Untethered: A dark forbidden romance (St Jude Rules Book 1) Read online

  Untethered

  St. Jude Rules Book 1

  M Jameson

  M Jameson

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to people living or deceased, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the respective owners’ property and are only used for reference purposes. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  The following story contains mature themes, strong language, and sexual situations that some may find offensive. It is intended for mature, adult readers only. If cheating and abuse are sensitive topics, I advise you to skip this book.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2021 and Published by Author M Jameson

  Edited by Whiskey and Books

  Contents

  Quote

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Now

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  About the Author

  Quote

  “From the deepest desires, often come the deadliest hate.” - Socrates.

  1

  Isabella

  I hate Flynn Drake, and the list of reasons seems to grow exponentially every day. I actually have one, a list that is, in a small leather-bound notebook I hide between horror titles in my bookcase. He’s that fucker in the drain feeding on children, the ghost in the stairwell. A nightmare I’ve endured for most of my life.

  So, as I stand in front of my peers at St. Jude’s High, surrounded by our families, I don't just celebrate that I'm valedictorian or that I graduated top of my class. I celebrate the fact that I will not have to see his smug ass face once I’m at Stanford. And if I’m lucky, he’ll either move far away, or die a gruesome death before I have to lay eyes on him ever again.

  Look at him, sitting in the crowd, his hands lazily slung around his fuck buddy’s shoulder. I feel my jaw tick. I don’t get what Kenzie Yates sees in him or what any of the girls in this town find attractive in the asshole. And mostly, I don’t get why he’s here today, at my graduation. Last I heard, the feeling of hatred between us was mutual so, I didn’t expect to see him here today.

  No, I realize, I don’t hate him; I loathe Flynn Drake. I have since the day we met ten years ago when he barreled his way into my life like a bulldozer, wrecking everything in its path. One more look his way, and I know I will despise that sorry excuse of a boy until I die. That’s a guarantee.

  “And so, in closing, graduates, as we go forth into the world, may our goal be to walk with our heads held high, making every endeavor to leave our mark wherever we go,” I flash the crowd my brightest smile, and everyone rises to their feet, applauding.

  I shake hands with the panel of educators, focusing on their warm smiles and well wishes. This phase of my life is behind me, and I’m moving on to something new. Making my way off the stage, I wave at the audience, feeling my chest swell with pride. This will be the last time I take to the stage.

  And then it happens, something I should have seen coming.

  It was all too good to be true. This day has been too uneventful, so I should have known, I think to myself as I tumble off the stage. There was a staircase there only minutes ago. In a blur I see two students rushing forward to help me, but it’s too late. I hit the ground with a thud. My graduation gown, and most likely my white shift dress too, covers my head.

  Tugging the material down wildly, my gaze settles on my nemesis as I stand. He smirks, then winks, and I face heats, my heart thuds, as I charge down the aisle, a bull in the ring targeting that red flag, profanities spewing from my mouth as I tackle him to the ground, straddling his waist, raining punches on his chest. Flynn’s hands shield his face. Coward. Hands tug me off him, but I’m high on adrenaline, clawing and trying to kick free, needing to get my hands on him again.

  “I hate you, Flynn! God, I hate you!”

  He straightens himself up, looking mortified, eyes wide.

  “What is wrong with you, Isabella?” My mother yells, her hands roaming over her precious stepson, making sure he’s unharmed.

  My stepfather Royce steps between the two of us, shaking his head knowingly, casting his son a look of disapproval. “Let it go, Eloise. These two need to fight their own battles. Christ! Do we really need to be putting out fires between you two all the time?” He runs his hands through his hair.

  Royce is an older, much kinder version of his nasty son. Royce’s dusty brown hair is streaked with gray, and his green eyes are softer.

  “He did that; he moved those stairs!” I reach out for Flynn again, but Royce holds his hand up.

  “That is enough, Bella. Did you have anything to do with that?” Royce glares at his son, waving his hand toward the stage. Of course he did. Not that he’d admit it. The way Royce asks the questions sounds like he’s pretty convinced that Flynn did it already. He has a way of seeing through the charade that Flynn often puts on.

  My mother smiles tightly at the onlookers who gather to watch another Bella and Flynn face-off. This one has been brewing since the last time he was home two months ago for our parents' anniversary dinner, where he smothered ketchup on my chair when I went to the bathroom. I was wearing a fucking white dress.

  “How could I have done that from all the way here, Bella?” Flynn directs the question to me. The lying bastard. Still, he says it so convincingly, I almost doubt myself. Almost, except I know him. He has humiliated and bullied me for years. I hated living in my home because of him.

  “You probably had one of your minions do it for you,” I snap. “You are not fooling me, asshole.”

  “Isabella,” my mother’s eyes widen into huge blue saucers and I want to reach out and dig at them. She never takes my side. Never. Not with Flynn. First it was about making him feel comfortable in our home, and loved, but eventually he was just better at everything. Less me.

  “Oh, you hold me in high regard, Isa. Do you seriously think I have people doing my bidding for me?” Flynn is the picture of sincerity. And I’m the only one who sees through it, who sieves through the crap seeing the real Flynn, the nasty, selfish bastard.
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  “Now, Isabella, I think you owe your brother an apology.” My mom insists.

  Brother. This asshole is no brother of mine.

  “I owe him nothing,” I say through gritted teeth, shrugging off my stepfather’s hands before storming off. “You will rue the day, Flynn. I promise you that.” I snarl over my shoulder.

  Don’t let him get to me.

  Never let him win.

  I will not let him destroy everything.

  Again.

  I repeat the mantra I’ve been saying since I was eight years old. Flynn is to me, what weed killer is to weed, hazardous. I hold my head up high, ignoring the giggles and chuckles. Cali seems too fucking far away. I would have loved to get into their Summer program, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. It’s my fucking trust fund, but somehow she’s still in charge, using emotional blackmail to keep me under her thumb.

  “It’s bad enough you’re moving so far from home, Isabella. What would your father say if he were here?” she’d sulked. As if she cares that much.

  “Oh, God, Bella, are you hurt?” My best friend Roxy asks, falling into step with me.

  “I am perfectly fine,” I tell her, smoothing my hair. “But, he better be ready for what’s coming his way.”

  “Babe, this rivalry between you two just keeps getting worse, something’s gotta give. You two are just treading a very thin line.” She lets out a long sigh. “I mean, Flynn is in his last year of college for goodness’ sake and he’s still acting like a kid. You know better.”

  “Well, I held up a white flag for the sake of today, but he threw the first punch.”

  “Technically you did, but…” She holds up her hands when I shoot her a glare.

  “Hey, whose side are you on? Flynn has made my life a living hell. You know what he’s like.”

  I reach the parking lot and there she is, Flynn’s pride and joy. Francesca. She’s a black 1969 Mustang Sports roof. He spent years mating the sexy exterior to a 2014 Shelby GT500. This car is the only thing the man cares about. This car is everything to him. He talks about Francesca like one would talk about a lover. But I suppose a guy like Flynn only has a place in his heart for an inanimate object. I feel adrenaline coursing through my veins as I take a step toward the vehicle.

  “Not the stang, Bella. It was just a lame prank. You can’t be serious?”

  “Yes, yes I am,” I say, grinning and walking up to Cesca as he lovingly nicknamed her. I pull my keys to my Merc out of the pocket of my dress and sigh. “Sorry pretty girl, but your daddy’s been a bad, bad boy.” I run the key over the bonnet and down the sides. I press hard enough to scrape it. It’s exhilarating, the sound of metal against metal as I circle the car. The gasps from Roxy, the thud of my heart against my ribcage. I carve all the hatred I have for Flynn Drake into that car, and I don’t feel an ounce of remorse.

  I turn and watch Roxy walking away quickly, obviously wanting nothing to do with the aftermath.

  “Come on, Rox. You’re going to miss the good part,” I snort. “Your loss.” I say under my breath, standing back and admiring my handiwork. When I’m done, I pick up a brick and toss it against the front windscreen to set the alarm off. I grin as it crashes through the glass. He wanted to put in shatterproof glass because he wanted to stay true to the original design. Too fucking bad.

  “The fuck!” I hear him behind me. My cheeks hurt from the wide smile on my face. I feel sweat beading on my forehead.

  “Bella, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, brother dearest. I did.” He goes from running his hands through his disheveled hair, to rubbing it down his face, to crouching. The way his eyes bulge and the veins on his neck bob makes me grin. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, that’ll teach you to be a little bitch, Flynny.” I lean down and ruffle his hair, walking away.

  Climbing into my car, I can’t hold back the laughter. Flynn stands, turning to face me, his eyes ablaze. I high tail out of there just as he bolts toward me.

  He’ll think twice about messing with me. I’m fucking sick and tired of Flynn destroying every important thing for me. He’s done everything from piss on my bed and get me in trouble for it, to burning my college application. Thankfully, I had a back-up.

  Flynn Drake is a fucking asshole.

  I pull into my driveway, and not even a minute later, he pulls up. The way he climbs out of that car of his tells me he’s pissed. Welcome to the club Flynny, you wanna play with fire; you gonna get burned.

  2

  Isabella - Ten years ago

  “Honey, Isabella. Where are you? They’re almost here.” My mom shouts in front of the coat closet I’m hiding in. I hold my hands over my mouth so she can’t hear me breathing and stay really still. She can’t see me, but I can see everything through the shutters. The entrance hall, the dining room, and the living room. I take a step back, concealing myself behind my mother’s winter fur coats, just in case.

  “Helena, have you seen Isabella? Royce will be here any minute.” My mother sounds flustered. She’d warned me to be on my best behavior, wear my best dress and shiniest leather shoes.

  “She was just in her bedroom Mam, maybe she’s gone outside to play. I’ll check.”

  Our housekeeper scurries off to look for me, and I have to hold back a laugh. Sorry, Helena.

  The doorbell rings. “When I find you, Isabella Serrano, there will be hell to pay,” my mother mutters under her breath as she looks at herself in the mirror one more time, straightens her pinstripe pencil skirt, and answers the door.

  “Royce, darling,” I mimic the way she greets her boyfriend silently. He’s too old to be anyone’s boyfriend. She places a kiss on his cheek. My mother met Royce Drake two months ago, and she’s already smitten. I overheard Mom talking to Mrs. Cooper, and that’s what Mrs. Cooper says she is. When I asked Helena about it, she told me it’s when a woman likes a man a lot and intends to marry them. The last thing I need is a new father. I barely knew mine. So, it is unfair that he is going to be replaced already. Not that I don’t like Royce, he’s a great man, far kinder and funnier than Mom. My mother is all about rules.

  “And you must be Flynn. I am so pleased to meet you.” My mother bends a little at the waist, extending her hand. A little boy walks over the threshold and takes my mother’s hand, shaking it all fancy. He looks to be a few years older than me, brown hair that looks almost dusty. His eyes are so green, it reminds me of the forest I used to go hiking in.

  “Hello, Mrs. Serrano,” the boy greets. He doesn’t smile, just looks up at his father.

  “Aunt Eloise will do. No need to be so formal.” She straightens up.

  The boy’s brown slacks are too large for his scrawny frame, and a white button-down shirt he wears is a bit too grown up, if you ask me. He looks around the house, then at his father.

  “Come in, please.” My mom says.

  “Go on into the living room, Flynn, we’ll be right in.” His father says, pointing in the direction the boy should go.

  No sooner than the boy disappears is Royce’s mouth on my mom’s, sucking at her face as he slams her against the wall, his hands on her boobs over her top. I have to look away. It's so gross. I look into the living room and the boy is standing there, and I swear he is staring right at me. His lips tugged up on one side in a wicked smile.

  I look back at where my mother and Royce are still sucking each other's face. They pull apart when Helena comes in.

  “Oh, excuse me, mam,” Helena’s cheeks turn pink.

  “Have you found her?” My mother asks, out of breath from all that face sucking.

  “No, Mam.”

  “Isabella!” My mom shouts and I step further into the closet. I want to embarrass her because it makes me feel good.

  The boy walks straight to the closet.

  “No. No. No.” I whisper.

  “Are you okay, Flynn?” Royce asks.

  “I thought I heard something in here,” he says. He opens the door and grins at me. “Oh, you must be Isabella.”

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nbsp; “Isabella, you get out here this minute,” my mother shrieks. Royce places a hand on her upper arm, and she seems to calm down.

  I step out of the cupboard, coming face to face with the boy, Flynn Drake.

  “I didn’t know you were playing hide and seek,” he says so sweetly it could pass as him being nice. But I know he isn’t. He’s being nasty and I can get just as wicked.

  “Oh, I wasn’t. I was just trying to hide away long enough for you to leave.” I scowl.

  “Isabella Maria Serrano!” My mother shouts.

  “Oh, it’s alright Eloise. I think Isabella and I just need to get to know each other.” He says sweetly.

  Royce leads my mother into the living room. I follow close behind, staring over my shoulder at the little demon.

  “You should hide better, you know.” He whispers.

  “I was until you arrived. How did you know I was in there?” I hiss.

  “I spent a lot of time in closets.”

  My chin juts out. “That’s exactly where nasty insects like you belong,” I snap.

  Flynn’s brows pull together, but he doesn’t respond. I’ll get him back, and when I do, he’ll be so sorry.

  3

  Flynn - Present Day

  I am going to kill that little bitch. Oh, she’s going to be so fucking sorry. I draw the line at Cesca. I mean she thinks that falling off a stage, getting ruffled up a bit, warrants this kind of retaliation. Of all the fucked up childish bullshit the girl has pulled on me.