by K. V. Rose
But he doesn’t.
He hauls him back over the side, onto his feet. And then he lets go of him, backing away.
Jeremiah puts his hands on his knees and looks up at me, fear in his gaze.
“Leave,” Lucifer orders him. “And never fucking come back.”
For a moment, time stands still. I don’t know what will happen next. I feel sure that if Jeremiah doesn’t leave, Lucifer will kill him. I feel sure I won’t be able to stop him again.
But slowly, my brother straightens. His mouth twists, as if he’s fighting with himself on saying something to me one last time.
“Find out everything you can,” he says softly. “Find Ria.”
And then he limps through the balcony door and walks away, without looking back.
I watch him go.
Chapter Thirty
Present
He leaves. Jeremiah leaves, and the Unsaints that were waiting in the foyer on the main floor let him. He didn’t take anything or anyone with him except his black Mercedes. He left without telling anyone goodbye, even as his men watched him walk away. They already knew. They had known everything was now mine.
That they now serve me.
They’d known, and like before, when they knew Jeremiah’s darkest secret, they hadn’t told me.
Brooklin left too. Mayhem and her exchanged words, but she left. He let her walk out of here. I have no idea where she went. I have no idea if she told her brother where she went. She took a cab from the other side of the gate, and she left.
And I’m leaving, too.
My brother is gone. Whatever he intended me to do in handing the keys to Order of Rain to me, I have no intention of doing it. The Rain mansion can burn for all I care.
I’m packing my bag the next morning, after sleeping in my brother’s room the night before, the liquor and glass still on the floor, when Lucifer comes in.
He had slept next door, in an empty room.
He had tried to hold me, after my brother left. But I wanted to be alone. I needed to be alone. Because what comes next will probably hurt more than anything else has. But I can’t stay. I can’t be with Lucifer. Or the Unsaints, who are still at the hotel.
Lilith and Lucifer are only good at burning things down, not building them anew.
He stands in the doorway, watching me. He’s wearing his fitted black jogging pants, but he doesn’t have a shirt on. I hold his gaze, refusing to look at the scars on his abs, marring his perfect skin. Scars for me. I’d spent so much time hating him, so much time loathing my brother but trusting in him all the same, that I feel shame when I see those scars.
They remind me, too, of what had happened to me.
That I was wrong. Sick. Unlovable.
The year I had worked as an escort, I’d never felt that way. Sex was a transaction. My time was valuable. I was paid for my work. But what my brother did, even if he stopped himself, the lies afterward…that was a transaction of hate, revenge, disgust. It was a transaction that he could never repay me for. Never make up for. And I didn’t want to be with someone who knew that. Someone who knew the darkness in me. The filth.
I zip up my black bag and toss it over my shoulder. I tuck my hands in my hoodie’s pockets and straighten, facing Lucifer.
There’s a lump in my throat. I have no idea what to say, but I know I have to say something. If I don’t get this goodbye right, it will haunt me for the rest of my life. It probably will no matter what I do or don’t say, but I need to say something.
“All this time I wanted to find you…” Lucifer whispers. He leans against the door, as if he can’t stand on his own two feet. “To see if you had survived that night…”
I nod, biting my lip, looking down at the dirty floor between us. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” I am sorry. Even if it was me that had to go through it, I have no memory of it. I wouldn’t forget what Jeremiah had done to me, but at least I didn’t have to relive it over and over. I felt certain Lucifer didn’t get that luxury.
He laughs, a hollow sound. “Don’t apologize to me. Don’t ever apologize to me for that.”
I still can’t meet his gaze, but I feel his eyes on me. I close my own for a moment. When I open them, I try to steel myself. To straighten my spine, to take back the control I haven’t had in so long over my own life.
“I’m leaving.”
His eyes flicker. “Where?”
I don’t know. The train ticket is to New York. I don’t know if I’ll stop there. Although I have no intention of staying in this hotel and running my brother’s company, I’m going to use his money. It’s the least of what he owes me. I can go anywhere I want with that kind of money. I can do anything I want. The world is mine. And I can find out what he meant, about Ria. I’m free.
But it doesn’t feel like it. I don’t feel freedom. I don’t feel the excitement I should, leaving this place behind. I feel nothing but emptiness. Brokenness. I wonder if that feeling will ever leave, or if, eventually, I’ll finish what I started that night Lucifer and Lilith met.
“I don’t know,” I answer him honestly. I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulders. “I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Let me come with you,” he says at once, stepping further in the room. His hands are in his pockets, but I see the muscles in his forearms tense, like he wants to reach for me, but he’s clenching his fists to keep himself from doing it. “We’ll go together. Between us, we have so much fucking money, we don’t need to work or to worry or—”
“No.” I cut him off, even though it hurts. I have to cut him off. “No,” I say again, my voice stronger. “I can’t go with you. You can’t come with me. I need…” I close my eyes, biting back on the tears that threaten to fall.
But I have to get away.
“I’m going alone. Get back to your life, Lucifer. Back to the Unsaints. Now that my brother isn’t competing with you,” I force a smile on my face, “you can expand your empire.”
He doesn’t smile. “That’s not what the Unsaints do. And really, Sid, we can’t let you leave.”
I tense, cross my arms over my chest. “I didn’t ask for your permission.”
Something seems to change in the air between us.
His hands are still in his pockets, and he doesn’t move closer, but something in his demeanor changes. It’s like he’s morphing from broken boy into whatever it is that an Unsaint actually is.
“Lover’s Death is only the least of what we do,” he says, and there is no longer any emotion in his words. “It’s an illusion. It’s a rite. But it really, truly, means nothing. But you…you know things. Jeremiah knew things. And I let him walk out of here, alive, for you.” His eyes narrow.
“I don’t know shit about you and your cult friends,” I say, growing angrier. I shake my head and stuff my hands into my pockets. “What happens next to Jeremiah isn’t my concern.” I make to walk past him.
He grabs my arm. “If you have my kid, you might live.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “I gave you that chance, at least.”
I yank my arm out of his grip. “You’re just as bad as my brother,” I spit at him.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.” He shrugs. “You have no idea how much more the Unsaints can hurt you.”
I step closer to him, rage making my hands shake. “Are you threatening me? After what we went through? You really want to do that right now?”
He smiles. It’s empty. He slips his hands back into his pockets and shakes his head. “It’s like I told you, Lilith. You can run, but you can’t hide.”
I roll my eyes and step around him, heading out of my brother’s room.
“Stay here one night,” he says at my back. “One more night. Just give him enough time to get far away from you. Because if I see him again, Sid, I’ll kill him. You won’t be able to stop me.” His voice hardens. This is Lucifer. An Unsaint.
I brush my bangs out of my eyes, turning his words over. His threats.
I let out a br
eath. “Okay,” I finally say, without looking at him. “But if you try to stop me when I leave, it won’t end well for you, either.” I turn to glance at him.
His full lips curve into a small half smile, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
Despite what I’d said, despite agreeing with him, his eyes are still cold.
Chapter Thirty-One
Present
Nicolas tries to talk to me. Trey tries to talk to me.
I want nothing to do with them. I don’t fire them or send them away, because I’ll be leaving the next day. But I have nothing to say to them. After I left Lucifer on the eighth floor, I went down to my own rooms. They’re clean, and they don’t smell like Jeremiah. They don’t feel like Jeremiah. But the bathroom…I don’t want to go in there.
He had cleaned my foot in there. He had told me he loved me in there.
All the while, he knew.
Kristof has made himself scarce. I don’t know where he is, and I don’t care. If he was smart, he’d leave. But then again, he’d never been very smart.
I force myself to take a shower. I dress in black yoga pants, black tank top, and pull on my black tennis shoes. I put a gun on the holster on my hip, taken from my own closet, and then I make my way down to the gym.
I need to move, but I don’t want to go outside yet. I don’t want to see anyone else in this Godforsaken place.
The gym is empty. I plan on making sure it stays that way, too. If anyone comes in, I’ll threaten to blow their fucking heads off. And if they don’t leave, well…I’m not so sure I won’t actually pull the trigger.
I start on the treadmill, enjoying the sound of my own breathing. I hadn’t brought my phone down, or anything to play music. I just want to drown in myself. My own grief in my head. I need it to consume me, so maybe it will burn through me.
I glance at my reflection in the mirror. I’m pale, shadows beneath grey eyes. My hair is still wet from my shower, my bangs cover my brows. I realize I’ve done this whole workout and shower thing in the wrong order. Fuck it. Everything in my life has gone in the wrong order.
Jeremiah crosses my mind.
I hope he dies from it, the guilt. I hope it eats him alive. I hope it’s his guilt that kills him.
I’m so focused on those thoughts of vengeance, and the flashes of my own guilt that threaten to sneak in under my hate, that I don’t notice two people have come in until they’re right behind me, staring at me in the mirror.
I finish my sprint, locking eyes with Mayhem as I do, glancing once at Atlas. Only after I’m done do I slowly come to a stop. I wipe my wrist over my brow. I’m breathing hard and sweating worse. I turn to glare at them, waiting for them to speak. To tell me why the fuck they’re here. I know they have their own mansions to go to. They can fuck right off. But maybe Lucifer told them my plans.
Hell, maybe they’ve come to kill me.
Atlas has on a backwards cap, dark jeans, a red shirt that stops at his elbows, showing off his muscular forearms. Mayhem is wearing a a tight black shirt and black jeans. His arms are crossed as he stares at me.
I’m thankful I’m still on the treadmill. It doesn’t make me taller than them, but at least I don’t have to look up to meet their eyes.
“You’re leaving.” Mayhem doesn’t phrase it as a question, which is a good sign. But why he gives a fuck is beyond me. Maybe he’s come to threaten me, too.
I don’t bother to say anything. I just keep staring at him, waiting for one of them to get to the point.
He sighs, turns from me and sits on one of the weight benches, facing me again. He has his elbows on his knees, palms rubbing together. He’s looking at the floor, dark brows furrowed.
I glance at Atlas in question. Atlas laughs.
“Hey, this is Mayhem’s mayhem. I’m just here for shits and giggles.” He leans in toward me, lowers his voice conspiratorially. “And to make sure he doesn’t fuck you again.”
Mayhem flicks him off. I roll my eyes.
No one else speaks.
I wait.
“Did you know that Lucifer talked about you every fucking day for a year straight?” Mayhem finally asks. His voice is low, but he doesn’t wait for me to respond. “Every goddamn day. I felt the guilt, of course, because he’d never wanted your brother in the Unsaints. I’d convinced him to let it happen. Convinced him a rich fuck who shot his abusive foster parents needed to be with us.” He meets my gaze again, but his baby blue eyes are hooded. His expression is unreadable. “Your brother was never good at taking ‘no’ for an answer anyway.” He sighs. “He never got the tattoo. At least I can say it didn’t get that far.”
My gut churns. I grip the edge of the treadmill at my side, thinking I might be sick if Mayhem keeps talking. But I still don’t say anything. Atlas wanders off, picking up and setting down various sized weights.
“Me and Lucifer,” he continues, “we’ve known each other since we were kids. We grew up in the same neighborhood, but his life was a little different than mine.” He threads his fingers together, moving his fists up and down. He looks like he’s reflecting on their life together. I know Lucifer probably sent him here. I know I should be angry and tell him to get the fuck away from me. To stop trying to guilt-trip me, or scare me. But I also find myself imagining Lucifer, as a child. I imagine his stepmother’s cruelties. What he must have went through to become what he is. What they all must have gone through, even if they were rich and spoiled.
“My dad is a dick, but Lucifer’s…he was absent. And his stepmother…” He shakes his head, and I watch him swallow. “Well, she wasn’t any better than your brother.” He meets my gaze again.
I feel that wave of nausea all over again.
“His father is in legitimate business. But he didn’t mind throwing Lucifer to the wolves, letting him into the darker side of business. Letting him take the Unsaints from rich kid secret society to corporate crimes for hire. Before that, his father didn’t say a damn thing when Lucifer tried to tell him what his stepmom was doing. No,” Mayhem snorts with disgust. “He told him he was a liar and no wife of his would want to fuck his son, so he could stop trying to get her to.” He licks his lips, glares at me. “And believe me, Sid. The Society of 6 has more power than the Unsaints. His father could have made his stepmom disappear if he’d wanted to.”
I close my eyes for a second, try to fight back against the images Mayhem’s words conjure in my head.
“His mom died when he was little. She’s the one that named him Lucifer.” I blink but say nothing. He laughs. “She was weird, I’ve heard. A good weird. He’d also been close to her, as a kid. She had worshiped him, my own mom said. But she was killed in a car accident, and Lucifer lost the only woman who ever loved him, for good.”
Mayhem is smiling now.
“Obviously, women threw themselves at the dude. I mean…those eyes.” He lifts his brows, laughing. “But he used them, just like they used him. For money. Sex. Status. And then he met you.” His eyes narrow on me, and I feel a flurry in my gut. But it doesn’t feel like sickness anymore. “He met you, and Jeremiah’s true colors came out. He wrecked both of your worlds.”
I finally speak, the words raw in my throat. “I know what happened. I don’t need to hear it again.”
“I think you do,” Mayhem argues. “I think you don’t get it.” I tense, but say nothing. “You think Jeremiah only wronged you?” His voice is cold. “Nah, Angel. This isn’t just your revenge. This is all of ours. He knows too much.” He stands to his feet and walks toward me. He stops, looking down for a second, then he brushes his thumb over his lip and meets my gaze again. “This all might be yours,” he huffs a laugh, shaking his head, “but the secrets your brother has…” His eyes narrow. “They’re ours.” He yanks my arm, pulling me off the treadmill so he’s looking down at me. “Lucifer has always been too soft. But me? I’m not even close. So you might think Jeremiah got away with this, but he didn’t. He’s a liability. And since you’ve spent the past year living
with him, well,” he shrugs, “so are you.”
Atlas whistles, amused, somewhere beyond Mayhem.
Mayhem flashes a cold smile. “Say your goodbyes to your brother’s idiot guards before you leave, Angel. You won’t see them again. And when you get on that train, do some digging. Lucifer’s last name, it’s Malikov.” He leans down until he’s close enough for our breath to mingle. “You see, we needed you to lead us to Jeremiah. Jeremiah to lead us to you. But we don’t really need either of you anymore. So I hope that wherever you go, you’re always looking over your shoulder. Because we’ll always know where you are, Lilith.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Present
I leave that night.
But I don’t get on the train. Instead, I look for Ria. I leave in one of my brother’s black SUVs, and the guards say nothing as I pass through the gates of the hotel. I don’t look for Lucifer, even though a part of me wants to. I don’t say a word to any of the Unsaints about my leaving.
I had tried to leave before, when I’d turned from Lucifer that night a year ago. When I had said fuck this, and left. I’d unwittingly walked right into Jeremiah’s arms then. But I won’t again. I don’t know what happened to Ria that night, hell, I don’t even know what happened to me, but I’m going to find her.
And she’s going to make me understand what the hell is going on in this city.
That night, as I toss and turn in a hotel room across town, after fruitlessly searching for all the Rias that live in this city (there’s hundreds), I see smoke beyond my window. For a second, I wonder if the Unsaints found me that fast. If they followed me here. Or if it’s Jeremiah or one of his men.
I throw off my blankets, snatching up my knife from the nightstand. But I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize the fire is far off. It’s past the city, up on the highest hill in Alexandria.