the warmth of her nearness were she not present in the sprawling castle portion of the structure.
Having her here ratchets my need to unbearable heights. It doesn’t matter how wrong I know this is as I cut down dark halls I know like the back of my hand, always watchful for any sign of Xander Rossi’s presence. Scarlet’s father would cut our little meeting short, no doubt. He’d cut off my balls and dangle them in front of my face before shoving them down my throat.
All is clear when I reach what I know are the rooms the Rossi family takes when they visit. Scarlet is in there, checking the time and plotting her escape. It’s late enough that Xander and Ella might be asleep—well, Ella might be. Xander is most likely working the way he nearly always is. You don’t run an empire as vast as his without putting in plenty of hours.
Either way, it’s unlikely he’d notice his daughter sneaking out, which is what we’re counting on.
I watch, hidden in a recessed doorway a few rooms down from where Scarlet will emerge. My heart’s beating way too fast, and my palms are damp with sweat, which I rub dry on my jeans. River would laugh himself sick if he had the slightest idea what anticipation does to my body as I count the seconds until she appears. My greatest weakness. My obsession.
The click of the latch might be lost if there was any other noise in the silent hall—now, it might as well be the crack of a gunshot. My breath catches in my throat as a door swings open just enough for a petite body to slip through.
The fist clenching my heart loosens at the sight of her, replaced by an explosion of pure heat. What is it about her that sets me off and makes me want to forget everything I know in favor of losing myself in her firm, luscious body?
This is wrong, but then I’ve always known it. Following her, watching her. For years I’ve done it, though the motive has changed.
Back in the day, I protected the girl who was almost as much of a sister to me as Luna. She’s stubborn, determined to have her way even if it means defying her parents, leaving her open to potential threats.
After all, she has a powerful father with countless enemies lying in the wake of his business dealings. Not to mention, she’s incredibly trusting.
I’ve learned to keep my tread light, to embrace the shadows so she won’t notice my presence. It’s become second nature.
Until less than a year ago…
That changed the night Xander invited the Grimaldi family to dinner. The memory presses against my temples, playing right before my eyes.
“Where is Scarlet?”
Q frowns at my whispered question, cutting a glance toward his father and tonight’s guest of honor. Lorenzo Grimaldi might be low-level compared to the Rossi wealth and influence, but he does control a major shipping port on the coast through which he runs tens of millions of dollars of merchandise every year. Extremely valuable merchandise of the narcotic variety.
In other words, it benefits Xander to keep him close. It’s easier to make him think he’s a part of the family. Indispensable.
This isn’t the first such meal shared with a business connection. As always, we’re all on our best behavior. A silent, respectful testament to Xander Rossi’s hold over his family. There’s no speaking out of turn, no joking or screwing around. No teasing our sisters for lack of anything else to do.
My sister picks at her grilled salmon while wearing a pleasant expression.
It’s the empty chair beside her that has my insides tightening a bit more with every passing moment.
This is her home. Scarlet is entirely at liberty to go where she pleases.
Just not now, though. We’re all expected to be at the table.
She knows that. That’s what has me listening for the sound of her footfalls. We all know better than to wander off or be late.
My eye falls upon a second empty chair—it sits between Grimaldi and his wife. He’s bending Xander’s ear on some matter of business, murmuring and gesturing with his silverware, while she and Ella chat about place settings or some inane bullshit like that.
Neither of them pays attention to the absence of their son, eighteen-year-old Enzo. He looks like a fucking ferret with his thin face and pointy features. His beady eyes are always moving in a secretive sort of way that leaves red flags waving like mad in my head.
Even if I hadn’t already heard stories of him bragging about taking over his father’s business and his penchant for spreading merchandise among his lowlife friends, I’d be on my guard around him. He’s the kind of guy who’ll smile in your face as he’s slipping your most priceless heirloom in his pocket while fondling your sister with his other hand.
My chest tightens at the thought. I can’t make the image materialize in my head—it’s that disgusting—but I don’t need to see it to know it’s possible.
Scarlet would never take this long to get back to the table if it wasn’t for someone holding her up.
“I’ll look for her,” I offer, already pushing my chair away from the table while folding my napkin.
It wouldn’t do for Xander’s son to leave during the discussion of important matters, but I can take my discreet leave without raising any eyebrows.
Once I’m out of the dining room, I force myself to take a slow, steady breath. I’ve already convinced myself the bastard has forced himself on top of her, and the extreme reaction my body experiences is one I need to tamp down. My clenched fists swing at my sides, and my heart thumps against my ribs.
If I grind my teeth any harder, I’ll need a trip to the dentist.
This is Scarlet. Yes, the very grown-up dress she wore tonight had me doing a double take; I can admit that to myself. Neither of her parents would allow her to walk around looking like a slut, and she doesn’t, but she certainly looks older than her fifteen years.
At some point, when I wasn’t paying attention, she developed a woman’s body. Fuller, curvier, showcased to perfection in a light summer dress that’s both sweet and sexy—sexy because of its sweetness, I now understand.
I’m a pervert even thinking this way, but facts are facts. She’s grown up. Now comes a new phase of her life, one which I’m sure she believes she’s ready for, though I doubt she has the first idea of what it will entail.
For instance, she’d never think twice about getting up to use the bathroom in her own family’s home. It wouldn’t occur to her that a piece of shit like Enzo Grimaldi would follow her in hopes of getting her alone.
I’ll fucking kill him if he’s touched a hair on her head.
“We’d better get back to the dining room.”
I hear her before I see her. The tightness in her voice has the effect of setting a match to a fuse. A fuse connected to a powder keg. The powder keg being me.
My pace quickens, shoes slapping against the marble floor in a furious rhythm. Were I not this close to losing my shit, I might take pains to walk quietly and sneak up on them. It would hardly be the first time I’ve crept up on Scarlet over the years while watching over her stubborn ass. She’s so sure she’s in control of herself and that nothing can touch her.
She’s a Rossi through and through.
Normally, that would leave me fighting back a proud grin.
Not now. I’m too busy seeing red.
The powder room door is open, and the room is empty.
“Please, leave me alone.” It’s coming from the library, one door down, and it’s tighter and higher in pitch than before. “I mean it. We have to get back to the dining room.”
“Why? So we can die of boredom?” he asks just as I enter. “I find the view before me to be much better.”
My stomach turns at the sight of Scarlet trapped on a leather sofa, her fair skin flushed, her blue eyes so large they appear to come out of her face.
He’s leaning over her with his much larger body trapping her, holding her in place with an arm on either side of her head. When she attempts to slip under one of those arms, he merely leans in closer, lowering his head to sniff her neck while she recoils, whimpering in fear and misery.
I’m no stranger to rage.
It’s a normal state of being for me, something I must guard myself against. It’s important that I vent it from time to time when the stakes are low so that I control it before it can control me.
The occasional fight, a hard workout, that sort of thing.
There’s no controlling this.
I don’t think my feet touch the floor as I fly across the room.
“What the hell is going on?” I demand, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him back. All things considered, I’m proud of myself. If I had my way, I’d tear his fucking arm off and beat him to death with it.
How dare he? Who the fuck does he think he is?
I know who he is—the son of an important family associate.
Which is the only reason his arm remains attached to his shoulder. Why I stop at merely pulling him away from her instead of taking the marble bust from its nearby stand and slamming it into his head.
“What’s your problem?” he questions, his beady eyes narrowing while he straightens out his rumpled suit jacket. “The fuck?”
