“Sinclair and Sinclair Group is worth more than any of that other shit combined.”
I bared my teeth. Pika and the rest of the birds took wing at the rage flowing off me. “Only because I made it so. It wasn’t worth nearly as much when they had it.”
“They?” Drake sneered. “You mean our parents, Sully? The very same parents you fucking murdered?”
I went ice. Fucking. Cold.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard you accuse me of murder.”
He laughed icily. “Cold-blooded murder actually.”
My heart hurtled itself into a sick gallop toward a cliff. I did my best to rein in the hate between us—to stay calm, collected, and to handle this unfortunate situation—but Drake lowered his voice to a guttural whisper, “I’ve known all along, you little cocksucker. I knew when I showed you what our mother did to those stupid animals you rescued that you’d snap eventually.”
A nasty coating of sweat broke out over my back. “I don’t know what the—”
“Yes, you do. Do you honestly think I’m that fucking stupid?”
I cricked my neck, still trying to divert this disgusting chat to more domestic topics. “I never thought you were stupid, Drake…just a fucking ignoramus with the instincts of a dung beetle. Actually, wait. I take that back. To liken you to any animal is an insult to the animal. You’re just…human.” I said the last word with every disgust and hostility imaginable.
Drake just laughed. “I’m not the killer in the family, Sully. You are.”
“I think you forgot to take your meds. You’re delusional.” My nostrils flared as my phone glued itself to my ear. I pressed it into my skull until a headache formed, trying to stop his accusations from spilling free and infecting these pristine shores I’d found sanctuary in.
I’d run from society because I couldn’t stomach the level of detestation and malevolence that swamped me when talking to people I couldn’t stand. People I didn’t respect or like.
I had no control over the way my body primed for a fight. A sick and dirty fight where I forgot the part of me that was still human and became a filthy, ferocious animal instead.
I would tear his motherfucking throat out if we ever came face to face again.
“I’m not the one who needs drugging, asshole.” He paused before adding, “This stroll down memory lane is good and all, but I’m sure you’re aware I have a reason for calling you.”
“Extortion by the sounds of it.”
“Call it what you want. You owe me and I owe you for my broken hand and ribs.”
“What do you want?” I chuckled frostily. “A get well card? A ‘get the fuck out of my business’ Hallmark greeting?”
“I want your shares in the company. I want the billions of dollars that you’re sitting on and wasting on those pet projects of yours.”
I looked at the ceiling, trying to regulate my breathing. “You want to talk about pet projects? Fine, let’s talk about pets, shall we, Drake? The pets you killed?”
Pongo still rankled me. Still hurt. Watching something being murdered before your very eyes changed your psyche. It carved away the pieces that cringed at gore and mutilation. It hacked away at the fundamental commandments a kid is born with: thou shalt not kill. Thou shall not carry out revenge.
I’d done both those things.
And I’d do it all over again.
Gladly.
“Still hung up about that stupid mutt? Well, I’m hung up on the fact that you flew after our parents when they hired that yacht, that you stowed on-board with whatever sicko plan you had, that you made them sink, that you were the only survivor, that you so quickly accepted the position of power at Sinclair and Sinclair. Their bodies weren’t even cold when you smashed apart the labs and thought you were some sort of liberator, releasing animals that already had their life’s purpose.” His voice rose, becoming sloppy with loathing. “You chose them over our goddamn parents. You killed them, you cocksucker, and you didn’t even pretend to care.”
The cloak of black oil dripped off me, smearing on the floor, vanishing into the cracks of my basalt tiles. With each rivulet that fell, I grabbed hold of restraint.
I didn’t know how Drake had pieced together such a tale. I had no idea what he planned to do with such a flimsy hypothesis, but this call could be recorded, and I would not allow him to entrap me.
“They died in a freak accident. The police reports still don’t know what caused them to sink. I understand you want justice for their passing, but blame Mother Nature or the malicious moods of fate. They died but not because of me, Drake.”
“Bullshit.”
I sighed heavily, making sure the puff of frustration found its way down the phone line. “I’m very busy and don’t have time for this shit. Stay away from my company. Step foot in my building again and you won’t have a visit from a lapdog anymore, you’ll have one from me.”