The Devil (BOOK I + II)

2 | "You Missed, Asshole"

Chapter Two
   "You Missed, Asshole"

"you never know how strong you are
until being strong is your only choice,"
— bob marley

┏━━━━━━━┓

   Breakfast. Fucking breakfast.

   I hadn't taken papa's speech seriously. Breakfast and dinner. You will be joining me and your brothers every day for a meal without complaints.

   So, I learned the hard way, refusing to go to fucking breakfast.

   The day after he barged into my room, a wake up call consisting of two maids entered my room. Fear was exposed on their expression before they mumbled that my attendance was required for breakfast in Russian.

   I smiled but told them a simple answer. No.

   Their eyes widened but didn't say anything else before they scurried off.

   At first, I smirked, satisfied with myself in already pissing off my family. But when I started to get comfortable in my bed again, laying my head on my silk pillowcases, the door to my bedroom burst open.

   Everything after that was a blur.

   One second, I was laying under the covers, the next, papa was standing at the entryway with a firm jaw, watching as I was scooped up by Yasha. Without even considering if I was naked or not, I was dragged out of my room and away from the east wing before us and half a dozen guards reached the bottom floor.

   Half a dozen guards. Again, I felt honoured.

   And also luckily, I had been wearing a tee and shorts. So, no nudity today.

   That morning had been the first time I'd seen all my siblings—at least, all at the same time. With Micah, I'd faced him before Daemon fucked my life, and I even saw a picture of him from Rolie. But Vladik and Lev...

   I was staring at ghosts.

   They might as well have been.

   The entire meal, the table was silent. With papa at the head, munching down his food, Micah on his left, and Vladik on his right. Since there was about three feet of space between the chairs, I was at far from arms reach from my family.

   They were distant, physically and emotionally, not that I blamed them.

   No one looked at me. No one talked. Not even the people bringing food from the kitchen. The entire estate was silent.

   That was, until papa pushed his chair back, followed by it screeching against the floor.

   His eyes had been dead set on me, no emotion in place before he ordered the guards in Russian, "Take her back to her room. She does not leave until dinner."

   And with that, Yasha led me back. Daemon was nowhere to be found.

   Better for him, though. If I saw him, I'd probably kill him.

   Just the thought of him burned rage through me.

   Anyway, the moral of the story was: don't fuck with breakfast.

   So when the next morning came, followed by two maids warning me of my ten minutes to get ready, I stomped out of bed and went to the bathroom, wanting to have an excuse to being late.

   I dressed, extra slow. Brushed my teeth slower. Flipped off the camera a few times.

   I was probably twenty minutes late when a fist banged the door from the entryway, making me smirk to myself. But the humor I wanted to feel was absent. Every move felt forced.