Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (31 page)

“I met you and Fate later
, and it started clicking- then Whitt started growing up. My parents wanted to save me from the truth, but it was fruitless. I know everything. I saw her again when I became the Whittenhower,” Grant shudders out.

“How did you get to… to where you are?”
I gesture at him, hand waving in the air between us. I can’t call him The Whittenhower; it would make this game all too real for me.

“When I was a small boy
, my grandfather, Wilhelm, was beat to death during Christmas Mass on the strike of midnight… in front of me… by my uncle,” Grant gasps out, reliving the memory. Grant’s voice is like Novocain in my bloodstream- nothing he says to me elicits the reaction it should. Am I really this jaded now?

“
I didn’t know what it was about, but I was Great-Uncle Jack’s only nephew- the Whittenhower heir. Only way to take over is by your Elder’s death or retirement- my uncle hated how his brother, Wilhelm, was a good person. Jack wanted the game to be more ruthless. I lived twelve years under my uncle’s rule. I became the Whittenhower during his deathbed confession. My first mission was Regina,” Grant says with a shameless smirk, looking so beautiful that my breath hitches.

“Everyone thinks Daniel did that,” I hiss.

“That’s the beauty of it. If I had to do this shit, then I was going to get something I wanted out of it,” he arrogantly murmurs. Grant looks down to his elegant hands clasped in his lap, secretly smiling to himself. When he gazes at me through the fringe of his lashes, I hiss. Grant is flirting with me. Flirty- there is no other way to describe the innocent yet seductive look he gives me.

“Don’t,” I warn.  My voice doesn’t have its usual attitude, it’s weak and thready- Grant scares me and it’s intriguing.

“They thought me an impressionable idiot,” Grant spits. “My own father sees me as weak. It’s best to be underestimated,” he says with a cocky grin. “I’m unsuspecting as I do what I want… and get what I want.”

“Regina- Niel,” I whisper.

“Not a monster,” Grant says again. “Regina was given to me as a mission from my uncle at first. She was pregnant with Niel when I became the Whittenhower- when I saw your mother again.” Grant’s voice dips so deep that it physically hurts him. “I hate her,” he whispers, vibrant blue gaze pinning me. I wince, yet another person who will see Gwen when they look at me.

“And I love her,” he breathes so softly I’m not sure I heard him correctly.

“They all kowtow to Mitchell Meyers out of fear and loyalty, save Pearl and me. As I said, I’m unassuming. I can sit there and my family is never in play because they believe that they control me. I tell Pearl what moves I want to make and she plays them. They fear Pearl, but Ezra… terrified of the boy. I thought they’d piss themselves when she brought Ezra to the meeting this week. They were playing your family relentlessly because you didn’t have anyone to protect you. Pearl and I were trying to block it by having Ezra’s presence during the meeting. It’s been worse with Fate as your Elder.”

“You’re not like Fate, then?”

“No,” Grant says with a naughty smirk, “I’m nothing like Fate. The reason we are chatting is two-fold. One: I wanted to thank you for having your own mind. The Elders are excited. Many are retiring so their children and grandchildren can play against you and Ezra. It’s breathed life into the game that was slowly moving to its finish with us as the losers.”

“How did I do anything? I don’t understand?”

“We all know that you and Ezra aren’t romantically together, but there was a look on both your faces tonight that was telling- a partnership. But more importantly, Ezra obeyed you- immediately. You hold a lot of power. Pearl and I want to help you and Ezra use it wisely. You hugged my son…” Grant trails off.

“Whitt is my brother, of course I did,” my voice cracks from confusion.

“What you don’t understand is that Whitt isn’t cuddly. He lurks around, hides, sneaks, and listens. He’s quiet and withdrawn. He only lets our immediate family touch him… and Regina,” Grant barks a laugh and winks. “Sometimes the body knows naught of the mind. Whitt was drawn to you because he subconsciously knows you’re blood, so he hugged you. But it was the fierce look on your face that will ensure Whitt never has a play moved against him. I’ve allowed them to riddle my father. I’ve disinterestedly sat back while they rode him hard and went after my sister. I allow it because Daniel is a tough sonofabitch and Ade is made of steel. But my children… Whitt- I will kill the first fuck who goes after him. So you just saved me from myself. No one will touch Whitt since he’s now under your protection.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I protest.

“Doesn’t matter,” Grant mutters. “They fear Ezra, and you have the ability to control him. Ezra genuinely loves Whitt, and as Whitt’s sister, you will protect him. Whitt is the safest person in this game, and I will be eternally thankful. And in return, you have my full support. Some things we can’t mitigate, but we can try to lessen the pain,” is said barely above a whisper- a wistful smile plays on his lips.

“What aren’t you telling me?” my voice warbles in fear. Grant l
ooks at me like he wants to cry. Grant: who is always cheery, smiling and calm. Grant: who just showed me that he is analytical and strong. Grant is upset and it terrifies me.

“You understand the basics of the game, yes?”
Grant asks, scooting to the edge of his seat and placing a warm palm on my knee. “Seven families: the elder, the heir, and the enforcers. The elder creates the plays, while the heir learns and gets played, but it’s the enforcers that create the havoc- they actually make the moves. Your birth family is strong, because of this. They have systematically made the game unplayable for the most of us. A few people aren’t safe- they get played constantly. I want to assure you that your sister is doing all she can.”

“Bullshit,” I hiss, pulling away from Grant’s comforting hand- I can still feel the warmth of his touch- hotter than the fire beside us.

“Faith,” Grant growls deep in his chest. “What the hell can Fate do to protect you?” he softly asks, voice lulling me into agreement. “She came to me and begged. I’d have helped anyway. Pearl and I had been helping for over a year. Thomas was my ally,” Grant’s voice breaks.

“My daddy?”
I ask, blinking tears back.

“Yes, sweetheart, your daddy was my ally. You should know that Amelia was his enforcer. They stopped actively playing to protect you girls. Mitchell didn’t like that. The game was getting boring for him, so he maneuvered Lara into calling the FBI on your father. Tom and Amelia are in prison because it was a game play. They needed Fate as an elder
, and they underestimated the strength of a sixteen-year-old girl.”

“I hate this,” I sniffle, quickly wiping tears from my cheeks. “It’s sickening.”

“It is,” Grant agrees. His face is twisted in pain. “The later generations have lived this since birth. It does something to us. It doesn’t make us bad, just desperate. The first six elders were best friends and… disturbed. I see us turning back into them and it kills me. I don’t want this for my sons. I’m glad that Whitt is protected and that I have time to find a way to protect Niel. Now I’m actively trying to protect you, Faith. You have a huge target on your back- the biggest target I’ve ever seen. Fate
can’t
protect you- it’s impossible. Mitchell
won’t
protect you, so Gwen can’t. The other elders are attacking you to see how you will react.” Grant gives a squeeze to my knee and sits back in his chair. He looks at me for a few minutes, debating on what else to reveal.

“
It was telling, sitting in the meeting as they discussed ways to harm you. How disinterested your actual family was while others in the room were flinching. I found a safe place for you, but we can’t move you until the plays that are in motion are finalized. I wish…” Grant trails off. He abruptly yanks me over to his seat, and cradles me in his lap.

“You wish what?” my voice sounds muffled against Grant’s chest. He gently holds me, rocking back and forth. His solid chest beneath my cheek is a comfort. Lately
, when people touch me, they want something from me- Wil, Ezra, Cort, Boyd, even my sister. Whitt’s little hands on my tattoos was the most innocent touch I’ve had since I could hug my daddy and aunt. I allow Grant to hold me because he isn’t asking anything of me. I can feel his pain, and I know that I’m not going to like what he’s going to confess. But I understand he can’t change it, either.

“Stanton Green, he’s in his
late twenties. He’s a ruthless, brutal man. But he loves children.” I freeze, scared half to death. “No, Faith,” Grant soothingly says, hands rubbing my back. “Not like that. After I became my family’s Elder, I went to the other men: Henry, Thomas, and Stanton. Their children are my son’s siblings. I wanted to know them. Henry is as bad as your grandfather- Henry… he knew what he was doing with Gwen- when he...” Grant audibly swallows. We shake, him and I, from the fury of what my grandfather and his friends did to my mother.

“
But Thomas, Stanton, and I found a common ground, being that Gwen played us. Stanton doesn’t want in the game, it makes him sick. He only plays to block the moves that he finds disgusting. After your father’s trial, Stanton wants you to move in with him. No one will know, save Pearl and myself. We can’t protect you if they can find you.”

“Why? Why would Stanton
want me there? Does he… I can’t be like my mother,” I fiercely whisper.

“No, sweetheart,” Grant rumbles in my ear, hugging me tightly. “Not like that- never like that. He’s your little sister’s daddy- an amazing father. He wants you girls to know each other. He wants you to be a young woman, not someone’s tool.
Your sister has no mother. Stanton has no females in his life. He’s raising your sister and his brother and it would be nice to have you with them- a family. It would be a perfect fit. Wouldn’t you like to know Bianca?”

My breath seizes in my lungs, tears sting my eyes. “Bianca, my sister’s name is Bianca?” I’ve never heard her name. I grasp at any knowledge of the girl I should be protecting.

“She’s almost eight- tiny little thing with huge brown eyes. Bianca is chatty and friendly,” Grant animatedly says, a chuckle rumbling in his chest against my cheek. “Last year, I took Whitt to see her. The children didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. I just wanted them to meet, just the once. They didn’t get along,” Grant warmly chuckles, a pleasant sound that makes me grin. “Your brother is a jealous little shit when he wants to be. I thought it best if they didn’t meet until adulthood after his behavior.”

“Why can’t I go now?” I try to sound forceful, but I end up whining.

Grant huffs a laugh and tightens his arms around me. “Rules- it’s always those fucking rules,” his usual voice is soothing, now as he talks, it’s sharp and cutting. “I hate this, Faith. You have to do something tonight for your own protection. Pearl was physically sick this evening. A move is on the game board, sought out by The Meyers, The Spencer, The Simpson, and The Fontaine. Majority rules. Pearl, Stanton, and I voted nay. But it doesn’t matter- if your sister would have voted with us, but she didn’t,” Grant’s growl trills down my spine and spreads terror down my body.

“Ezra, he is a disturbed young man. I love the dear boy, but he’s had a hard time of it. I need you to protect him and yourself at the same time. He’s told you about Diane and his conception,” Grant doesn’t ask, somehow he knows that Ezra and I have shared all of our secrets in the past
few weeks. “You know that on Ezra’s eighteenth birthday he becomes the Holden. You know what end the Elders are trying to maneuver towards. Do you understand what they will do to you and Ezra if they don’t get it?”

“I’m not having a kid just because my grandfather tells me to,” I snarl. “I’d get a damn hysterectomy if I
could,” I warn. “I’m not my mother,” my voice breaks as Wil’s face comes to the fore of my mind- the pure terror of Wil’s expression when he realized he touched me, tasted me, smelled my scent… had sex with me.

“No, no, you are not Gwen,” Grant declares with a firm shake to my shoulders. “I can hear the pain in your voice. I’ve watched you irreversibly change over the past six months. Who said you were like Gwen?”

“No one,” I numbly mumble, “everyone.”

“It’s
utter bullshit. You’ve never met her, have you?”

“
No, my mother doesn’t want to know me,” I weakly say, sounding like the child I’ve never been. Grant makes me feels so comfortable that I allow myself to drop the impenetrable wall that surrounds me.

“Good. I wish she didn’t know me either
.” Grant’s voice is bitterness twisted with another emotion I have to ignore- longing. “Faith, you are nothing like your mother.”

“I look like her,” I
hesitantly reply.

“Not true- not true at all. Yes, you look similar, but anyone who knows you would see the differences. You are your own person, Faith. You
r eyes are bigger- the intelligence and strength glowing from them isn’t like the wounded innocence of Gwen’s. You’re snarky and vivacious, a little bit unsure but ready to take on the world. Your mother is just broken. Your face is rounder, cheeks pinker. Your mouth is a perfect cupid bow to her perpetual frown. Your body… sorry if I sound like a pervert,” Grant says with a snicker. “But after knowing someone intimately, you will see the differences. Your breasts are larger, behind rounder, muscles firmer. Gwen is curvy and seductive. When I look at her, all I see is red. But when I look at you, I see barely contained violence and vitality- a fierce need to protect the ones you call your own. Who said you were like Gwen?” Grant growls.