𝐒𝐲𝐧 ┃𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

101. 𝐼 𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑇𝑜 𝐵𝑒 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼－𝑅𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑁𝑜𝑤

Syn

I sent a glare Paris's way as everyone turned to me. He was continuously stepping out of line today. First with calling Xavier and Cleo, and now with telling my mother and father something that was none of their goddamn concern.

So what if I died doing this? If that's what it took to guarantee Queen and my family's safety, I'd do it in a heartbeat. I died once and it hurt like a bitch...but I could do it again.

"What is he talking about?" My father looked at me. I almost rolled my eyes as his familiar overbearing stare was focused on me, but I held back. It wasn't like they truly deserved the truth, but If we were going to figure this out, I needed to be transparent.

For Queen.

"I'm in recovery," I admitted.

"Recovery?" My mother shook her head, not understanding. "Recovery from what?"

"An injury is temporary," my father spoke. "You won't die if—"

"It's not from an injury," I said. I ran a hand through my hair, glancing at Drake who must've been beyond excited to hear how weak I was— but I was given a nod instead. Of course, he wasn't surprised by this...it was his plan all along— to work with Stella to supply me drugs and weaken me enough to where he could kill me. It was well thought out, I had to admit. If it hadn't been for Queen's intervention I couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty that I'd still be here.

"Then what?" My father asked. I met his eye and he studied me. After a few moments of silence from me not knowing where to start, I could see his eyes soften as he shook his head slowly. "No. No." He took a step back weakly and my mother looked at him, lost.

"What is it?" She begged.

He looked at me, his eyes watering as he held a hand over his mouth and shook his head. "No!" He dropped his hand from his mouth and pointed at me. "You would never do drugs. That's not you— you know better," he said lowly. "I did everything wrong as your father but I made sure you knew that, at the very fucking least."

I felt a nudge in my chest at his words as I remembered his countless lectures...but life didn't work that way. The past warnings and talks don't surface while you're in the midst of the shit. They come later, after the guilt and reality of what you've done to yourself sets in.

"Drugs mean a loss of control and you, Syn; my goddamn son—don't lose control," he snapped. "Tell me I at least know that about you."

I nodded, my eyes cast to the floor before I shrugged. "It just happened—"

"It just—" He held a fist against his mouth before moving his hands to his sides. "What drug?"

"Does it matter?" I asked, ignoring my mother crying into her hands and trying her best not to touch me.

"What drug, Syn?"

I sighed. "Capxica." As soon as the word left my mouth I knew what his reaction would be. The drug he spent the better part of my life trying to rid from the Underworld was the one that brought us to this moment. It had to be killing him.

Good.

"Capxi— you know how lethal that is! You could've died, Syn!"