Chapter 15: Hidden Heir: Chapter 15

Ant.

His presence is an irritation and he’s only granted respect because he’s Brooke’s brother. He certainly hasn’t earned it himself, given how he’s been treating the people who are caring for him. And he’s managed to get on Selina’s bad side, which is a feat in itself given how she’s the most unphased person I know.

“You can’t be serious,” Brooke hisses. “You’ve been doing so well. Isn’t this the chance you’ve been waiting for? A space to get clean with people watching over you? How many times have we talked about this?”

I get the impression that Ant has promised sobriety often, given the hopeful look in Brooke’s eyes despite her defeated tone. In spite of his attitude, she clearly wants the best for him and I don’t blame her. It appears she’ll do everything and anything for her family.

Just like me and my father.

“I know but this is killing me, Brooke. I can’t do it, okay? It’s too stressful. This place is too stressful. If I could get one more hit, just one to take the edge off, then I can start clean and clear.” He sniffles as he talks, continuously curling and uncurling his fingers. “You don’t understand what it’s like!”

Brooke bristles immediately and that pisses me off. I just spent twenty minutes getting her relaxed and loose with the intent of fucking her senseless, and in an instant, her brother has her tense as a board once more.

“No, I don’t understand, but look at yourself, Ant. You’ve already come so far in the short time we’ve been here!”

“No!” Ant slams his fists down on the counter. In a flash, I grasp Brooke’s arm and position her behind me, forcing Ant to look at me with those sunken eyes.

“Fine,” I say. “You want drugs? I can get you drugs.”

“No!” Brooke yells. “What the fuck, Leon?”

The greediness in Ant’s eyes is unmistakable.

“But” I continue. “This will be a one-time deal. Going cold turkey is incredibly tough and I’m aware it can also be dangerous. But you have been doing well, from my understanding. So, you have to make the choice.”

I don’t care either way. Ant’s value to me only exists because he is important to Brooke. Offering him the drugs is my way of trying to show her that he will always choose his next fix over her.

“Please, Ant.” Brooke pushes past me and rounds the counter to him. “You’re doing so well. You don’t need to do this.”

“I want the drugs,” Ant says flatly, ignoring Brooke as he stares at me.

“Are you sure? I can set you up on a program that will slowly wean you off the drugs, but eventually, you will find yourself back in this spot.”

“Please, Ant,” Brooke begs. “Don’t do this. You don’t need to.”

“This is killing me, Brooke, don’t you get it?” Ant snaps, finally acknowledging his sister at his elbow. “You have no idea what it feels like to have your insides clawing you apart all the time. To feel your intestines trying to strangle you from the inside, an itch that’s too deep you can’t reach it. I can’t think of anything else. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. This is torture. You want to keep torturing me?”

“I… no, of course not,” Brooke says as she deflates before my eyes. “I just want you to get better.”

“This will help me get better. You heard him. A plan or whatever.”

The details of the plan will mean nothing in the long run, but I will prepare it regardless to show Brooke that I will take care of anyone she considers family. Even if this roach doesn’t deserve it.

“Fine,” Brooke murmurs. “Maybe going cold turkey was too much to ask for. A plan is safer, right?” She looks at me with wide, hopeful eyes and I nod.

“Like weaning a child, little by little.”

“I’m not a fucking child,” Ant snaps.

It takes all my restraint not to say anything. “Head back to your room, Ant. I’ll bring you what you need.”

“You don’t have it here?” His greedy eyes scan around the kitchen as Brooke takes his arm and turns him away.

“Of course he doesn’t,” she says. “Go upstairs. Please.”

Ant finally agrees after Brooke repeats the same thing three times. After he leaves, Brooke fixes me with a cold stare. “This is your idea of helping?”

“What would you prefer? That we deny him what he craves until he finds some other desperate way to get it? Something tells me you’re familiar with that.”

Brooke looks down at the floor. “You’re right. I just… fuck! I wish he would just stick with it. He’s so close.”

“Has he ever been clean before?” I turn off the stove completely, abandoning the meal and leading the way out of the kitchen.

“A few times,” Brooke replies. “The longest was maybe four months. So I know he can do it. But he always relapses, and I don’t know how to stop him from doing that.”

“Is that really your responsibility?”

“Yes,” she says. “He has no one else.”

The way she says it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from a place of love but that it’s merely an obligation forged from birth and their co-dependent relationship. I can’t imagine there’s much else keeping them together.

“How long?”

“Has he been an addict?” Her nose crinkles. “Steadily six years, give or take. Though I’m pretty sure it’s been longer. In the beginning, when I was still a kid, I sort of understood what was going on. Life was hard. Our parents didn’t care about us and when they died all we had was each other. Life got even harder and he found an escape in drugs.”

“And what about you?” We reach my first-floor office and I lead the way inside, gathering what Ant requires from a locked cabinet.

“Me?”

“Yes. What was your escape?”

“I have my—had my flower shop. That was my escape. That and Tiffany. She’s pretty much the best reason not to fuck up. Why exactly do you have drugs lying around?”

I snort softly as I lead the way out of the office and toward the stairs. “A few of the guards came from difficult backgrounds. When they came to me with an issue, I took care of it. That was the deal—complete the treatment and they gain employment.”

“Wow,” Brooke says. “I didn’t expect that kind of answer.”

My explanation is only half true. In reality, a run in with the Irish some years ago ended with a few of my guards falling into addiction, so I did everything I could to get them back on track. Keeping product on hand means I’m ready for any repeat incidents.

“What kind of answer did you expect?”

“Honestly?” She glances at me as we climb the stairs. “I expected you to be like, ‘Surprise, I’m an addict too.’”

“I would never lie to you about that, Brooke.”

Her gaze falls away after a gentle, appreciative smile. When we reach Ant’s room, he’s pacing about like a caged animal. No sooner have we stepped into the room and he’s on me.

“Did you bring them?”

“Jesus, Ant,” Brooke mutters. “Have you got any manners?”

“He’s sick,” I say in his defense. “I suppose he has no idea what the hell he’s doing.”

“Don’t fucking talk about me like I’m not here,” he snaps. “Because if you fucking lied to me, then so help me, I will climb over those walls and go elsewhere.”

“You can’t!” Brooke says a little too loudly, an unexpected note of panic in her voice. “Ant, you know how dangerous it is out there.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t care,” he barks back at her. “Better than being in here!”

I toss the baggie to him with a curl of disgust rising in my gut. “Here.” It could be dangerous for him outside these walls, given Brooke’s tale about why she came here, but her panic seems strange. Is she scared that Ant will leave and overdose, or is there something else driving her concern?

Ant snatches up the baggie like a starved man then scurries over to the couch, his eyes wide and excited like a child at Christmas. His focus clearly is on his addiction and nothing else. The man has the willpower of a wet paper bag.

“I’m going to bed,” Brooke says quietly. “I’m tired and I don’t want to watch this.”

“You don’t want dinner?”

She looks up at me as she passes and shakes her head. “Not hungry.”

Great.

I don’t blame her but my dislike of Ant continues to grow by the second. I follow Brooke and quietly close the door behind her once I’m certain she’s walked away.

I’m not the nicest man in the world though I take pride in caring for my guards and assassins, and working hard to make my father proud. I like to think of myself as firm and fair, but I do have a decent amount of blood on my hands helping keep this empire afloat. So I’m hardly in the best position to judge the actions of another.

Except when it comes to Ant. He’s not callous and cold out of responsibility. He’s not protecting anyone he cares about and he’s certainly not trying to make anyone proud.

He’s clearly nothing more than a selfish, weak coward.

He’s been given chance after chance to clean up his act, but he always falls back into his old ways it seems. Normally, I would be more sympathetic to his plight given the disease he suffers from but seeing how he talks to Brooke makes my blood turn to ice.

“This is your only chance, Ant. Do you understand me?” I state firmly, turning to see he’s sniffing up a storm on the couch.

He doesn’t acknowledge me. He’s too invested in getting every single particle out of that baggie, so lost in his desire that he didn’t even ask me what drug I gave him.

I approach him slowly. “Hey!” I bark, causing him to jump. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

Ant finally looks up with the baggie dangling loosely from his fingers. “Yes, boss,” he mocks.

“I’m a fair man, Ant. But I’m not known for being patient, so let me speak as plainly as I can so a dim-witted cockroach like yourself can keep up.” I’m on him in a flash, my hand around his narrow throat squeezing until his eyes bulge. “The only reason you are alive is because you are important to Brooke, though for the life of me, I can’t fathom why she hasn’t kicked your sorry ass to the curb yet. Loyalty is a trait to be admired yet all you care about is the height of your next fix, which will never be enough, will it?”

Ant chokes but he doesn’t fight me. I watch in real time as the drugs hit him like a truck.

“This is your one and only chance. You will get clean. You will get your life together. And you will spend the rest of your days making up for inflicting your sorry existence on your sister, do you understand me?”

Ant rolls his eyes and coughs as I relax my hand.

“Whatever, man,” he mutters.

“Wrong answer,” I snarl. “One chance, Ant. You don’t seem to understand the gravity of what I’m offering you—one chance. I will get you back on your feet, even if you’re kicking and screaming, but if you ever put Brooke in danger, ever hurt her or cause her even a second of upset, I will make sure you disappear under a sea of needles. Are we clear?”

“Sure. Clear. Whatever. I’m not scared of you,” Ant replies, his speech beginning to slur. “You criminals are all the same and you’re just as bad as the others so what the fuck ever man.”

A pulse of confusion derails my anger for a moment. “The others? What others?”

Ant’s eyes roll back in his head and he slumps, completely lost to the high of his addiction.

What others is he talking about?