The Next Chapter: Twisted Series Next Generation

Chapter 15: Anastasia Larsen

My mind grew weary, on the verge of conking out but the stench of his cigarette smoke kept my eyes stitched wide open.

Digging my nails into the comforter as I shot up on the couch and resisted the urge to press the butt to his neck. "Do you have too?" I shot back bitterly, my expression contorting into one that could resemble a cartoon bull.

Callum kept his gaze glued to the window, the half burnt cigarette was perched between his two fingers. Taking a drag as he swiveled his head back into my direction, purposefully blowing the smoke towards me as a smug smile tilted his lips.

My nails rubbed against the soft blanket as I inhaled a sharp breath and narrowed my gaze further at him.

Which only invoked a wider smile, even with a busted lip he stands there tall as if everything else was dust underneath his shoes.

I wince at the sight of his lip, Jeremy has such a horrifying swing that I can not help shudder if I stare at it too long. "Ouch." I murmur out, running my finger over my own bottom lip.

His smile slowly disperses and he takes another drag, blowing the smoke out of the window, "It looks worse than it is." Murmuring out with a defensive edge. "If it bothers you then don't look."

Brushing the large blanket off of me, hoisting myself up as I walked in his direction. Gathering my hair and pulling it behind my shoulders, "Are you going to tell me?" I sighed out more dramatically than I intended.

Raking a hand through his unkempt hair as the cigarette dangled between his lips, "You aren't the talkative type." He breathes out.

"I have to say." I trail off while rolling my tank down, "You astonish me every time."

"Granted."

Resisting the urge to roll my eyes back to the point where I can see my brain, my leer lingers towards him as I lift myself up onto the sill. Dangling one leg out of the window as the cool breeze kisses my nose. "Why'd you provoke him?" I breathe out with a softer, more concerned edge.

Only granting me with a shrug as he stubs the cigarette out on the wall, leaving a mark which does not bother him in the slightest as much as it would bother his sister. "Why did you scream at Imp?" Nonchalantly responding while stretching his arms above his head.

My throat restricts, resisting the urge to stitch my lips shut or even toss myself out of the window. An exasperated sigh fell from my mouth, "You're not angry at her?"

"She's fifteen. Forgive me if I don't spend my time antagonizing teenagers." He grinned sophisticatedly.

That was a punch to the gut. My relationship with Charlotte was strained to say the least. Her and Camilla have had a much closer relationship than I have with either one of them. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, knowing that my family sees me as a second choice.

The two always gravitated towards mom while my interests aligned more with dads.

As much as I did not want to appear bothered by the notion, bile always traveled up my throat whenever I pondered on it carefully. "I don't antagonize her. She needed to know what she did was wrong. And I know how I reacted was wrong as well so drop it"

Replying with a scoff as he rubbed his nape, "Hypocrite."

It was as if my tongue was swelling, blocking my airway as words became more difficult to formulate.

Silence fell over us for a moment, the tension swallowed me whole as I ran a hand over my face. Resisting the urge to crawl back under my covers, my gaze lifted to his again. "Do my parents know about today's events?"

He looked at me as if I just asked if the sun was hot. "Sofia made sure nobody knows anything." Shooting back to distance any of my strain. "The only people with some information are my parents but they don't know the whole story."

Relief sagged my shoulder. Before suspicion blinded my gaze as the tension blossomed again.

If Uncle Christian learns anything then he for sure will tell my Dad. Bringing my legs up to hug them to my chest, pressing my lips into a straight flat line with a groan. "You never answered my question."

"I thought the topic of conversation was dropped." He retorted back with no amusement.

My nails began to dig into my knees, "Can you just answer my question."

Shaking his head while retreating back onto the mattress, he fell back and let his eyes flutter shut. His arm fell over his eyes as his shirt fell up to reveal the toned muscles behind the fabric.

I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

"Have you told anyone about moving to New York?" He replies back in tranquility.

Muscles stiffen while my lips fell shut. "Camilla knows." I spoke breathlessly.

He scoffed. "Of course she knows, I'm talking about your parents."

My head fell back against the window and keeping composure grew more difficult.

Being queen was never something that ever caught my interest, I always got anxious and boarder lined throwing up whenever I was brought to events where my sisters and I would be the main talk.

It made me uncomfortable, speaking in front of large groups already vexed me enough. I got frazzled easily, making decisions sometimes would seem impossible. It was obvious I would be an awful queen.

There was just one thing in my mind that set back any excitement.

Camilla does not want to be queen either. Although she holds up an impressive facade that pretty much nobody can see through, she wearily confessed to me the reality of her situation.

Because of me and Charlotte, she has to keep tall with the weight of a crown.

The crown was a death wish to me, and Charlotte would not survive a day in the strict mannerisms that comes with being a future queen.

Camilla was groomed for this the moment she was born, despite my parents dismay to the austere expectations. The most Coercion comes from Camilla herself.

As much as running off to New York would be the selfish choice, I needed to get away from this royal life. Telling my parents was the difficult thing, they would begin setting up everything for me and sending bodyguards my way.

I do not want that. I just want to escape it.