Chapter Thirty Six

Reagan's POV


As much as I tried to understand what had just happened, my mind couldn't seem to wrap around it.

Bryson's sudden cold treatment had left me confused, if not had my heart clench a bit - a slight pang in the heart from this unexpected frosty relation. I just don't understand; even though we had history together, we first started out as close friends. We knew that it'd be stupid to throw that away and we proved that when I came back after two years, but this... this was all too sudden for me and from knowing him inside and out, he isn't the kind of guy who would go frigid for no apparent reason.

Something was definitely off with this scenario.

Shaking my head, I decided to corner him later at lunch and demand for an explanation. Besides, he did want to talk to me and I was curious.

With a sigh, I headed over to my locker to get the necessary books for my morning class. Just as I was about to open my locker, an annoyingly familiar voice chirped up, making me grind the edges my teeth together.

"Hello, Reagan."

Great. Just what I needed. Somebody please shoot me in the head...

I gathered up the necessary books and roughly shoved them on my backpack then zipped it closed. "What do you want, Ciara," I asked, irritation leaking out of voice. Slamming the locker shut, I slung my backpack to my shoulder and turn to face the she-devil.

She smirked. "Oh, nothing," she said. "Am I not allowed to talk to my best friend?"

I snorted. "Best friend?" I asked. Man, she must be high or something. "Please, Ciara. You are nothing but a backstabbing bitch."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Whatever. I just came here to tell you that Bryson and I are back together."

I frowned. "I thought you guys are over and you're telling me because...?"

Why on Earth should I know about this? It was none of my business and I thought Bryson despised Ciara? I guess not, apparently, since they are back together.

Uncrossing her arms, she moved closer to me and got up all in my face, her eyes narrowed to thin slits. ‘Invading my personal bubble, are we, ‘ I thought wryly. "You listen to me and you listen good," she began. "Bryson is mine. Do you hear me? He doesn't love you, that's why we got back together. He realized that he was being stupid and he promised to never leave me for some pathetic girl like you."

I scoffed and took a step back. "The one who's pathetic here is you," I said, staring straight into her eyes. "Your territorial attitude goes to show that you are insecure."

She glared at me. "I am not insecure. Why would I be?" she asked in a snotty manner as she raised her chin. "Bryson loves me. I'm just warning you, that's all."

How desperate.

"You know," I said, tilting my head to the side, "I find it strange for Bryson to go Ice Queen on me today. Knowing him, he's not the kind of person to be mad for no particular reason. He's not that shallow. You should know that, Ciara."

Her shoulders went stiff and thanks to my super sensitive hearing, her heart beat accelerated to a million beats per second. "He just came to his senses that he doesn't love you and you had been leading him on," she defended.

"Why is your heart beating so fast, Ciara?" I taunted. "Hm? Why is it?"

"N-Nothing," she stuttered. "I just remembered that Bryson has a surprise for me today. I'm just excited, so that explains my rapid heart beat."

I laughed quietly. "Oh really?" I asked and she nodded. "I never led him on. It would be wrong of me to do that. I know Bryson; he's a good guy and would never do such a thing."

"Well, he's different now," she replied in total defiance.

I shook my head. "Whatever it is you did to him, I hope it won't come back and bite you in the ass."

The bell signaling for first period cut through our intense conversation, ending it prematurely and I turned to walk away, heading for class.

I intend to find out what she did to Bryson, and I have a feeling she did more than just mumbo- jumbo.

* * *

Derek's POV

"Are you sure, Cooper?" I asked. "Are you certain about this?"

On the outside, I showed the facade of extreme calm, but on the inside, I was seething with beastly rage. I knew Marcus is a scoundrel; it didn't surprise me that he would go to extreme lengths just to get rid of me because of my beliefs. Adding my older brother, Darren, to the picture is just plain dirty. For so long, my brother resented me just because I inherited the title as an Elder. Father wanted me, not him, and like the Golden Boy that I am, I complied without a word. It was father's wishes, so what could he do?

Nothing.

Until now, with the help of that scheming, heartless Pureblood called Marcus Emannuelle Santiago!

Cooper nodded, looking solemn. "Marcus is going to open a case against you, have you strip off your title and be replaced by Darren," he said. "He had the Elders convinced that you attacked him back in Santorini Island."

That's outrageous! The brute provoked me and how in the world did he convince the Elders? He had no proof whatsoever!

I stood up from my leather chair and went about to pace in my study. "He doesn't have proof," I muttered hotly.

"Actually, he does," Cooper supplied, and I froze from my pacing. "He had pictures of you holding him by the neck and by some odd reason, the Black Watchers and Aramis had vouched to his claim. Luke, Ryder, Reagan and I's involvement will be raised as well."

Where in the blazing hell did he get someone to take pictures?!

Hands curled into fists, I emitted my dark aura, signifying my rage. This was not due process. Not at all. Marcus just went about and steamrolled right ahead and now, my Reagan would be involved in this mess. Just as I was about to say something snippy, an electric current swarmed the atmosphere, the static nipping at my alabaster skin.

As the static currents had decreased, my anger escalated to a ten-fold when a deep, a distinctive voice I haven't heard for decades greeted me with mock pleasantry.

"Hello, my little brother."

Shoot me now, why don't you? God, I sound like Reagan.

Turning around, I came face-to-face with my older brother. Indeed we are related, but we hold no physical commonality. He inherited mother's blond hair and cerulean blue eyes while I had father's dark brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was taller than me by two inches, which made him a good six-foot-four. He had more bulk since I was on the lean side, but that doesn't matter. I’ve never been intimidated by him. Never was. Never will.

"Darren, what are you doing here?" I asked through clenched teeth as I eyed him over in his crisped all-black suit ensemble as his diagonal white striped tie stood out. "Nice tie by the way," I added, feigning interest.

He smirked. "Thanks. It's Armani."

Figures.

"Why are you here?" I asked again, annoyance leaking out my voice.

He smirked. "Still the same - snippy," he said, chuckling lightly. "Can’t I just say hi to my little brother?" he asked, trying to look innocent; believe me, he is anything but innocent.

I glowered at him. “Why bother?” I asked, trying to keep my calm. Seeing his face was bringing back unwanted memories, especially what he did to me all those decades ago. “You hate me, dear big brother, and the last time we saw each other, you were getting married to my ex-fiance.”

“Still dwelling in the past are we?” he asked, looking amused.

“No, I am not,” I told him. “I’m just trying to remind you.”

“Oh brother, brother,” he crooned, walking towards me. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. “Since you aren’t so happy to see me, I guess I’ll cut to the chase.”

“Spit it out then.”

Smiling, he leaned a bit close to my face. “I just wanted to tell you that you will lose everything and nothing would be left for you to salvage.”

I knew what he meant and I had to play dumb, not giving myself away that I knew. “What do you mean, brother?”

He chuckled. “You will soon find out,” he said. "Well, I have to go,” he informed and then turned his back to me. “Miranda is waiting for me. " Of course, he had a blasted wife to go home to. “I’ll see you soon.”

With that, he was gone.

* * *

Reagan's POV


Cornering Bryson is harder than I thought.

At lunch he was nowhere to be found, including Ciara. During the few classes we had together, he was quick to get out of the room before I had the chance to confront him, and Ciara would immediately cling herself like a monkey baby on him.

She is definitely at the top of my list of being a ding-a-ling.

The final bell had already rang thirty minutes ago; the halls were empty and my pursuit for Bryson was pointless. There's always tomorrow I guess, and if he does the same thing, I could maim the jerk. Yeah, that could work. If it doesn't, then, I could maim him some more.

As I walked along the deserted hallway, I saw someone leaning over my locker, and to my surprise, it was Bryson. His eyes were closed tight, his expression held a grimace as though he was in pain. Without a second a thought, I rushed towards him and knelt to his level.

"Brys, you okay?" I asked worriedly.

He groaned, clutching his head. "My head hurts like hell."

I frowned. "Since when did it start?"

"Last period," he told me. "I thought it was just a headache, but it got intense by the-- ARGH!"

"Oh god! Brys!" I exclaimed, reaching out for his head, but as soon as my fingertips touched his forehead, my vision became hazy and suddenly, I was catapulted into snippets of images.

There were all black and white, shaky, flashing forwards and backwards, but as I tried to focus on the people in those images and what was transpiring, a certain image came into slight focus; it was shaky and I was trying my best to make out of it and then. I saw Bryson, tied to a chair and a man with raven black hair and pitch black eyes. He was putting a hand on Bryson’s forehead; I was certain that man was doing something to Bryson, and when my attention flicked to the person behind him, suspicion grew in me.

Ciara was standing there, smiling like a Cheshire Cat.

All too soon, I was jolted back to reality as though someone had forcefully pulled me out of the vision with such force that I slammed my back into a hard surface and knocked the wind out of me. That’s going to leave a mark.

“I told you to stay away from him!”

Peeling my eyes open with a grunt, I saw Ciara, cradling an unconscious Bryson, like her life depended on it. “I told you, I told you to stay away from him!” she screamed, tears streaming down her eyes.

“Ciara, what did you do?” I asked, still breathless from the impact.

“Nothing! I did nothing!” she screeched with such torment that it showed on her face. She looked desperate, borderline panic, making her eyes looked crazed. “You shouldn’t have come near him!” With one last hateful glare, Ciara de-materialized.