Ruin: Levi Hunter's Story (Black Hearts Still Beat Book 4) Read online

  Ruin

  A Black Hearts Still Beat Story

  L A Cotton

  Published by Delesty Books

  RUIN

  eBook Edition

  Copyright © L A Cotton 2020

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  Edited by Andie M Long Editing Services

  Cover by Lianne Cotton

  Images licensed from Adobe Stock and Shutterstock

  Contents

  Untitled

  Prologue

  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

  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

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Black Hearts Still Beat

  Eva & Rafe’s Trilogy

  Rush

  Rise

  Rule

  Black Heart Still Beats Stories

  Ruin

  Her banshee-like screams filled the house. I crouched down against the wall, pressing my hands to my ears, trying to block it out.

  It never worked though.

  Once my mom got into one of her fits, she wouldn’t stop until she was passed out from drinking a bottle of vodka. Sometimes, I thought about lacing her tea with the damn stuff. At least then she’d pass out quicker and I wouldn’t have to listen to…

  “Where the fuck are you, you disgusting little—”

  “Levi, I’m scared.” My baby brother Rafe crawled into the gap between the closet and the wall and snuggled into my side.

  “S’okay, Rafe, she’s just in one of her moods again.”

  “Why does she hate you so much?” He stared up at me with his big gray eyes, and my insides twisted up.

  Mom did hate me.

  Made sure to tell me every day of my life.

  I was almost nine, so there had been a lot of days.

  A loud crash followed by the sound of glass shattering echoed through the house, and Rafe whimpered, pressing further into my side. Slipping my arm around his shoulders, I hugged him tighter. “Try and block it out,” I whispered. “Try and think happy thoughts.”

  “Sing to me,” he croaked.

  “Rafe, buddy, come on…”

  “LEVIATHAN!” she shrieked, making us both flinch.

  “Please, Levi.” He tugged the hem of my t-shirt. “I like it when you sing.”

  He might have, but our mom sure didn’t. She’d washed my mouth out with soap twice last month when she caught me humming a tune in the shower. I’d puked for three hours straight.

  “You know I can’t,” I sighed, dropping my head back against the wall, the words cutting me up inside.

  “Please…”

  “Okay, buddy, but I have to keep it quiet.” I couldn’t tell him no. No kid should have to witness the things he did, to hear the vile and twisted things she said. It was different for me, I’d always been the subject of her hatred. But not Rafe. He was her favorite. Her sweet and gentle Raphael.

  “Sing the one about the rainbows,” he whispered, “I love that one.”

  I inhaled a sharp breath, letting it fill my lungs. If she heard me, it wouldn’t end well for me, it never did. But I couldn’t deny my little brother. And singing…

  Well singing made all the bad things disappear.

  Levi

  BLACK HEARTS STILL BEAT POSTPONE TOUR AMID SEX TAPE SCANDAL.

  TEN DAYS AFTER THE TAPE WAS LEAKED, THERE HAS BEEN ONLY ONE STATEMENT FROM THE BAND’S LABEL, RAZORSHARP RECORDS.

  BUT THE REAL QUESTION ON EVERYONE’S LIPS IS: WHERE IS LEVI HUNTER?

  I threw my phone down on the coffee table and ran a hand over my head, feeling anger ripple up my spine.

  Ten days.

  Ten fucking days since my life blew up in front of my eyes, and the press were still chomping at the bit. They were like sharks circling, waiting for the first scent of blood.

  I’d fucked up.

  The grainy video of me snorting a line of coke off Riley’s stomach was evidence enough.

  Conniving fucking bitch.

  The band’s ex-assistant—she had been fired when it came out that she was leaking private information about us to the press. What nobody realized at the time though was she had an ace card up her sleeve.

  An ace card I’d forgotten all about because I’d been off my face on a lethal concoction of liquor and drugs. She’d set me up and like the reckless fucking idiot I was, I’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

  “Motherfucker,” I yelled, kicking the table. My boot collided with the wood, sending the thing toppling over. Pain ricocheted through my big toe and shot up my foot, but I barely flinched. The anger in my veins doused some of the other shit running through my head, but it wasn’t enough. My blood craved something else.

  Something stronger.

  Hunger pulsed through me, my skin itching for a hit. Coke. Crack. Molly. I didn’t discriminate. Right now, given half a chance, I’d snort, smoke, or swallow anything I could get my hands on...

  Except, the label had me on house arrest like I was a fucking toddler in timeout.

  Johnson, my bodyguard stood guard at the door, watching me like a hawk, with another two guys out in the hall.

  Alistair, the band’s manager, said it was for my own good. I called it some kind of mental torture. I’d been cooped up here, in an apartment on the edge of the city, for almost ten days.

  After the story broke, everyone expected me to explode. To plummet headfirst over the thin ledge of control I walked every day of my existence. They expected me to reach for the bottle or slip our security detail and go hunt down a dealer to score whatever drugs I could get my hands on.

  I’d surprised them—and myself—when I’d done neither of those things. Instead, I’d punched the wall, split my knuckles wide open in the process, and then shut down. But as the pain subsided, the urges stirred to life. So I was shipped here, and told to stay put until the label could figure out what to do about Riley.

  My patience was wearing thin though. If they didn’t let me out soon, I’d be forced to take matters into my own hands. Because I needed to do something.

  For a guy like me, carrying the kinds of demons that haunted me, sitting around was like a fucking death sentence. Being on alone with my thoughts wasn’t therapy, it was my own personal version of hell.

  Too much time to think.

  Too much t
ime to reflect and dwell.

  Too much fucking time to remember.

  My mind was a dark place to be at the best of times, but after almost two weeks of being locked down in this apartment, my thoughts were borderline morbid.

  The blare of my cell phone cut through the unrelenting silence. I snatched it up and barked, “About fucking time.”

  “How are you?” My brother’s voice filled the line.

  “How do you think? I’ve been locked away here—”

  “It’s just until Ali and the label deal with Riley.”

  I sneered. “Because I’m a liability, you mean.”

  “Levi,” Rafe sighed. “The whole world saw you snort coke off her body. The video went viral—”

  “Don’t fucking remind me.” I sank back against the couch and let out a frustrated breath.

  “I didn’t know she would do that.”

  “Yeah, well it’s done now.” His voice was thin. And I hated it. Hated that yet again, I’d disappointed my little brother. But it was the story of my life. Rafe was the good one, the righteous one. And I was the thorn in his side. The devil on his shoulder.

  “We need to look forward.”

  Forward... yeah, right.

  This was just another black mark against my name. I was already on shaky grounds with the label. But what did they expect signing on someone like me?

  Someone with a heart as black as the night and a soul full of torment and nightmares.

  I was the label’s poster boy for a reason. And it wasn’t for my squeaky-clean reputation and charity work.

  But where they needed me and the band to make them their millions, I needed them to allow me to keep performing. It gave me an outlet, a way to channel all my anger, the pain festering inside me. It was cathartic; for those few minutes while the beat thrummed through me and I lost myself in the lyrics, I was free.

  It made sense. I was an addict, after all. I craved the high, the rush of endorphins and adrenaline. And there was no better feeling than performing to a sold-out arena of tens of thousands of screaming fans.

  Now I had nothing.

  No music.

  No liquor or drugs.

  I was in withdrawal from everything good in my life, and it fucking sucked.

  “Forward?” I snapped, feeling irritation roll up my spine. “What I need is to get out of this fucking cell.”

  “Levi, it’s the penthouse suite in The Louisville Regency. It’s hardly a prison.”

  “Do you know what, brother? Go fuck yourself.”

  He let out a sharp hiss but didn’t respond, choosing to change the subject. “Eva wants to come out and see you.”

  “No.”

  I didn’t want her here.

  I didn’t want her anywhere near me.

  Eva Walker, my brother’s girlfriend, was a sweet little thing. She’d been signed on to tour with us as our opening act, and somehow managed to worm her way under my skin. But she was Rafe’s.

  “I told her as much,” Rafe sighed, “but you know Eva.”

  Yeah, I did. Which is exactly why I didn’t want her anywhere near me right now. I couldn’t be trusted. Not while I was itching for something—anything—to take my mind off of the shitshow that was my life.

  A knock sounded at the door and I glanced back at Johnson. He frowned and turned to answer it. “Levi,” he shouted. “You have a visitor.”

  Realization slammed into me and anger exploded in my veins. “What the fuck did you do, Rafe?”

  “I told her not to come.” He didn’t sound pleased. “But she insisted...”

  “You’re her fucking man. You should have—"

  “What? I should have what?”

  “Whatever. I’ll tell Johnson to send her away. Next time she wants to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong, try fucking harder, brother.” I hung up, bolting from the couch and storming over to the door.

  “Levi, thank God.” Eva smiled, relief glittering in her gaze.

  “You should go,” I said, the words rough against my throat.

  “G- go? But I came to—”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t need another fucking babysitter, not when I already have Johnson.”

  He didn’t flinch. Staunch motherfucker.

  “Levi, please...” Eva’s expression softened as she stared at me with her big blue eyes. “I just want to talk.”

  Talk.

  Because talking solved everything.

  “Go away, Eva. You can’t fix this.” You can’t fix me.

  Once upon a time, when she’d first joined the tour, I’d thought that maybe she could. That maybe she could fill some of the darkness in my heart with her light. But I’d quickly realized that she wasn’t meant for me.

  She was too good, too pure for the likes of Leviathan Hunter.

  Eva was the sun, and I was a giant black hole, sucking everything good into oblivion.

  I turned my back on her and stalked into the bathroom, stripping out of what little clothes I had on. I couldn’t drown myself in liquor or numb the pain with a synthetic high, but I could stand under the hot shower jets and try and burn away my sins.

  When the water began to run cold, I finally dragged myself out. My skin was shriveled, red and sore, but I welcomed the burn.

  Wrapping a big fluffy towel around my waist, I padded out of the bathroom, stopping dead in my tracks at the sight of Eva sitting in one of the chairs.

  Her head whipped up. “You’re okay.”

  My brow arched.

  “I knocked, twice... but you didn’t...”

  “I was taking a shower.”

  “I figured.” Pity glittered in her eyes.

  “I told you to go.”

  “Levi, please...”

  “What, Angel?” I drawled her nickname. “Come to save my soul? You might as well save your breath.”

  “We need to talk about this.” She shot up, glaring at me defiantly.

  “No, we really don’t.”

  “Riley set you up, she betrayed you, all of you. And now... Phoebe.”

  “Don’t.” It came out harsh as my eyes shuttered at the mention of her name.

  Phoebe Halstead.

  Riley’s replacement.

  The second girl to get under my skin.

  For a second, I’d thought she was the one. The girl who could handle my demons and keep them at bay.

  I was wrong.

  The second the story broke, I saw the look in her eyes.

  Disappointment...

  Regret...

  Disgust.

  I hadn’t spoken to her since.

  It had been foolish to think that someone could ever look past the darkness surrounding me. I was unhinged. Reckless and volatile. I was a sinking ship slowly drowning in angry seas.

  I didn’t blame her for wanting to get as far away from me as possible.

  I blamed myself.

  But no one knew what it was like to walk in my shoes, to be so worshipped and adored and feel nothing but gaping emptiness. The fans, the shows, the tour, the number one hits, it was everything... and yet, it was nothing.

  Talk about fucked up.

  I had it all. Money, fame, and power. A string of fangirls all looking to ride the Levi Hunter happy train. I wanted for nothing.

  Except the one thing that nobody could give me.

  “How have you been?” Eva changed the subject.

  “That’s a loaded fucking question, Angel, and you know it.”

  She didn’t want to hear how I’d sweated in bed every night, curling my fists into the sheets, fighting the urge to escape my prison and go score off some back-alley dealer.

  “I know it isn’t ideal—”

  “Ideal?” I balked. “I think rehab was better than... than this.” And rehab had been a fucking nightmare.

  “The label just wants to get a handle on everything. Figure out a way forward.”

  “You mean they want to make sure I don’t spiral and end up back in rehab.”

 
She let out a small sigh. “We’re all worried.” Her eyes drilled holes into the top of my head as I looked down at the floor. She meant well; Eva always did. But I wasn’t in the mood to be coddled. Least of all, by my brother’s girl.

  “Rafe is—”

  “Save it,” I groaned. “He doesn’t get it. No one does.”

  The self-hatred.

  The loathing.

  Riley might have set me up, but I’d played right into her hands. I’d wanted to forget. I’d wanted to get off my fucking face and forget everything.

  Me.

  But I couldn’t stop.

  Even now, after everything, I knew if Eva offered me a bump of coke, or a little white pill, or a syringe full of crack, I’d take it. Because feeling something, even for a second, was better than constantly feeling nothing.

  “This will all be over soon, and then we can get back to the tour.”

  “And then what? We go on as one big happy family?” I sneered. “Pretending I didn’t screw up again?”

  “I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but the guys understand—”

  “Understand what? That I snorted coke off Riley’s body and then fucked her until I passed out?”

  Eva blanched but I was too worked up to care. This wasn’t some game, it was my life.

  My fucking disaster of a life.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” I added when she didn’t reply. “We can all pretend, go back to normal again, but we all know, everyone will just be waiting for me to screw up again.”