Damon Felix didn't dream much. Maybe it was because, according to all of America, his life was the dream that everyone wanted and aspired to have.

Either that or he just didn't have a very big imagination.

However, when he did dream, he always remembered them. Mostly because they weren't figments but actual memories. Random memories with a touch of imaginary 'What-the-fuck-was-that-ness'. Like standing as formally as possible at one of the annoying Beverly Hills event whilst listening to some washed-up billionaire talk about fundraisers - and then abruptly reciting the lyrics to a Kanye West song. Or playing a good game of Lacrosse on Alabaster Prep's lush field and injuring poor Connor Royce high off of Brett Richers' steroids, Coach Mitchells' whistle suddenly sounding like an underwater whale.

And then sometimes the dreams were more scary rather than random memories with a touch of imagination. Like arguing with Jac Lexington on the hot tub balcony and raising his fist over her - except in the dream, he actually hit her. Or crashing his father's favorite Corvette, except somehow, he actually died.

Or like the dream he was having now in which a twelve-year-old Damon whom he seemed to be following, squeezed through the crack in the doorway where his father stood; stony faced and still as marble. The maid, Griselda, had tried to pull him back along with every other staff that was on shift in the Felix estate that day but Damon was far too curious because making hoops in the large Basketball court in the backyard had become boring and Erika was being a bitch.

So Damon shrugged off the reaching hands of the Help and peered into the spacious master bathroom and there she was, his mother in the same soft pink Narciso Rodriguez slip dress she'd been wearing at their dinner in NYC earlier, the pure glass tub she laid in filled to the brim with sparkling water. At first, Damon had wondered why she was taking a bath with her clothes on because last time he checked, no one did that except for Jason Price - a complete weirdo who he sat next to at Weston Day School who ate hundred dollar bills at recess and loved to give TMI.

It took a few moments for him to realize that she was dead. Her ocean blue eyes were wide open and a hand hung off the sill of the bathtub, a bottle strewn on the marble tiled floor of peculiar white tablets that he'd seen her take during random moments of the day. Like after dinner, before a day out on Rodeo Drive, or after they were safely tucked in their Range Rover embellished with tinted windows.

And once he realized that she was gone, relief coursed through Damon like a wave because it meant 'no more.' No more slaps across the face whenever the wrong words were spoken, no more holding her hair as she threw up red blood that matched the color of her MAC lipstick, no more of the bullshit stories to explain away splotches of purple and Gucci sunglasses that seemed to be glued to her face.

It was over and she was free and inside, Damon breathed a sigh of solace.

Until Matthew Felix, his hard, stern-faced father, actually broke down and started to cry. He abruptly ran over to the tub and started to cradle his wife's head, crying into her damp, blonde hair and saying something under his breath that Damon couldn't hear.

Someone finally dialed 911 and the exhale of relief Damon had quickly turned into trepidation. Because this was the first time he'd ever seen his Dad actually love his mother, not the facade they put on in front of others with the perfect image of 'the-millionaire-and-his-lovely-trophy-wife,' but actually giving a damn for once.

Which meant despite everything, he might have really loved her.

And now she was gone.

Matthew must have finally realized Damon was standing in the doorway because he yelled at the peasants tending to his estate to escort him to his room.

However, instead of being guided away, in the dream Glory Felix rose up from the tub with a huge gasp. Almost like a vampire rising from their coffin. She stepped out of the tub, blonde hair soaking wet, and-

"Hey, rich kid! Wake up!"

Damon was startled out of his creepy dream by the onslaught of ice cold water being poured over his head, the liquid causing goosebumps to spring up on his skin and the entire image of his dead mother rising from her watery grave whisked away by water droplets that might as well have been icicles from Antarctica.

He forced his eyes open despite the stinging water coaxing them closed to see a bulky man bundled up in a green army jacket and a white-and-black Dodgers baseball cap atop his bald head smirking back at him, a sickly green mop bucket in his calloused hands.

"Where the hell am I?" Damon could barely manage to say, too disoriented to make the baldie regret every word he'd just uttered. He could see where he was but it didn't make any sense; a dingy bed without any sheets that was littered with bed bugs and all his belongings, tattered windows drawn to keep out whatever light was waiting outside, a small TV , and zip ties....that were currently fastened around his wrists, binding him to the wooden chair he sat on.

However, that wasn't the least of what didn't make sense. The most puzzling sight of all was Silk Caldwell tied to a chair beside him, head hanging so low that her shoulder-length coils hid her face and right across from Damon, two more wooden chairs - his sister, Erika, occupying one in zip ties.

Their eyes met; Damon's wearing a look of, 'What the hell is going on?' and Erika's a mix of emotions that Damon had thought were totally impossible for his cruel sister; fright and relief?

Immediately, it clicked. The awkward girl at the club, the drink, the whispered, 'Sorry'. He had just been drugged and kidnapped! 'But what are Silk and Erika doing here?' Were they kidnapped too? Or was this some sort of prank by yours truly - although Damon couldn't see Erika working with a bald guy who was a posterchild for skinheads...but then again, Erika had done a lot of fucked up things he had often put past her.

Like framing him just so she could watch him get his ass kicked every night, or sabotaging a Princeton scout so he'd lose his chance for early acceptance, or even the worst of them all; fiddling with their mother's pills the very day before she was found in a tub after an overdose - but Damon still put that past her anyway because it was too mind boggling to think about.

Damon brushed all these thoughts off with the most smoldering glare he could muster whilst nauseated from Date Rape drugs.

This had to be some sick joke orchestrated by his sister and he wasn't about to turn into Connor Royce and start peeing his damn pants. Erika didn't deserve that satisfaction and more importantly, that would be weak. 'Felix men aren't weak,' Matthew had said a thousand times.

"You know what? I'll give you that," The bald man shrugged, swinging his mop bucket from hand to callused hand. He rested his eerie grey eyes on Damon who didn't falter in his glare. "My name is Shane - or at least that's what I'll have you rich brats call me. And you four are me and my buddy Bryke's cash cows. If you play this as cooperatively as expected, we won't have to kill you."

He leaned down to chair level, head cocked to the side. "Now, Damon, would you like to be the one who empties out your father's AmEx card?"

Damon only continued to glare. He could feel his hands turning into fists that all but resisted the zip ties digging into his skin. He managed to shoot Erika look, a look as if to say, 'You're not really this fucked up, are you?'

However, her head was bowed and her chest was heaving now. She was probably laughing. Of course, this was all a prank, only a prank that Erika Felix could ever conjure and carry out so beautifully.

She'd probably used the sources she had - but Damon could never figure out how - to locate him in Las Vegas and plant an awkward-but-cute-girl to lure him out!

This was all a staged move from the antichrist herself because she couldn't bear to leave him alone even when he wasn't "stealing" their father's attention. It was as the Queen had said herself back at the auction; She didn't even own a white flag. This "sibling rivalry" she kept taking too far was never going to end.

Even when Damon just wanted to get away from it.

So he looked Erika's planted actor in the eye and proceeded to say as politely as possible, "Fuck.You."

Shane only raised a half-shaved eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You know what I said." Damon tsked, shooting Erika a glower but her jaw was ajar and there was a slight tremble to her frame.

"Mind taking those two words back? You'd be doing yourself a favor." Shane sneered, although there was a blandness to his tone, almost as if he were bored by the predicament.

Damon, however, refused to waver. This wasn't real, this was all a stupid prank that only Erika could take to Hollywood levels. So instead of taking back his words, he simply replied with,"You can take those two words and shove it up your broke ass. I'm not helping you with anything."

He was not backing down. 'Felix men aren't weak.' And he wouldn't be weak, even in a situation that felt too real for words.

Shane took in Damon's sentences with a pensive expression, standing upright again. Then he set down the mop bucket, the clanging sound it made ringing in Damon's ears, and turned to Erika. "I'm assuming he's the dumber of the Felixs? Figured that."

Strangely, Erika didn't crack a smile, jaw still hanging as she stared directly at Damon who shot her another look as if to say, 'I know what you're doing and it's not funny.'

"Well, Damon, I don't have time for spoiled children, we have a very tight show to run," Shane sighed as if he were a weary parent.

Damon tsked once more at the word, 'show.' "I bet you do."

"Oh, Damon," Shane said quickly. "Trust me, I really, really do, which is why I'm going to have to do this." He stuck a pale hand in the pocket of his green army jacket and pulled out a gun.

Not a water gun.

Not a gold embellished gun from Gucci.

Not even one of the cheap, peasant Nerf guns.

But a gun.

A real gun.

A gun that was sleek and black and glinted in the sunlight that peeked through the tattered motel curtains.

A gun that was pointed right at Damon's face, a finger calmly on the trigger.

A gun that could kill him right on the spot.

Silk, who'd been frozen in place, suddenly came back to life with a horrified gasp.

It finally clicked, really clicked.

This wasn't a game.

"Since you're refusing to be cooperative, I'm going to have to kill you, Damon," He said ever so dully. "We'll still have one Felix after all and that's more than enough to drain the credit cards and get the ransom. You're expendable."

Damon could barely hear him, entranced by his entire life flashing before him in the barrel of the gun in his face. A life that was filthy rich and pathetically...dumb as fuck.

What the hell had he been doing with his sixteen years? Absolutely nothing except for playing Lacrosse, getting shit-faced drunk, and hooking up. In fact, as his life danced through the barrel of the gun, he realized his life was completely...dumb as fuck.

He was dumb as fuck.

Hell, he was about to die because he mouthed off, thinking this was all some sort of hoax...because he was dumb as fuck.

If Shane actually did it, if Shane actually pulled the trigger, no one would be losing anything.

Sure, his Dad would lose an heir. Coach Mitchell would lose a kickass captain and maybe all his fangirls in the Beverly Hills school district would lose their ovaries for good. But other than that, if he died right here, right now, it wouldn't matter.

In fact, maybe it'd do some good.

His father wouldn't be ruined by all the mistakes he made, every guy on the Lacrosse team would finally get a fair chance at Varsity captain, Erika would finally be happy, and Jac wouldn't ever have to cry over all the shit he pulled ever again.

People would actually be better without him.

Maybe even Brett Richers might sober up after hearing the story of how Damon was shot and killed for partying and going back to a hotel room with an awkward girl.

Because this was real.

There was a gun in his face and he was about to die.

'Maybe I'll get to see Mom again,' He thought, this lone thought rising over the others. After all, she was the only one who hadn't been hurt by his mistakes.

Damon decided that was a good last thought to have and stuck to it - 'but wait!'

Would she even want to see him? He hadn't helped her, not when Matthew was pounding her face in. Not when she was laying in the middle of the ornate hallway crying for hours. He hadn't helped her. He'd let it happen.

He could have told someone.

But all he did was hold her hair while she threw up blood and believed her lies when she slipped on her Gucci sunglasses and said, "Daddy and I were just talking."

'She wouldn't want to see me.'

Shane pressed the barrel of the gun to Damon's temple, the cold metal sending shivers through his very brain. "I suppose I could make a good amount on the dark web selling your body parts-"

"Please don't kill him!" Erika suddenly shouted, startling Damon out of his death-accepting trance. Tears were staining her cheeks and she was fighting her restraints, heaving sobs wracking her thin body. "Kill me instead! Please! Don't hurt him!"

Shane slightly turned towards her again, the barrel of his gun still burning Damon's skin. "Now why would I kill you? If anything, you're the only Felix worth keeping."

Erika heaved out another shaky sob that sounded so painful that Damon grimaced. It sounded too weak to belong to Erika Felix."No-no-no, it's me, I deserve to be shot. I'm - I'm a horrible person, please don't kill him." She managed, peering at her brother through her straggly auburn hair stuck together in muddy clumps.

Damon could finally pinpoint her odd expression. It wasn't a look of devious plotting or a victorious hidden smirk. She was scared, but not for herself. She was scared because this was real. She was scared because he was about to die. She actually cared.

A thought horribly dawned on him.

He was wrong, someone would be fucked up if he were to die right now, and strangely, it would be Erika. 'But why?'

"Interesting, you'd rather die to save your brother," Shane noted as if he were studying lab rats. Erika nodded tearfully whilst Damon tried to find his voice but it was lost in the barrel of that scarily real gun.

"Just kill me instead," Erika kept repeating over and over as if it were some kind of spell.

Damon racked his mind for his nerves.

Fuck, he was scared too. And being scared was weak. He can't be weak - but he was. He always has been. Scared of his father, scared of Erika, scared of Jac, he was fucking scared all the time.

Shane abruptly turned the gun on Erika at that moment.

Silk screamed, "Oh my god!"

Shane pressed the gun to Erika's forehead and sighed. "Fine, one of you has to die at the end of the day."

Damon opened his mouth to say something, anything. He was weak but this was the wrong time to be. He needed to save Erika, he couldn't have her dying for him, even if that meant he'd have to die himself.

Because despite everything, despite all she'd done, he needed her too.

"Just- just kill me!" He stammered, his voice coming out in a hoarse yell that broke off into a cry. He hated that sound.

Shane's finger had been slowly pulling the trigger but he pulled back. "Oh?" was all he said expectantly.

"Just kill me," Damon pleaded. "I'm the dumbass that said fuck you, not her. You can shoot me, you can take my fucking credit cards, I don't care. Just let her be..."

Erika shook her head, her sorrow turning into fury. "You're so stupid, Damon, stop! This is all my fault!"

"No, it's mine! This whole thing is actually my fault so fuck, just kill me! I don't care anymore!" Damon yelled back, although he wasn't even sure what he meant.

Nonetheless, he did know that he really didn't care anymore. He didn't care when Shane turned the gun on him again, didn't care when he could feel the metal against his skin once more.

It was all clear now. He deserved this. He was weak. He'd watched his mother wither away underneath his father and he'd watched Erika wither away too - and yet he had done nothing to stop it. Hell, he'd even watched Jac wither away underneath himself.There was a reason Erika had hated his guts, he always just stood idly by and let things be.

Maybe that's why he hated himself, maybe that's why it was easy to accept the gun against his temple and the possibility of it blowing his brains out.

However, just as Damon squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sound of his brains blown out, he heard Shane sigh again. Opening his eyes, he saw the bald peasant lower his gun - and then produce a pocket knife from his jeans and turn to Erika, sawing off her zip ties and pulling her up by her bulky camouflage suit.

"What are you doing with her?" He demanded but Shane ignored him.

"Bryke! I got another one!" He cried, Silk jumping at the sound of his voice.

The door to the motel bathroom swung open at that moment, a girl in a pineapple-embroidered Dolce & Gabbana polo shirt and black Target skinny jeans stumbling out onto the floor. She was sobbing loudly and she lifted her head up from the stained carpet, Damon instantly recognizing her as the awkward-but-cute-girl that had been planted to drug him.

"Oh my gosh! Kennedy, what did he do to you?" Silk shrieked, leaning forward in her seat.

Kennedy couldn't answer because storming out right behind her was a man clad in a black t-shirt and slacks, blonde hair falling in messily chopped bangs and a skinhead tattoo emblazoned on his cheek. He stabbed a finger at Kennedy who could only hug the floor with all her might. "She's a liar, I called the girl's parents. Turns out she's just a daughter of a Walgreens cashier and all she could offer was three dollars and a bus pass. What do we do with her now?"

"No! I swear! My parents are bankers! Please,don't hurt me!" Kennedy begged, practically tugging on Bryke's pants leg.

However, Bryke shrugged her off with a kick to the gut, sending her slamming against the broken down TV stand.

Silk started to cry.

And Damon found himself wincing. The scene looked too familiar, painfully familiar. "We-we can include her on our ransom," He managed to speak up and Shane gave him a sharp look that Damon couldn't send back with a glare.

"Mr. Felix, the most ruthless businessman in California would be willing to cover a Walgreens cashier's daughter?" He asked.

Damon glanced at Erika, realizing they both had the same thought. Mr. Felix would never cover a peasant - but Damon decided he was going to lie anyway. "Of course, he would. You'd probably get double just for adding her on to the ransom."

Shane and Bryke fell silent, almost as if they were both telepathically deciding together.

Then Shane broke into a tight smile that strained his uncanny features. "Tie her back to her chair," he said dismissively before yanking Erika by the elbow and just as it seemed he were about to go on, he suddenly stopped, turned to Bryke and rubbed his hairless chin before saying, "Never mind, I highly doubt we'd get double the ransom."

And just like that, he raised his gun and shot the girl still huddled on the floor and Damon didn't get to look away fast enough.

And Silk started screaming louder than the ringing in his ears.

And Erika went completely still as Shane pulled her into the bathroom.

And there was nothing Damon could do.

ⓁⓊⓍⓊⓇⓎ

An hour passed but Shane and Erika didn't come out of the bathroom. There wasn't a sound that could be heard from the other side of the burgundy wood door, not even a whisper. And Damon felt himself grow more anxious by the second.

He wasn't exactly a good brother. Hell, Erika hadn't been a good sister either. But still, he had chose not to defend her when it was clear their Dad was being a bias asshat, nor when her lesbo business was floating over the Beverly Hills social scene like a week long Barneys sale.

Erika hadn't been fair to him and yet...he hadn't been fair to her either.

And now when being a good brother was of utmost importance, he couldn't even get out of his damn seat.

He felt his hands ball into fists again and tried to remind himself to stay calm. Bryke was sitting on the bedbug-infested bed, watching him intently as he sifted through a pile of credit cards. He had to be calm and cooperative if there was any chance of Erika coming out of the bathroom unharmed.

'Calm and Cooperative,' had been the motto for the Weston Day School Kidnap Preparation course and he still remembered it because, at eight years old, he'd been absolutely terrified of getting kidnapped.

'Kidnappers tend to go for the most wealthy,' the pleasant-sounding teacher clad in her usual knockoff tweed Gucci skirt had said and of course, Damon knew the Felixs had to be a target. Matthew had hit top ten on Forbes seven times in a row.

Yet now, while currently kidnapped, all he wanted to do was punch someone until the entire situation was nothing but a random dream.

Damon looked around the griby room, trying to find something to distract his anger. However, all there was to zero in on was Kennedy's body, Bryke, or Silk who seemed as if she were stuck in a trance as her wide, almond-shaped eyes rested on her friend.

"They're not gonna get away with this, you know." Damon said quietly. He didn't believe what he was saying and he was pretty sure Silk didn't either but it was all that he could think of, a pep talk with no spirit being told to a dead team.

Silk looked up at him, blinking rapidly as if she'd just been awakened from a dream. Her wrists were adorned with dry blood from the zip ties and she looked disoriented. "We're-we're dead," She replied back emotionlessly. "And since we're dead, you should know I'm not Silk Caldwell."

"What?"

"I'm her twin sister....Cashmere," She explained sheepishly, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm the reason why we're even here. You see, my parents hate me and prefer my sister... and my Uncle hates your Dad so together me and my Uncle came up with a plan to get back at both of you. I was supposed to kidnap you guys and my sister, Silk. That way, your Father would be in our debt for high ransom demands and my sister would be the crazy girl that orchestrated it all. Then my parents would finally love me."

She hung her head slightly. "But it didn't work out that way at all, obviously. This whole thing just blew up in my face...like everything else does in the end."

Damon gaped, taking in her screwed up scenario and then finding the question that was most important to ask. "So...was I seeing your sister or both?"

"The entire time you were with Silk," She replied bashfully. "I was trying to lure her over to East Hampton Military Institute so I could kidnap her but she never showed up...and then I found out that Erika likes me better when I'm Silk so I rolled with that."

They both fell silent for a moment, the sound of Bryke fiddling with one of Damon's Rolex watches filling the stuffy motel air with a pinch of tension. Then Damon pondered what Cashmere had just confessed and realized he really was the worst brother ever to grace the Earth. "Erika's in military school, isn't she?"

Cashmere looked up from her lap with a grimace and nodded.

If Damon could slump even further in his seat, he would. He had always thought Erika was just a raging bitch out to get him, but he never really thought about why. It was easier not to, easier to be the victim, easier to not care, easier to be weak.

Shane should have shot him instead.

Hell, at least then Kennedy would still be alive. She had been the awkward-but-cute-girl that lured him to his kidnapping but she had seemed much more of a decent person than Damon; the asshole rich boy who ran or fought away from his problems.

Damon closed his eyes, trying to escape the motel room and the dead girl in front of him.

It was as if the buried thoughts inside had finally been dug up to the surface, taking domain in his mind and forcing him to realize what he had always dismissed with a tackle on the field or speed limits broken in Bentleys.

He was a horrible person.

He was horribly feeble person.

But there wasn't any champagne to drown it away this time.

At that moment, the door to the bathroom swung open, Shane stepping out into the motel room once more. However, he didn't bring Erika with him.

"Where is my sister?" Damon demanded.

Shane simply rolled his eyes as if he were reassuring a child. "She's getting dressed."

Damon felt something inside of him sink, something much, much worse than losing a game or on the verge of getting his ass handed to him by Matthew. Something had sunk and it actually hurt. "Getting dressed?" He repeated, taking in the phrase and slowly undoing the meaning like an unwanted present - and then he broke. "What the fuck did you do to her? I swear to whatever the hell is up there that if you did-"

Before he could even finish, Bryke had rose from his perch on the bed and punched him square in the jaw, Damon's silver Rolex President watch adding a metal flavor to the harsh jab.

Damon didn't pass out, however. It was just like home and the world spun for a fraction of a second, the floor threatening to come closer until he was lifting his head up again, a familiar taste of blood in his mouth now.

He glared at Bryke who only shrugged. "You're zip tied, dude. Calm down."

Shane sighed. "Bryyyke."

"Oh, right, sorry." In a swift stride, Bryke was behind Cashmere, producing a pair of cable cutters out of his back pocket and freeing her from her zip ties. As he forced her out of her seat, she started to scream.

Damon tried to speak but all he could get out was blood between his teeth, the only words running through his head pleas and pathetic begging. He hated being so...useless.

"We're not going to hurt you," Shane yelled ever so calmly over Cashmere's frantic cries, an irritated look on his pale features. "But if you keep screaming like that, we'll have to put you down."

As if a switch had been flipped, she immediately fell silent, dry tears freezing mid-drip down her cheeks.

Bryke practically tossed Cashmere to Shane who caught her before she could go flying into the faded yellow-floral walls before turning to Damon, clipping the air with his cable cutters and then taking them to Damon's zip ties.

As soon as both hands were free, Damon made his move - only to realize Shane was already two steps ahead of him, a gun pointed at his temple from across the room before he could even ball his hands into fists.

"There won't be any of that hero shit today." The bald peasant said monotonously, keeping the gun on Damon as he inched towards the bathroom and finally yanked Erika into the bedroom.

She was no longer clad in her bulky camouflage suit, having swapped the attire for a floral Acne Studios long-sleeved t-shirt, Faith Connexion jean cargo pants and the same dirty, black boots she'd arrived in. Her auburn hair was slightly brushed and washed, erasing the look of what she truly was now; a captive - which is exactly what Shane and Bryke probably wanted.

But even if Erika was just getting changed, why did it take an hour? The question brought a wash of vexation over Damon, one that only lessened underneath the barrel of Shane's gun.

Cashmere gasped. "Those are my clothes..."

"Don't worry, you'll get them back if you live," Shane replied. "We just can't afford for you all to be walking around looking like third-world survivors - Bryke, wipe the blood off that kid."

Wordlessly, Bryke swiped tissue from the grainy green box sitting on the TV stand and without asking, wiped furiously at Damon's nose until red stickiness adorned the white matter.

With that, Shane and Bryke ushered their three captives towards the door, Shane's gun poking into Damon's back.

"Where are we going?" Cashmere asked, voice trembling with terror.

Shane only gave her a mere glance. "We're off to see if your parents are ready to pay up."

ⓁⓊⓍⓊⓇⓎ

Shane and Bryke forced them all into Cashmere's Ferrari; Shane driving, Bryke in the passenger seat, and their captives in the back. They turned on the expensive radio, blasting Rihanna's 'Bitch Better Have My Money,' at such a high volume that Damon could feel the beat in his chest and to Cashmere's dismay, Bryke sifted through her glove compartment full of anime DVDs and candy until he snatched the last Snickers Almond bar. She recoiled into silent whimpers as she looked down at her lap.

Damon glanced at Erika sitting beside him. However, she was looking out the window with a faraway expression that made Damon feel sick. What had happened in the bathroom?

And how was he even supposed to comfort someone after something like that?

As the Ferrari turned, sending all three of them falling over to the right, Erika finally acknowledged Damon again, her eyes flicking back and forth between he and Shane before she spoke.

"I'm-I'm glad you're okay," she said, her voice only faintly heard over the ear deafening track.

Damon gawked. The phrase sounded so foreign on Erika Felix's tongue, the one person he used to be able to depend on to tell him what an awful waste of life he was. She was the girl who'd openly wished he'd stopped existing.

She pursed her lips and lowered her head. "I-I just want you to know that in case we-"

"We will," Damon interjected, managing to find his voice. "We have Dad, remember?" Surely, Matthew Felix wouldn't leave them in the clutches of kidnappers. It wouldn't look good for his image and if there was anything Mr. Felix loved more than his wealth, it was his reputation.

Damon liked to think there was a part of Matthew that loved his children. What else could explain all the good games of Basketball in the broad backyard? Or all the good conversations full of advice for the ages? Or the shitload of millions they got each month as a simple allowance? Matthew wasn't the most calm father, but Damon believed he had to care somewhat, at least enough to rescue his children from kidnappers.

However, by the falling expression Erika's already withering face, Damon realized that there was a chance he had Matthew...but she didn't - and he hadn't care about such a fact before. Maybe inside, he'd even prided himself on the fact.

But now he hesitantly reached over and squeezed his sister's hand - that was awfully cold and bony - and said below the booming music, "I'll get us out of this, Erika. I'm going to get us out of this and as soon as we get home, we're going to make Dad listen. It's fucked up what he did, sending you away to military school, pushing you out of everything. We're not going to take any of it anymore. You have me."

'And I'm sorry, you didn't have me before,' he wanted to say but it was lodged in his throat like a ball trapped in a net. He felt a shiver down his spine as he said it, but not from the harsh winds dancing past them as the Ferrari speeded down country roads, but from the fact he actually meant it.

Erika froze, seemingly gaping and then a tear trickled over the brims of her hazel eyes and she squeezed his hand back.

Maybe defeating the wicked queen hadn't been the answer after all, maybe the answer all along had been pulling the wicked queen close and promising to protect her at all cost.

ⓁⓊⓍⓊⓇⓎ

Damon knew wherever they were, it certainly wasn't Las Vegas or Beverly Hills. The air was too heavy with the smell of pesticides and cow poo and every location was secluded, surrounded by thick greenery and endless fields and pastures. Even the gas station in which the bright red Ferrari - that stuck out amidst the few pickup trucks that all looked as if they had been in horrible accidents - looked like a deserted wasteland, bordered by fields in which farm animals could be seen feeding upon the cut grass in the distance.

The gas station wasn't like the upscale station that was frequently visited by billionaires and prep school kids fueling luxury cars in Beverly Hills. It was small and boxy, only two gas pumps ready for service and the food mart was merely the size of one compartment of Damon's spacious closet.

Damon strained to see through the windows of the food mart, only able to catch a girl in a Forever 21 crop top at the cash register and three backpackers browsing through varieties of Hot Cheetos.

Shane parked the Ferrari next to one of the gas pumps, finally turning down the music and acknowledging his captives once more. "Now," He started, clasping his hands together on the top of his leather seat. "There's one ATM in that gas station. When you get out of the car, Bryke will escort you to that ATM and you will withdraw each and every dollar from your credit cards-"

"And if we don't?" Damon countered. He felt Erika flinch.

Bryke made a harsh coughing sound and dug in his pockets before flashing the barrel of a handgun just enough to be seen but not exposed. "Everyone in that gas station, including you, will die."

Cashmere gasped and Damon bit his tongue, the image of Kennedy sprawled out on the floor of that disgusting motel dancing into his mind.

Shane cleared his throat. "As I was saying, once you withdraw money from the ATM. Bryke will guide you to the telephone booth and you will call your parents and inform them of your kidnapping and the ransom price. If you speak too freely, don't for a second think Bryke won't shoot you. He will. So if you don't want to die, stick to the program."

"Uh...what's the ransom price?" Cashmere asked, her voice hoarse and shaky as she raised a trembling hand as if she were in class.

Shane turned his cold glare on the frightened girl. "20 million dollars each that must be paid by 8 pm," Then he turned to Damon and Erika. "I'm sure your father won't have a problem paying 40 million."

Damon felt Erika's heavy, doubtful grimace on him but he stared directly at Shane, almost daring him to bet on such an idea.

Surprisingly, Shane was the first to break the glare down. "Now, any volunteers to go first?" He asked pleasantly, grey eyes scouring over the three startled rich kids in the backseat. His eyes turned into slits when they rested on Cashmere again. "I guess we'll start with you."

"Why me?" She squealed, hands violently trembling as she lifted them up to her lips.

Shane didn't answer, making a quick gesture to Bryke who groaned and practically hopped out, pulling open the passenger seat door and yanking Cashmere out of the expensive car. He caught her before she could stumble to the hard, gravelly ground and pulled her close to him by the feathery ends of her Burberry scarf. "If anyone asks, I'm your boyfriend," He hissed before pulling her towards the glass food mart. She shot the Ferrari a wavering, frightened look that twisted Damon's insides as they went.

Wordlessly, they all watched from the Ferrari as the pair entered the crammy Food Mart, Bryke's hand slipping from Cashmere's scarf down to her manicured hand and swinging it amiably as if they were simply a couple taking a break from the road. The cashier didn't look up as they sauntered over to the ATM, eyes glued to the iPhone 5 in her hands and only one backpacker stopped to check Cashmere out before arguing over snacks once more.

As Cashmere stepped up to the ATM and shakily began to pull out gold and silver credit cards, Bryke's hand slipped to the small of her back while the other attached to his back pocket where his precious gun was kept - and then Cashmere was suddenly handing stacks and stacks of hundred dollar bills to Bryke who stuffed it in the large maroon travelling bag hiked on his shoulder.

They did this quickly before Bryke gently guided Cashmere to the telephone booth near the snacks aisle.

Damon heard Erika exhale as Cashmere hesitantly picked up the phone, shooting conspicuous looks around the Food Mart before starting to speak and within minutes of the call, Cashmere was immediately sobbing uncontrollably, thin frame shaking and Bryke put a reassuring arm around her.

"Dammit, don't tell me they said, 'No,'" Shane muttered, shaking his head disappointingly.

"What...what happens if our parents refuse to pay the ransom?" Erika asked suddenly, shooting Damon a withering glance. He squeezed her hand again, as if such a silly gesture could erase the doubt, but Erika wasn't looking to him. She was looking for the definite answer, staring directly at Shane.

Damon realized he needed to know too. Not because Matthew would refuse him, he was the Golden Boy, the heir to the Felix throne. But he'd rather take a bullet to the head if that meant Erika would be left with Shane and Bryke.

Shane simply shrugged his shoulders. "Then you die, there'd be no use for you anymore."

At that moment, the doors to the Food Mart swung open with a loud ding! signaling Bryke and Cashmere's exit. Bryke was practically dragging the poor girl back to the Ferrari, dried tears on her cheeks that sent a shiver down Damon's spine. He barely knew Cashmere, but he wasn't sure if he could stomach someone else being shot down like they were nothing, being shot down as soon as they "weren't of use anymore."

In fact, Damon wasn't sure if he could stomach life anymore.

"So?" Shane pressed expectantly as Bryke shoved Cashmere back in the back seat beside Damon.

He froze midway into returning to the passenger seat, his expressionless face stopping the hearts of his rich captives - and then he broke into a grin, sticking out his tongue as if he were a peasant who'd just gotten away with discount murder. "25 million is the deal. They pick her up at dawn."

Cashmere started to cry, burying her head of coily curls into her hands and sinking into the fetal position. Damon wanted to comfort her but his hands were glued to Erika's. Erika, who seemed more in shock than anything else, an odd look that he'd only seen before at the auction.

Bryke frowned. "Why the hell are you crying? You're getting out of here, princess!"

"I-I-I," Cashmere stuttered but could only form more sobs.

Damon felt a hand tear away from Erika - just one - and travel over to Cashmere's back. He leaned down with her as she slumped over because he could only imagine what it felt like doing this all alone. "It's okay now, someone's coming to get you." He managed.

However, Cashmere looked up at him with teary brown eyes and cried hushly, "They're only coming because they think I'm her, they think I'm Silk. They wouldn't care if they knew it was me..."

They both jumped at the sound of a door slamming, Shane storming over to their side of the car. "Get out, Felixs, it's time for your episode."

"Ugh, I have to go again?" Bryke complained but Shane held up a hand.

"No, it's best if I go for these two."

ⓁⓊⓍⓊⓇⓎ

If that dawning feeling hadn't been settling in the air before, it was definitely making a home now. The feeling that Damon had been constantly trying to keep at bay since he realized this wasn't a sick joke by the Wicked Bitch of Beverly Hills; fear.

He couldn't deny it anymore. This wasn't a Lacrosse game where fear was nerves that needed a little kick from Adderall or some other expensive cheat. This wasn't the adrenaline hype he got from the anticipation of his father's fist to the face. And it wasn't the rollercoaster of turmoil feeling he had when Jac suddenly became the most fucked up person in the world.

This was real fear, fear that wouldn't go away with a drink or a drug or "sucking it up".

He couldn't control any of this. Shane wasn't Chris Edwards, or Matthew, or Jac. Shane had killed people. So what was going to happen if Matthew refused to pay for Erika's ransom? Because Damon certainly couldn't watch her get shot!

"We're friends on a road trip," Shane whispered as they etched their way to the automatic glass doors of the Food Mart, reminding Damon vaguely of all the hushed excuses his father conjured for the endless bruises. And just like every punch, every jab, and every bruise, Damon felt out of control. Weak. How could he take control of all of this and stop being so fucking weak?

The doors dinged! as they entered, the cashier still absorbed by the bright screen of her phone.

Shane nudged them towards the ATM, stopping casually near the Candy aisle to grab a Snickers, before joining them. "Who will do the honors?" He asked with a tired sigh and just as Erika moved to step forward, Damon stepped in front of her, taking the Henri Bendel wallet from her still hands.

Shane moved to stand next to Erika, snatching her hand from her side to intertwine with his. She flinched and bit her bottom lip.

Damon felt his own free hand ball into fists. 'Calm and cooperative, stay calm and cooperative.'

He repeated the thought over and over again in his head as he stepped up to the ATM, hurriedly pulling out card after card until they were stabbing into his palm. And just as he began to slip his beloved gold American Express card into the waiting slot, he stole a look back at Shane and Erika, finally noticing the pocket knife that was pressing into Erika's hand interlocked with Shane's.

Shane only pressed further until Erika was drawing blood underneath Damon's glower. Erika's eyes seemed to glass over.

Sucking in an angry breath, Damon turned back to the ATM. 'Calm and cooperative, stay calm and cooperative,' He urged himself, his conflicted expression caught by the lens of a miniature camera lodged at the top of the booth.

He gritted his teeth, trying to come up with some sort of secret message to convey in case they all died and police were to rack through tapes later but of course, he came up with nothing.

So reluctantly, he withdrew from his father's credit cards, quickly stuffing the money in the blue duffel bag Shane had in his free hand.

Damon couldn't even pay attention to the amount he was taking out, although it must have been a lot as the ATM kept spitting out hundreds until the maximum for withdrawal was reached, forbidding him from emptying the credit card completely.

Shane didn't say a word as he zipped up the now heavy bag, only nodding his head towards the telephone booth.

Damon didn't force himself to breathe until Shane had slipped his pocket knife into the bag full of hundreds, Erika tucking her hand into her sweater before drops of blood could adorn the glossy, dirty white floor.

They passed the backpackers as they walked, just hearing the continuation of their bickering.

"Fine, we'll get Doritos because hot chips make me shit buckets."

"But Doritos are boring!"

"Not as boring as your damn Harambe memes now shut the fuck up, Lice baby!"

For a moment, Damon found himself lost in a daydream of goofing off like the jerk he was with all his Lacrosse buddies but Shane ripped him out of such a memory with his harsh, bland voice. "Who's calling home?" He demanded lowly.

Damon looked to Erika just as her eyes hurried over to him. However, she didn't look scared. In fact, she was probably taking this much more calmly than Damon was. There was a knowing look in her hazel eyes, a look that said, 'You know who needs to do it.'

"I'll do it." Damon volunteered again, stepping wearily into the metal telephone booth. He nearly jumped out of his skin as Shane closed it behind him.

'Felix men aren't weak,' he reminded himself and with that, he quickly picked up the phone, slipped in 25 cents, and dialed his father's office number to Felix Co. It was a Thursday after all which meant Matthew Felix wouldn't be home at the elaborate estate in Beverly Hills.

As the phone rang ever so patiently, he couldn't help but glance back at Shane and Erika, breath hitching as Shane threatened Erika's bloody palm with his pocket knife again.

He quickly turned back around, fist shaking and breath quickening. He wasn't angry anymore. He was just scared.

He couldn't control any of this.

What if Erika was right?

Although every bone in his body was screaming that she wasn't. It was a given Matthew would agree to his ransom so surely Erika was apart of the package. No matter how much he seemed to hate his daughter, Damon couldn't believe that he'd leave her in the hands of criminal peasants.

He wasn't that evil.

He wasn't that bad.

He was their father.

They were both getting out of this.

'But what if he-'

"This is Mr. Felix's office. How may I help you?" A kind voice answered on the other end, grounding Damon back into the stuffy booth.

He took a deep breath. "Who-who is this?"

"Anastasia Hawthorne, Mr. Felix's assistant. Do you have a scheduled appointment?"

'Since when did he get an assistant?'

"Sir?"

"Uh, no, but I'm his son," He replied hurriedly. "And I really need to talk to him."

"Oh! Well, he's in a meeting right now but-"

"It's urgent, please!" He practically shouted, hating his voice, hating what it gave away, hating what it must sound like.

There was hesitation on the other end before the assistant sighed. "Okay, I'll transfer you over."

He snuck a glance back at Erika whose eyes were on the backpackers still arguing over chips whilst Shane stared at him unapologetically, tapping his foot as if he were an impatient parent waiting for his child in the bathroom.

Damon tried to imagine it. He tried to imagine Shane pulling out his gun, the gun that had killed Kennedy, and shooting everyone in the Food Mart; the cashier texting away on her iPhone, the backpackers insulting each other with silly phrases...Erika.

"What now, Damon?" Matthew Felix's stern voice answered through the phone, the 'what now,' drawn out with a sigh.

Damon had to get familiar with this tone again. "Dad...I need your help." He forced out, brushing off the far too similar moments of calling his Dad from a police station.

The doors to the Food Mart dinged! as a mother and her child skipped inside, making a beeline for the Candy aisle.

There was a sound of rustling papers on the other end and another sigh, this one more frustrated. "What did you do this time, Damon? I didn't put you in a detention center for you to keep fucking up. I put you there to make you a humble-"

"I-I'm not in Juvie, Dad."

Abrupt silence rang in Damon's ears.

The doors to the Food Mart dinged! once more as two girls roleplaying medieval characters waltzed inside, laughing hysterically. The backpackers stopped arguing to point out the girls' outfits.

"What do you mean you're. Not. In. Juvie?" Matthew snapped ever so patiently, his voice levelling the angered man behind it.

Damon swallowed back the automatic weakling excuses at the tip of his tongue. He couldn't afford to be weak, especially not right now. The Food Mart kept filling up!

"Dad, that really doesn't matter right now. Me and-"

"Don't give me that ridiculous justification, Damon. Why are you not where you're supposed to be? " Another shuffling of papers, although this time it sounded as if packets were falling to the floor. "Dammit, Ana, pick this up for me!"

"Dad, just ignore the Juvie thing for a moment-" Damon pleaded but Matthew only continued to cut him off.

"I have tried and tried with you, Damon," He remarked harshly. "I see potential with you but I cannot continue to take it out of the trash when you try to throw it away-"

"Dad, this isn't about me!"

"You've left the facility I sent you to to teach you a lesson-"

"Will you shut the fuck up and listen?" Damon found himself shouting, which startled himself so much that he felt like he was jumping out of his skin. It was like hitting his father back, like stepping out of a zone that was much more comfortable. But unlike the time at the auction, he didn't feel bad for "hitting" his father.

"Pay attention, Matthew, because I'm about to tell you something important," He continued, barely breathing but finally taking control. "Erika and I have been kidnapped. I can't tell you the details and I can't catch you up on how this even happened because the guy is going to kill everyone in this room if I do. But he's asking for 40 million deposited in my AmEx card by tonight at 8 o'clock or you'll never see us again."

It was his turn to sigh now. "Did. You. Get. That?"

Matthew didn't answer, the phone falling deathly silent.

Damon's dead heartbeat shifted back into quickened breaths.

The backpackers finally settled on two bags of Doritos and Hot Cheetos before hurrying to the line.

The mother and child picked up a bag of unwrapped Snickers bites.

The girls dressed in medieval, ornate dresses giggled near the Arizona cans.

The cashier begrudgingly looked up from her phone as the backpackers tossed their bags onto the counter.

Shane started to stab a frozen Erika again.

Damon started to sweat, a new idea he'd never considered before sneaking into his mind. An idea that made him want to sink into the floor of the telephone booth. He tried not to give into it.

"Dad?"

"You will never talk to me like that again." Matthew replied ever so hastily, as if he had been fighting to let it go.

"I-I'm sorry, I just-"

"Yes, son, you will be sorry because I'm not paying either of your ransoms. The answer is no." With that, the line went dead, nothing but the deafening echo of Matthew's exit ringing in Damon's ears.

-------------------------

A/N: Welp, this was a really long chapter that literally took me about a month to finish! This is also the second-to-last chapter of LUXURY and the last POV from Damon. The final POV is Jac's and the book will be finished! So expect the last chapter by the end of December because 2016 has been a major bitch to me and has literally been about "realizing things - Kylie Jenner, 2015".

Thank you to all who read and leave funny inline comments that I sometimes don't reply to because I am dead from laughter. Thoughts are very welcome >.<