Wrath of an Exile (The River Styx Heathens #1)

by Monty Jay

“TP! TP!” Shouting the nickname Dad told me to use, I burst into Uncle Thatcher’s office. He says it’s his favorite, and I think it’s funny ’cause it stands for toilet paper. I skid to a stop in front of the humongous wooden desk. “Yes, mini version of Rook?” He looks up at me from the papers in his hands, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, looking annoyed as per usual. “Where is the coffin Aunt Lyra sleeps in?” I blurt out, rocking back and forth on my heels, tired of searching their never-ending house. He lets out a small laugh, something I don’t hear from him a lot. “You think we are vampires?” “Not you. You’re not cool enough. You sell houses. But her, yes. You live in a haunted house, and she always wears black!” He raises his eyebrow at me. “I see.” “So? Where is it?” I’m practically bouncing on my heels, waiting for him to tell me. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but she isn’t a vampire.” Uncle Thatch sets his papers down, leaning forward and peering at me from his chair with a small grin. “And if she was, I’d be one too. Whatever your Aunt Lyra is, I am.”

I miss them so bad

“You’re here because of my wife, because she is patient and kind,” he says finally, voice steady as ever. “I don’t share those qualities.” “Is this supposed to scare me?” I counter, my voice edged with mockery. He cocks his head, the scent of tobacco and authority clinging to him like a second skin, making me sick to my fucking stomach. “Stay away from my daughter.” “Just one or both?” I arch a brow.

I’m sorry but they’re just gagging each other back to back and I’m eating it up 😩😩

“If you hurt Seraphina—if you so much as breathe too close to her, I’ll⁠—” “You’ll?” I interrupt, stepping into his space, daring him to make a move. “You’ll what? You gonna kill me, Judge?” A slow grin spreads across Rook’s face, like the idea of my death brings him nothing but pure joy. He takes another slow drag from his cigar, smoke curling in front of his face. “I’ll show you why Ponderosa Springs called me the Devil long before they ever called me Judge.”

DA DA DUM DADUM BOW BOW BOW!! I MISSED MY MAN ROOK 😩😩😩😩🤭🤭🤭😅😅😅😝😝😝😝

“Desperate to feel some kind of connection to Sage. Andy has her natural auburn hair under all the pink, and I wanted that. Some physical proof that I belonged, that I was hers. Her daughter.”

Pain 😔

She’s warm, and I’m ice-cold. She hates pickles, so I eat them for her. She’s day, and I’m night. Sun, moon. Phi is everything I’m not, but in all the ways that count, she feels familiar, like I’ve known her all my life. A constant beat in a song that never changes, even when the rest of the world goes off-key. There’s a rhythm to our chaos, a twisted comfort in knowing that, beneath the pain, we understand each other in ways no one else could.

I love them so much it hurts

But for her? I’d kneel.

“What happened?” “Phi,” I choke out, the word leaving me like a broken prayer. I can’t stop the tears burning at the corners of my eyes, but I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck if he sees me like this. “Seraphina, Phi, she…” My throat closes, the words strangling me, the panic finally breaking through. I reach out, trying to steady myself by grabbing for the back of a leather chair, but I miss. My legs give way beneath me, and I crash to the floor, knees slamming against the hardwood with a hollow, resounding thud. The pain barely registers. It’s drowned out by the burning in my chest, an unbearable pressure that’s threatening to swallow me whole. Don’t panic, Jude. Don’t panic. Don’t panic, Jude. Don’t panic. Don’t panic, Jude. Don’t panic. “Jude, hey, kid, look at me.” Rook’s voice is closer now, low and steady. I feel his hands on my face, rough palms holding me up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes are fierce, focused, but there’s something else there, too, and it mirrors the fear in mine.

Yep. I’m crying at work 😅

God…please…when? 😔😩

“If you hurt my niece, I will give your spine to my wife as an anniversary gift,” Thatcher says, voice low and steady, the kind of threat that doesn’t need repeating.

Ohh how I missed my man Thatcher 🥰🤭