Chapter-59

"It seems, you’re my stepbrother,” I blurted. Then shrugging, I continued, “My mom…your dad."

For a moment, something flickered in Lucien's eyes, something that might have been admission of former knowledge of the fact. But whatever it was, it was quickly hidden. "Okay, so?" he asked, his voice taking on a slight edge as he shifted a little straighter in his chair.

“Well, don’t you think it makes our relationship a little…awkward?” I murmured.

"No. Do you?" Lucien's voice sounded like more of a snap than a question.

"Honestly? Yeah, I kinda do,” I returned, defensiveness entering my voice.

"And why should the fact your mom is married to my dad change anything between us?" he said, his laughter grating on my nerves like nails.

"Because we're family!" I exclaimed.

Sitting straight up in his chair, he leaned across the table menacingly toward me, sneering, "You're not my family.”

I stared at him, the hurt and betrayal burning in my chest. "You knew all along, didn’t you?"

“That you’re my stepsister? Yes,” he admitted.

His careless dismissal of the fact threw me for a loop. “Then why play with my emotions the way you did?”

"Simple. I believe you have information I want. And...why not?” he replied.

I gaped at him, disbelieving he could be so callous. "Why Not?! Seriously? What kind of information?" I demanded, my voice now shaking with anger.

"The kind of information your dead lover might have let slip about a certain something he took," he sneered.

"I don't know anything about anything he took, and it's beginning to smell mighty fucking fishy that you were just using me," I shot back, my anger and suspicion that Lucien had just been playing me, becoming more clear with every syllable that spilled from my mouth.

His smirk faltered for just a second before he stated, "You don't know what you're talking about." His voice was low and menacing.

"Oh, is that right?" I spat.

The bar around us had gone quiet, everyone watching the drama between Lucien and myself.

"Ah...my dearest, Marlowe," Lucien continued, his tone mocking. "You're so fucking gullible. You've been a pawn in a game you didn't even know was happening."

"Maybe," I said, standing up. "But I'm a player in it now."

Lucien nonchalantly leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold and assessing. "Hardly. When I’m done with you, you’re going to regret ever knowing me," he sneered.

"I already do," I said, then turning, I walked away from the table.

~~

I didn't know how much longer I could stand being in the bar with Lucien. I'd returned to my station behind the bar, busying myself with pouring drinks, but my mind wouldn't stop rehashing everything.

Tannin and Jess remained respectively quiet about the scene they had just witnessed, only asking a general, "You okay?"

I kept my cool, and just nodded, but every time I looked up, Lucien was staring at me, a silent challenge in his gaze. When he finally left, I was more than thrilled.

The next few days were a tense dance, and I pretended everything was normal, serving drinks and smiling at customers. As I was clearing a table, I noticed a whiskey glass with a crumpled napkin beneath it. The napkin was stained with whiskey and had a message scrawled in hasty handwriting. It was a simple note, but the handwriting was similar to Rook's. It read: "Meet me at the warehouse."

After my shift, I climbed into my old Volkswagen and headed to the warehouse.

As I pulled up, I noticed two figures lurking in the shadows. Before I could get back in the car, one of them yanked open the door and grabbed me roughly, covering my mouth. They were big, burly men, the kind that didn't ask questions.

"Let go of me," I struggled, but my assailant didn't budge. Instead, he quickly bound my hands and tossed me into the back seat of another vehicle, I felt a tiny sting on my leg, then everything went dark.

When I came to in an unfamiliar room, Lucien was standing beside me, a smug smile plastered on his face.

My heart raced as I tried to understand what was happening. "What do you want?" I demanded, my voice shaking with fear.

"Oh, you know what I want," he sneered. "I want everything. And I'm going to start with you."

"I'm not going to let you do this," I said, trying to sound strong despite the tremble in my voice.

"Oh, but you will," he said, his smile turning into a leer. "You're going to tell me everything I need to know about Torin. And if you don't," he stepped closer, his hand trailing down my cheek, "you'll regret it."

The touch of his hand was like a snake slithering across my skin. "What the hell am I supposed to tell you? He's dead," I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot on my face. "Well, for starters, you can tell me where the hell the money is he stole from my family," he whispered, his hand moving to my neck and squeezing.

"I don't know," I choked out, though I had my suspicions.

His grip tightened, and I felt the panic rising in my chest. "I don't believe you," he hissed.