Wrath of an Exile: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (The River Styx Heathens Book 1)

Phi

July 25

“Dude, I can’t fucking go to jail again!”

Atlas Caldwell’s words fall on deaf ears. The furthest thing from my mind is being arrested.

Although it’s not the handcuffs he’s afraid of. It’s sitting in a holding cell, waiting to be bailed out by our fathers, who will equally be pissed, which, truthfully, I think is more of a them problem than an us issue.

They’ve gotta be used to it by now.

Trouble is practically our birthright.

A rebellious privilege passed down from the previous generation. Mayhem lives in our blood. It’s the core of us.

“Shut up and run!” I scream, the sound scratching my throat.

My thumb rapidly presses on the key fob, unlocking the car far more times than is needed. The flashing headlights and loud chirping from the yellow Camaro mimic the state of my panic.

With every step closer, I’m closing the gap between me and impending doom, so focused on not breaking my ankle while sprinting in platform Docs that I can pretend there aren’t five juiced-up football players hot on my tail.

“Phi, I swear to God, if you touch my fucking car!” Tex screams bloody murder from behind me, sounding more teenage girl than college sophomore.

Oh, I’m gonna do more than just touch your car, jackass.

The party I’m fleeing from like a bat out of hell is still raging on without its host, who is busy trying to chase me down. Music blares into the quiet street, echoing around the identical houses. I’m sure the people on this street are used to Tex Matthews’s weekend ragers and have compensated by investing in noise-canceling headphones.

The summer night air is a balm against my clammy skin, thudding toward the stationary American muscle vehicle that is completely unaware of the chaos coming its way.

“Son of a bitch!” I hiss as I jerk the door open, knocking my shin as I fumble my way into the driver’s seat. I’ll deal with the bruise in the morning.

“Phi, next time, how about you fuck the captain of the chess club,” Andy wheezes as she slams the passenger door. “Or, I don’t know, literally anyone that isn’t the best running back in the state of Oregon.”

“I didn’t exactly predict stealing his car while he was going down on me,” I argue, my hands shaking as I shove the key into the ignition.

Even though I despise the make of this car, the whine of the engine makes my stomach tingle, that powerful hum vibrating through my bones.

The door is practically ripped off the vehicle just before Atlas launches all six foot two of himself into the back seat, causing the vehicle to shake with the force.

“Go, go, go, go…” he babbles, feet still dangling out the door as I slam the gearshift into drive.

My cherry-colored hair whips out the window when I roll it down, a grin spreading across my lips, watching my ex…ex-boyfriend? No, that’s giving him far too much credit. He was basically a three-night stand that quickly turned into a mistake.

No sex in the world is worth putting up with that massive ego and inability to take a fucking hint. If I wanted to screw the lacrosse captain, then that’s what I’d do.

He knew the score. It’s not like Ponderosa Springs is unaware of my reputation. I don’t do relationships. I didn’t earn the nickname “vixen” for being sweet.

You see, I’ve got this thing. This appetite for boys’ hearts. It’s impossible to survive my brand of chaos.

I like bad decisions. Fast cars. And sex.

Anything that makes me numb.

Tex barrels down the hill, goon friends hot on his heels.

“Phi!” he shouts, dark hair blending into the night sky. “Don’t you dare⁠—”

Guys are so dumb. Because you know what that shit makes me want to do?

Dare.

“Suck my fucking dick, asshole,” I shout joyfully, peeling away from the curb, my hand stuck out the window and middle finger flying high. All the while, Atlas is flopping around in the back seat, trying to shut the back door before he falls out.

The squeal of tires blocks out any more of Tex’s empty threats as I open the throttle, all the air sucked into the engine as I press the pedal into the floorboard. That dick can threaten me all he’d like. We both know he can’t touch me.

Sure, my dad is going to chew my ass out, but there are several perks to having the town judge as a father. No one would dare report Ponderosa Springs’s Queen of Disaster to the police.

No, because they are all afraid of Rook Van Doren.

Which just proves how fucking stupid they all are. All it would take is just one to grow the balls to turn me in, and they’d find out that the Judge wouldn’t let me off the hook. I’d get the book thrown at me.

My dad is a lot of things, but a crooked man isn’t one of them.

Despite the build of this car, there is no better feeling than this. And I don’t mean grand theft, although that feels pretty damn good too. It’s the shot of adrenaline that comes from an engine, that thrill coursing through my veins, knowing I’m in control of all that power and pressure beneath the hood.

No one would ever understand how much I love this because they weren’t raised like me. The words “go fast” were fostered in me the way rain nourishes roots.

“Andy, do I still smell like pot?” Atlas drawls, poking his head through the space between the driver and passenger seat, reeking of weed.

My sister lazily flops her head to the side, burying her nose in his shaggy, ink-colored hair. “You got two options, dude. You crash at our place and steal some of Reign’s clothes, or you crawl into Ezra’s window and hope the ’rents don’t catch you.”

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I told them no more dumb shit.” He runs two frustrated hands through his hair. “When my father buries me beneath the floorboards tonight, please, God, clear my browser history. My mom will go blind if she finds that shit.”

An unattractive noise leaves my mouth, a combination of a snort and a laugh. I’ve known Atlas my whole life. Literally. His family has lived next door to mine since I was a baby. I’m almost positive there isn’t a single birthday photo of mine he’s not in.

Still, I will never understand how, out of all us children, he’s the one everyone calls Saint. I’ll argue till my dying breath that the title needs to be given to the darling Nora Hawthorne, but no one fucking listens to me.

“Your furry kink is in trusted hands.” Andy smiles. “Scout’s honor.”

“Fuck that,” he argues, shaking his head. From the corner of my eye, I see him poking her with his pointer finger. “On the Styx.”

That salty coastal air whips across my face, the smell of the ocean filling my senses as I glimpse over at them. Their pointer fingers loop around one another, locking into a promise more sacred than the papal coronation. An oath that started way before us, that we’d learned from our dads and uncles.

It was a silly thing we did as children, preventing each other from snitching about who ate cookies before dinner or who really kicked the soccer ball through Aunt Lyra’s kitchen window. But the older we get, the more important our promises to each other become. Like each one we make only adds another lock on the chain that has bonded us since we were babies.

I hook a left, adding more distance between us and my ex-fuckup’s house. The music buzzing, one of my favorite bands playing from the speakers, painfully reminds me that my phone is still Bluetoothed to this piece of shit.

“While the sight of Tex Matthews’s face was completely worth my unathletic display of how not to run,” Andy says above Carlos Santana’s guitar solo, “where do you plan on hiding this car? Dad’s not blind.”

“Was thinking the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, drive it right off the Peak.” I grin around the sentence, thinking of how incredible it’s going to be seeing Tex sob as his car disappears into the inky darkness of the sea. “Got any ideas, Andy?”

“Dad is going to fucking kill you.”

“Like you care.” I flick my eyes over to the passenger seat, smirking. “You’re just scared I’ll tell him you were with me. Fear not, perfect one. I wouldn’t dare tarnish your reputation.”

My sister lifts her middle finger at me, shaking her head with a grin. “Shut up and drive.”

She thinks I’m just teasing, but I’m not.

Andromeda Van Doren is the epitome of beauty, and I’ve never known her to be bad at anything. Music, art, sports, academics, the list could go on and on for hours.

She doesn’t blend in, even though I know she wishes she could. Fade into the darkness and lurk the way Ezra does. But she shines too brightly in her silence to ever be ignored, from her delicate cupid’s bow to the sprinkling of freckles across her nose.

It’s the beauty ancient priestesses beheld, the kind that whispers rather than shouts. It’s unparalleled, ethereal. She has a way of pulling you into her quiet presence, an uncanny ability to empathize with others, this depth in her soul that I’ve always been jealous of.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Her existence is effortless, and mine is a fucking battle.

“I feel for the dude you actually fall for, Phi. You gonna take his balls straight off or tease him first?”

My fingers tighten around the wheel, foot pressing harder on the gas.

“Next time you see me talking to a man, run me over with a car. Please and thank you. I’m celibate starting today.”

“Aye aye, Captain.” Atlas salutes me in the rearview mirror before he turns toward Andy. “I give it three days.”

“I’ll put fifty on twenty-four hours.”

“Please, continue talking shit. I’d love to kick you both out on the curb.”

The edges of the town blur as soaring pine trees flank either side of the road. When I was little, I used to think the branches were crippled hands, waiting for their moment to snatch up our car only to swallow us whole. But when you grow up here, the scary parts become another quirk to admire.

Ponderosa Springs is a desolate place, and I grew up in its unforgiving heart.

Despite everything being a Van Doren in this place has cost me, I refuse to let the vultures win. They can take it all, but this is my home. They’ll never touch the love I have for it.

The roaring of waves touches my ears, letting me know we are close to our house. Hooking a left, taking us deeper into the Ponderosa woods, I start to slow down.

Headlights illuminate the dark iron gate, the barrier that guards our family from all the treachery that lives within the Springs. Andromeda leans through the window, her waist resting on the seal as she plugs in the gate code.

It’s about a half-mile driveway once the wrought iron pulls apart. Once I get to the split, I head right. I’d always found it so cool how my home was always connected to the Caldwells’, only a private road separating the two houses. It made sneaking out and stumbling into trouble much easier.

Our home rises like a twisted giant from the forest floor. The Victorian mansion looms over the dense woods, its dark gray stone walls covered in crawling ivy.

In the dark, it’s menacing. A frightful home you’d expect monsters to inhabit. But the inside? Love grows like it was meant to bloom there and only there.

“Here’s to hoping everyone is asleep,” I mutter, pulling toward Dad’s garage.

I’m sure when he first had it contracted, he imagined it being his man cave of sorts. Not even he could’ve prepared for how much time each of his kids spend in here.

With one hand, I type in the passcode on my phone before punching the garage entry code in on my app, lifting the doors so that I can park on top of the black epoxy-coated floors.

I slide out of the car, leaving the keys inside, looking around at how out of place the Camaro looks in a garage filled with so many imports. A grin spreads across my lips, thinking of how pissed Tex is right now. How absolutely enraged he’s going to be when he finds out his prize possession went for a dive tomorrow evening.

“I’m taking my chances and hurling myself through Ezra’s window. Wish me luck. Good work tonight, Phi. My offer stands—if you need me to break his nose⁠—”

“I can handle it,” I interrupt him, pulling him into a side hug. “Thanks though.”

I knew if I gave him permission to beat the shit out of Tex, it would end up with more than a broken nose. Beneath his sunshine exterior is a piece of him that craves chaos and the violence that naturally blossoms from it. He needs it, but not enough to cause waves like his starkly opposite twin.

Atlas is only the saint because Ezra is so much worse.

“Always got your back, Phi-fi-fo-fum.”

My eyes roll when he leans down to peck my forehead before ruffling my hair. I cross my fingers he doesn’t fall and break a leg trying to scale the side of his house.

“Where are you going?” I ask my sister, who is trying to discreetly weasel her way toward the sidewalk instead of our home.

That’s the thing about Andy—she’s quiet, so it’s hard to notice when she disappears and even harder to figure out where she goes.

“Styx Cove. Be home in the morning,” she mutters.

Always chasing her shadow.

“Be careful. I’ll cover for you.”

“You’re the best.”

I wave her off, rolling my eyes as she starts to walk away, “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

After she’s gone, I make sure the garage door closes before leaving through the side. The roaring ocean tucked against the edge of my backyard fills the silence to the door.

Before, I might have been more sneaky coming back home. Actually, I wouldn’t have even snuck out. I would have been home on a Saturday, binging Doctor Who until two in the morning.

I used to fear my parents’ disappointment, so much so that I never even dreamed of acting out. I respected and loved them so fucking much that the idea of letting them down? It crushed me.

But that was before, and we live in the now.

Now, I’m used to it.

But no matter how accustomed I get to the disappointment in their eyes, it still fucking stings every fucking time.

The front door opens with a creak, moonlight streaming into our spacious living room. There is no noise, only silence to greet me. Or at least there is for a moment, until I glide by the kitchen, only to catch the sound of a lighter striking in the night.

I spot the flame from the corner of my eye, the dim glow illuminating a puff of smoke and a tattoo across the wielder’s knuckles. My mother’s name is inked in a black gothic font, as if the world needed a reminder of my father’s love for her.

“Phi.”

Great. Here we fucking go.

I steel my spine, which has gotten easier over the years, but God, I fucking hate this. The smell of cigar smoke hits my nose, and the overhead kitchen light flicks on and shines a light on my father’s brown hair peppered with gray.

“Can we do this in the morning?” I toe my boots off, tossing them toward the shoe closet, hearing them hit the floor with a thud. “I’m tired.”

“Do I want to know what happened tonight?” he asks, strong shoulder leaning against the fridge, watching me with careful eyes.

Up until the age of fourteen, I was glass to Rook Van Doren. He was always able to see through me. Even at a young age, there was no one on the earth who knew me better than Dad. I wish I could say I don’t remember when that changed.

But it is a violent memory that refused to leave me, no matter how many times I tried to rip it from my brain.

A fake yawn stretches my mouth as I shrug. “Went to a party, smoked a blunt. You might get a call in the morning about me stealing a car. But that’s about it.”

“You’re going to return Tex’s car in the morning, so that call won’t be happening.” He lifts his phone and wiggles the security camera pictures on the screen, pushing off the fridge and taking long strides in my direction. “What did I say about driving while you’re high? You had your sister and Atlas in the car, Phi. You’re smarter than this, kid.”

You’re better than this. You’re smarter than this. This isn’t you.

He has so much faith in me. The belief in my goodness, in the core of me, is staggering. Nothing short of killing someone right in front of his eyes would change the way he sees me. I’m always going to be his sweet Phi, his little genius.

I wish he’d take a hint. I wish he’d accept the truth that is right in front of his eyes.

His little girl died four years ago.

I’m what remains.

“Yeah, I’d rather slice my tongue with a rusty razor than take his fucking car back. That’s not happening,” I bite, tossing my jacket onto the couch. “And I smoked like six hours ago, dude. I was fine to drive.”

“Seraphina, where did we go wrong? Where did I go wrong?” Sadness ripples through his hazel eyes, and I can see how tired he is. Exhausted from work, from having the same fight with me day in and day out. “I just need you to talk to me, kid. Whatever it is, we can figure it out.”

The pure heartbreak on his face shatters me.

Give up! Just fucking give up already!

I want to beg him to just let me go. I’m a lost cause, and the sooner he cuts the thread, the easier it will be for all of us.

“You mean, when did I stop being perfect like Andy? Do you bitch at Reign for this shit too? I’m pretty sure he was at the same fucking party, getting his dick su⁠—”

“This isn’t about tonight, and you know it.” The snap in his tone makes my stomach roll. It’s raw, and I can hear how upset he is in every word. “This is about your behavior the past few years. Your mom keeps telling me you’ll tell us when you’re ready. That if I keep pushing, you’ll just keep shutting down. But getting your acceptance from MIT was your dream, and when it was revoked you barely batted an eye. I know you. I know you like I know myself, sweet Phi. This isn’t you.”

I swallow the urge to cry.

God, I want to hate him. It would be easier to hate him. But I can’t because he’s an amazing dad, and he loves me. He has loved me every single day of my life, and it’s that love that keeps me forever trapped.

“Knew.” My voice is venom, hoping it’s potent enough to get him to back off. “You knew me. I didn’t turn out the way you wanted. That’s a you problem. Not mine. Should have thought of that when you signed the adoption papers, dude.”

Dad flinches—the strongest man I’ve ever known flinches as if I’d slapped him.

“Seraphina, you’ve been my daughter since you were eleven days old.”

“You want a medal?”

His jaw clenches, anger covering up his hurt. Something I know all too well. I may not be biologically tied to this man, but we are so similar it’s fucking insane.

“Go.” He points to the stairs, brows furrowed. “Go to your room. You’re grounded.”

“I’m eighteen. You can’t fucking ground me,” I argue.

“If you live under my roof, you live by rules. You will go upstairs. You will return that fucking car.”

I roll my eyes, scoffing as I walk past him toward the stairs. “Whatever you say, Judge.”

“Bedroom, Seraphina. Now. Or I swear to the Styx, come Monday morning, you’ll have community service.” He’s not screaming, but it feels like he is with the weight of his words. “Again.”

My door vibrates as I slam it shut, encasing me inside my room, where it is only me and silence. No one can see me in here. I’m all alone.

I fall onto the wall, back sliding down as I let the tears flow from my eyes freely. My hands find my hair as I quietly sob.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to the dark. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I accepted years ago were made years ago that I would have to live with what happened to me alone. But protecting my family has only gotten harder on my heart, and I’m starting to believe the organ in my chest was never soft to begin with.

It was always stone.

My dad will hate himself forever, blame himself for the way our relationship fell apart, but that is easier to swallow than the truth. I’ll never be able to explain why I no longer cared about my acceptance to the university of my dreams or why I stopped being honest with him.

I can never tell him because the truth would obliterate my father, and I will not be the reason the patriarch of my family is ruined.

He needs to be whole so that he can guide Reign and look after Andromeda. There is still hope for them. So instead of ripping the door off the hinges and barreling down the steps to apologize, to find safety in my dad’s arms like I have desperately wanted for years now, I do the opposite.

I turn the lock on my door.