Free The Fortunates (Unfortunates #2) by Skyla Madi Page B

perfectly clean dress. It took him a long time to realise Elizabeth was toxic. She was toxic to his life, to his soul, and to his humanity.
    “You left me with no choice,” he told her. “I can’t trust you.”
    Elizabeth nodded her head with a hard swallow. With erratic fingers, she toyed with the end of a pale blonde lock of hair that draped down her chest.
    “We were friends once. Lovers too…” she muttered.
    “We were never lov—”
    “We had sex,” she snapped, pinning him with a nasty glare. “Frequently. I’d say that qualifies.”
    Maybe it did qualify. Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that it was a thing of the past, where it would remain.
    “I asked you to leave.”
    Elizabeth turned toward the door and stomped her feet. “Suit yourself. Your brother has always been the easier one to talk to anyway.”
    Kade opened his mouth, but Elizabeth slammed the door behind her, causing the assorted bronze framed pictures to tremble against the wall. Kade exhaled.
    Alone at last.
    Free to drink himself into a dreamless slumber. No politics. No relationships. Nothing to remind him of the tribulations he faced when the sun was up.
    Peace.
    Besides the whiskey, that was all he could stomach.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     

     
    Nine
     
    They closed the door, leaving me alone in the monstrous room—a room they referred to as mine .
    This can’t be mine.
    I don’t want it to be mine.
    I shiver and Kade’s shirt hums against my skin. I cling to it, hugging myself until the shirt tightens around my back. It’s the only familiar thing I have here.
    I move cautiously over the cool tiles. The room isn’t like Kaden’s at all. His was regal, adorned with deep reds, gold trimmings, and varnished mahogany woods, but this room is white with occasional splashes of black. Bright, white lights reflect off most surfaces and I see only metal, no wood. It’s nothing like Kade’s room, nothing like the style I’ve grown accustomed to.
    I don’t know why I expected this room to be exactly like his…
    I glance over the white leather couches and fluffy black cushions. Is that for me too? I look at the tall black bookcases filled with thick books. Are those? Everything is pristine and elegant. What if I break something? Will I be punished? Would I have to pay for it? If so, how do I get money? The ball of anxiety in my chest expands and presses against my ribs. I’m not cut out for this. I wasn’t born for this life. I stagger backwards until my back slams into the door. Tears well in my eyes. It’s too much. I can’t stay here.
    I whirl on my heel and rip the door open. For the briefest moment, I hesitate. I shouldn’t be walking through the house at such a late hour…but then again, who will stop me? I’m a Fortunate now, right?
    I zip from the room with a stumble and run down the hall. At the end, my ankle threatens to give away as I stop abruptly and turn left toward the spiralling staircase. I grip the rail in my hand, clenching tightly as I descend the marble steps. They’re cold and soothing on the bottom of my sore feet and make a slight slapping noise every time my feet connect. My heart sinks and I stifle a yelp as I miss the last step and body slams into the hard foyer tiles with a loud slap. Wind is knocked from my lungs and they burn as I roll onto my back, gasping for air. My fall ignites the pain in the rest of my body, bringing back the ache of my bones and the thump in my head. Sadly, it calms me. Pain is familiar. Pain is routine.
    Groaning, I turn my body and push myself onto my hands and knees and sit back on my ankles. I inhale and glance around. The lights in the house are dim, allowing all of its dwellers to sleep without disturbance. How much noise am I making? What if someone comes out of their room?
    Groaning, I force myself to my feet, clenching my ribs. I jog to the large, white doors and stop. My stare follows the frightening and exquisitely