Chapter 3

Seven Years Ago

“Why couldn’t he just get another girl?” Maisie complained for the umpteenth time.

For the last six months, it was the same question ever since they heard their father’s new girlfriend had a son around their age. This was the day Toby himself dreaded. As he and his twin sister sat on the steps of their home manor watching their dad speak on the phone, his mind whirled with anger, anticipation, and confusion.

“He did,” Toby deadpanned. “You’ll have a new mom to play dollies with.”

Maisie’s face scrunched up in distaste. “But she’s like… old.”

“Still a girl,” he shrugged.

One that was only after his dad’s money, he was sure. At eleven years old, he understood more than most kids his age. More than he should. Being a part of an elite system had you grow older in mentality. At least, Maisie didn’t have to go through anything he had to. Lucky for her, she was born a female.

“If he’s anything like your weirdo friend Garrett, then I’m leaving the house.”

Toby just rolled his eyes.

Finally, a blue SUV, followed by several U-Haul trucks, rolled down the driveway, stopping in front of the front yard fountain. Emerson turned and waved them over. “Come on, you two. Let’s get you acquainted with your new mother and brother.”

Toby internally cringed at the terms. He never knew his birth mother, having died several months after the twins came into the world, but he did know the other host of women his father would bring back. And the boy had beaten it into his own head that these women did not get with Emerson Irons to play “house.”

“Did you talk to him at the wedding?” Maisie asked as they stood and trudged over.

“Hell, no. I don’t think he talked to anyone else either. Just stood around in places like some creep.”

She groaned. “So, he’s boring, too, huh?”

“It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t gonna be all nice to him anyway.”

That wasn’t entirely true. Honestly, Toby preferred to ignore those he didn’t like, but if the kid in there thought they were going to be the best of friends, he was going to enjoy tearing that idea apart piece by piece.

Movers hopped out of their trucks and made quick work of taking out boxes and lifting furniture. It seemed that his dad had already handed over a credit card for his new wife to spend on. And it was only a day after the wedding. Said newlywed was currently taking her time climbing out the car. Marjorie Watson was the type his father went for. Blonde, blue eyes, and an affinity for flowered sundresses. Toby’s eyes only remained on her for a few more seconds before laying on the other occupant slowly jumping out of the vehicle.

The new brother.

“There’s my lovely lady,” Emerson was all smiles as he bounded toward his significant other.

Marjorie beamed back at him. “And there’s my handsome stallion.”

They embraced and kissed, snickering as they stared adoringly into each other’s eyes.

“Gross,” Maisie murmured.

“Are the boys treating your luggage right?” Emerson asked.

“Oh, they are just the best! They’re very efficient at what they do. And so polite, too.”

“Woman, have you been talking to other men behind my back?” he pretended to appear offended, which made Marjorie giggle.

“Men? Only one, darling. You said ‘boys.’”

Toby had to tune them out unless he wanted to puke. Instead, he studied the boy several feet across from him. He would have never guessed the kid belonged to Marjorie. Dark red hair, blue-green eyes, and freckles – none of which the mother possessed. He was quite small and scrawny for an eleven-year-old, or maybe Toby was bigger than he should be. Being on the football and baseball team in school would do that to a growing boy.

When his stepbrother noticed Toby gazing at him, he grimaced before eyeing his shoes in discomfort, his face flushing the slightest bit. It almost made Toby grin.

“This is my little baby boy, Beau,” Marjorie leaned down and squeezed her son’s tiny shoulders affectionately. Say hello to your new siblings, Beau.”

Beau hesitated for a couple of seconds before lifting a shaking hand. “H-Hi.”

Again, Toby found it… cute how bashful he was.

Crap. Squash that thought.

“Introduce yourselves, now,” his father pressed expectantly.

“Toby,” he nodded.

Maisie gave a light smile and briefly returned the wave. “I’m Maisie.”

That only made Beau’s face redden even more. He couldn’t even keep his head up for a little more than three seconds. “Hi, guys.”

Emerson went over and kneeled in front of his stepson, ruffling his hair. “A little shy, are we? No need to worry, my boy. These two chatterboxes will most definitely make up for that. Though, I could use nice and quiet.”

While Marjorie laughed, Toby kept silent, glaring holes into the back of his father’s head. Question after question starting a fire after revolving endlessly in his brain. Why was this happening so suddenly? Was this a test? Was it a part of the game?

Or was his father genuine this time?

It wasn’t impossible for his dad to find a woman to love, but after having one after another show up and leave in a matter of a couple of months, the prospect of him settling down for good was practically non-existent.

But if this was real, then…

After everything he had and will go through, his father was replacing him.

…

Present

A few hours into the night, Toby sauntered into the Irons manor living room with three other boys at his heel. Maisie was sitting on the couch and watching some cartoon while conversing with Garrett, who bounced around behind her.

“Okay,” Maisie’s eyes narrowed. “I know I’m weird, but I’m not as crazy as you. When you say fingernail kink, do you mean ‘scrape my fingers across your back’ or…”

Toby froze. Of course, I walked into this.

“No, no,” Garrett shook his head, his grin widening. “I meant the actual fingernail. Like you clip them and you mess around with that.”

“That… has never existed in the history of ever.”

“What? Of course, it does!” he looked up to address his friend, ignoring the trio following him. “It does, right, Tobs?”

Toby was already shaking his head, refusing to add to the strange discussion. “I’m just going to pretend like I didn’t walk in on the freakiest conversation ever and ask you two to move on to the bedroom.”

That made everyone pause. Maisie gaped at him as if waiting for him to take it back, but Toby meant what he said. These two have been dancing around each other since they were in first grade. The male twin could no longer find it in himself to be bothered by their encounters.

“Was… was that joke or…?” his sister looked for clarification.

Garrett shrugged while chuckling. “I mean, hey. I wouldn’t mind. Maybe we do a little hands-on learning while we’re there.”

“Joking around and you’re allowing this kind of talk? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

It was these times he knew his friend and his twin were made for one another. They were almost the same person.

“Out, you two,” Toby dismissed them. “I won’t be long.”

“Please, take your time,” Garrett smirked, then lifted Maisie in his arms bridal style. “Let’s go, Maisie-Daisy!”

“Not in front of the big boys.” She whacked his chest, flushing pink, but was having a hard time fighting off a smile.

“Your inches away from one, anyway.”

They were off, joking and giggling as the blond ran up the stairs. Hopefully, to Maisie’s bedroom because there was no doubt in Toby’s mind that they were either drunk, high, or both right just now.

The three boys went to take Maisie’s place on the couch while Toby situated himself on a recliner just beside it. He was not the only heir in town, nor would he really consider himself the golden boy of Sheffield. He shared that spot with three others.

Closest to him sat Arthur Leadquist, a tall, lighter brunette and the star of the soccer team, currently twirling a joint in between his fingers. In the middle, sitting stock still, was the brawns of the team, Maddox McCopper, a giant, brooding African American who wasn’t big on talking much. And at the end, texting on his phone, was Rhys Gold, who was pretty much the epitome of his last name – gold hair, eyes, and shining, flawless skin. Though, Toby knew what lied underneath. What went on in that mind of his. If there was anybody more ruthless than him, it was Rhys.

It was one of the reasons why they were closer than the others.

“You okay with that?” Arthur gestured to the stairs. “He might be your best friend, but I would’ve decked him if he came on to my sister like that.”

“Toby instigated it,” Rhys spoke up before said boy could answer. He looked up from his phone and winked at Toby. “He knows what he was saying.”

The Irons heir rolled his eyes. “Thank you, mouthpiece. Moving on, we need to talk about this year’s Legacy Trials.”

“What?” Maddox’s deep baritone filled up the room. “It’s the same as always, yeah?”

“It would have been if not for the overwhelming list of sign-ups. People are that eager to join rank.”

Toby took out his phone, opened up a file on a notepad app, and started scrolled down, down, and down. The list of names never seemed to come to a finish. It was only after five full-screen slides of his thumb when he reached the bottom.

Arthur snickered as he took a hit, smoke funneling out through his nose. “I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s a hell of a lot better than being a hang-around or a Toy. All those connections and secrets.”

Becoming a Legacy really was a low-risk package. With that status, one had access to pretty much anything.

Wanted to go to an Ivy League college? You got instant admission.

Wanted to open up a chain restaurant across the globe? Mark the spots on a map.

Wanted to coast through life with the fortune of a multi-millionaire? Just sign the check.

All they ask was to remain completely and utterly loyal to the big men in charge. No matter what they ask of you.

“But it’s who we give those secrets to that matters,” Rhys said. “Toby’s correct. It might be entertaining with a lot of people, but the Trials don’t pit one contestant against the other. A lot of people just might end up getting through.”

“Which means we need to do some qualification rounds,” Maddox grumbled.

The Gold heir lit up at that, sitting up in his seat. “Actually, I have an idea for the Preamble party.”

Toby’s brows rose. “What did you have in mind?”

“Hmm…”

“Let me guess. This one’s going to be a surprise.”

Arthur blew out another smoky breath. “Oh no. A Rhys Surprise special. You know how those usually end up.”

“A mess,” Toby glared at the guy-in-question. “A chaotic mess, which typically involves blood, vomit, shit, or, when he’s feeling a little bit too gleeful, semen.”

Rhys shrugged, smirking complacently at the description. “My only regret is that I couldn’t weave that last one into what I have planned, but it’s going to be good. I promise.”

The Irons heir only reached over and stole the joint from Arthur’s fingers, taking a hit himself. “At this point, I don’t care who gets all the way through. I’m just so fucking ready to be done with this place.”

…

The Sheffield shopping center was nearly empty nearing midnight. Barely anyone around to hear the other scream. And if they did, they’d be too late.

Beau’s footfalls were silent as his dark gaze focused intensely on the back of his mother’s head – Marjorie Watson. It was getting harder and harder to remain quiet. One would think after not seeing their parental units since they were a child, they would be eager to reveal that they were alive and well.

But as Beau glowered at the woman who gave birth to him, he could not help but think about the slowest, agonizing death he could bring her.

His skin itched, ready to burst from the inside. His mind boiled in a sea of rage, making it more difficult to see through his red haze.

He didn’t even realize he was only a couple of feet behind her. She had stopped to check out another rack of pretty dresses, checking them out one by one.

It was his chance.

He sniffed. No one but her was around right now.

Good.

His arm slowly lifted, the sleeve of his hoodie soundlessly cascading down as he raised it over his head. Just a couple more seconds and the bitch would be dead. She spun around and Beau-

A pair of strong hands snatched his shoulders and whipped him out of sight. Beau struggled as he was hurried inside a nearby dressing room. Startled, he prepared to strike out at the person behind him but froze upon hearing the familiar voice.

“Woah, buddy!” Thallon grabbed onto Beau’s wrist to stop the attack. “Let’s not do that in public, yeah?”

The young lycan blinked, his sight darting around the enclosed space. Little by little, the red haze washed away to be replaced by realization and disappointment.

“Fuck,” he cursed himself for losing control yet again. “Fuck!”

Thallon smiled sympathetically down at the boy. “You still haven’t gotten a reign on that anger. Looks like someone needs more training.”

He leaned out the door, ensuring that they were still alone. “That your momma? Why would you wanna kill her?”

Beau shook his head. “No, I… I don’t want to kill her.” Yet. “It’s just… It’s complicated.”

“Well, I have some time to kill anyways. I’m all ears.”