by Logan Fox
We’d originally planned to kidnap Gabriel. Apollo found an abandoned wood cutter’s hut in the woods—a place straight out of the sixteenth century. We were going to do whatever the fuck it took to retrieve the names of each and every Ghost Gabriel handled, and find out who it was that he reported to. Because we know the Guardian had a superior.
And then we’d kill him.
We’d have done it over summer break, while Saint Amos was closed for repairs. No one would have missed him, and by the time the police were notified, we’d already be away on our killing spree.
The timing was perfect.
Everything had been perfect…until Trinity arrived and put a wrench in the works. That’s what I’d thought, anyway. Now it turns out this unexpected development might work in our favor.
There’d always been a chance Gabriel wouldn’t have handed us the information or that, under torture, he’d give us any bullshit just to make the pain stop.
But since Trinity’s so fucking adamant Gabriel is a true man of God, we’ll make her prove it. And in doing so, she’ll inadvertently get us everything we need.
I park outside a photography store, ducking to look through the window. Then I take a piece of paper out of my pocket and glance at Apollo’s horrific handwriting. I can’t even remember how many cameras I’ve bought him over the years. He’s as clumsy as he is introverted. Today’s shopping run is going to be pricey, but it’ll be worth it. Because one thing is for sure. Once we have the information we need, Gabriel becomes expendable.
My brothers and I agree fully that inflicting even a fraction of the pain and suffering he orchestrated over the years is the least he deserves.
That we deserve.
And Trinity?
I’ll let my brothers decide what they want to do with their new toy—keep her, or discard her.
Chapter Two
Trinity
A rough shake, accompanied by an even rougher, “Hey!” drives me out of a deliciously tangled dream. I knock away Jasper’s hand and scramble into a sit, clutching my blanket to my chest like he was trying to cop a feel.
But that had been Cassius. And a dream.
“What?” I squint up at him with scratchy eyes. “What is it?”
“Where were you last night?” He’s still standing, forcing me to crane back my head to look up at him.
I turn my back to him. “None of your fucking business,” I mutter.
He grabs my shoulder again. “You can’t do shit like this.”
“Shit like what, Jasper?” I yell, twisting around to face him. I kick off my blankets, glaring at him so hard he actually takes a step back and drops onto the edge of his bed. “What do you think I did that’s so fucking wrong?”
He fidgets, smoothing his hair with a palm. “If the hallway monitor catches you outside your room at night, you get lashes. And I’ll get them too.”
I briefly consider telling him that I’d been with the hallway monitor. But then I remember Zachary’s moss-green eyes, and the way he’d stared at me in the shower like I was an ice cream sundae and he was a self-destructive diabetic with a craving for cherries.
“Yeah?” I cock my head to the side. “Do they hurt, those imaginary lashes you keep getting on my behalf?”
I shouldn’t be baiting him like this, but dear Lord I was enjoying that dream, and the blissful sleep that came with it.
Apollo and Cassius snuck me back here just before dawn. I made sure not to wake Jasper, watching him like a hawk as I’d changed into my pajamas and slipped into bed. And unless he’d woken up just after I’d gone to shower, how else would he know I was gone?
“Do they hurt—?” He cuts off with an angry sound and stabs a finger toward me. “You know what? Fuck you. Do whatever you want. But I swear, if I get punished again when you fuck up, then—”
I sneer at him. “When did you ever get…?”
Jasper stands, turns to the side, and tugs down his boxers. Mustard-colored bruises mar his skin.
My stomach turns over before logic can take hold. “You’re lying,” I tell him, standing to get my clothes so I have an excuse to get the hell out of our room. “Those look old, anyway.”
“I got them the first day you arrived because you went to class without your school uniform.”
“I didn’t have one!” I whirl around to face him, thrusting out one of the dresses that miraculously appeared in my closet the day after Ruth took my measurements.
While Apollo watched.
My cheeks catch flame. I hope Jasper takes it as anger and not…something else.
“Think that matters?” he mutters.
“You want to know what I think? I think you did something,” I say, walking closer until he’s leaning back to get away from me. “Something bad enough to get you stuck with a roommate. And now you’re trying to blame me for it.”
This shuts him up, but from the sulk on his mouth, it won’t be for long.
I huff and pause a moment to rub at my temples. There’s still a faint headache lurking from all the weed and alcohol I consumed. “Where do I get painkillers from?”
He smirks at me. “Go fuck yourself.”
“Asshole.” I storm out, heading for the restroom. I hear him calling after me, but I ignore it. Probably just trying to blame more shit on me. The fucking nerve.
I find the closest restroom and change in the stall. After washing my face in the basin, I spend a few minutes trying to sort out my hair.
No luck—it will need another wash before people stop confusing me for a clown. My gaze tracks to the small window on the side of the restroom.
What time is it?
I bundle my pajamas against my stomach. The only laundry hamper I know of is the one in the showers, but I’m sure as hell not going there. I’m sure it’s full of naked boys. And the only naked boys I want to see are a select few who I’m pretty sure wouldn’t be caught dead in that place again.
I’m still blushing at that thought when I let myself back into my room and shove my dirty clothes under my bed.
“Idiot,” Jasper mutters from his bed. He’s lying on his back, a dog-eared copy of Metamorphosis propped on his stomach.
“Jerk,” I snap back. I tug at the hem of my school dress and flounce out of the room.
My stomach keeps alternating between a hungry pit and a maelstrom of bile and stomach acid. Apollo had murmured something about coffee to me when they’d been sneaking me back inside, wrapped in a blanket with nothing but underwear beneath. If it hadn’t been for them, I’d have peed myself at the thought of having to get back to my room without someone seeing me.
So coffee. Possibly breakfast.
Oh Lord. Do I have more gruel to look forward to?
I pause in the hallway, a hand on my stomach. I have to stop thinking about that or I’ll fucking puke.
I’m used to the hallways being empty around here. It seems the only time there’re lots of activities is in the morning when all the boys rush to go shower before pray—
Wait. Did I miss prayer?
I peek down the hallway and spot a boy heading toward me, hair wet and a towel dangling from his shoulders.
“Sorry?” I call out, stepping into the hallway.
He takes me in with a frown. “Yeah?”
“Were there prayers this morning?”
“It’s Saturday,” he says, frown deepening as he moves past me.
I throw up my hands at his retreating back.
I risk a peek outside. There’s not a cloud in the sky and, judging from the position of the sun, it’s early. I should have checked my schedule. Were the weekend activities even on there?
Opening the door wider, I step outside to catch some sun on my face before heading for the dining hall.
I’m not the last to arrive—there are a handful of trays still left on the table. Including mine—bright pink post-it still intact.
TRINITY MALONE
I grimace before I notice there’s a little heart above each of t
he I’s in my name and then a butterfly starts fluttering around in my stomach. I grab my tray and turn to look for an empty spot.
On cue, the snickers begin. I spot a few gaps, but every time I get near, they miraculously close up.
Not all miracles are divine.
Assholes.
There’s something different about the boys today, but I’m too busy trying to ignore their awful giggles to figure out what it is.
Movement draws my eye. Apollo’s waving at me through the kitchen door’s window.
A second butterfly joins the first.
Zach said he’d send for me to discuss what they wanted me to do next. Is that why Apollo’s calling me? I hadn’t thought it would be so soon. I’d hoped to get my head straight by then.
I swallow and walk across the dining hall.
I haven’t had a chance to process the past twenty-four hours. I’ve never felt this conflicted in my life. I want to hate those guys—hell, of course I hate them—but after hearing their stories…is it any wonder they’re so fucked up?
But what about Father Gabriel? The stuff they told me about him? I can’t even begin to process that.
Zach told me Father Gabriel would be back tomorrow.
Apollo pushes open the door when I get close, and beckons me inside with a charming, lopsided smile.
“Hi,” I say, fumbling with my tray as I push a stray curl behind my ear.
He cocks his head and leads me to a steel door. Daylight streams in when he opens it. I step into a courtyard that smells of damp bricks. There’s a concrete table and four stools in the center.
There’s a sickly pot plant in one corner, and another steel doorway opposite. Someone left their boots next to that door.
“Where does that go?” I ask, digging the edge of the tray into my stomach and trying not to look like a complete idiot.
“You don’t have to wear your uniform on weekends,” Apollo says, his back to me as he pulls out a packet of cigarettes and lights one. I look down at myself, close my eyes, and curse inwardly.
That’s what was different about the boys. They were wearing normal clothes, not their usual drab brown.
Is that what Jasper was trying to tell me?
I am an idiot.
“Still have to get used to things around here,” I murmur, heading for the table so I can put my tray down.
“Why bother? Not like you’re going to be here much longer.”
My tray clatters onto the table. I turn to Apollo, mouth gaping. “What do you mean?”
He points to one of the stools. “Sit. Eat.”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Tell me what that’s supposed to mean.”
Instead, he smokes his cigarette and stares at me through a gap in his blond hair. Did he wash it? I bet he has his own bathroom. “Sit.”
I sink down, wincing when the icy concrete touches the back of my thighs.
“Eat.”
Glaring at him doesn’t work, so I let out a huge sigh and tear the plastic wrap from my tray.
Someone cut my toast into the shape of a heart. I look up at Apollo, deadpan.
He grins with one side of his mouth, blowing cigarette smoke my way as he drags his hair out of his face. “For the shit food I made you yesterday,” he says.
I grab a piece of toast and start nibbling on it. “Please tell me what you meant.” Maybe good manners will help me get through to this guy because being rude sure as hell didn’t.
He puts his foot on the stool opposite mine, the table now between us. Taking another drag of his smoke, he leans his elbows on his raised knee, studying me for a few seconds before speaking.
He holds up two fingers. “We got two scenarios here.”
I frown at him.
“First…we’re right, you’re wrong.” He shrugs. “When it all comes to light, shit’s going to go down. Big time. This place—” he flicks his fingers up, taking in Saint Amos towering above us on all sides “—will probably get shut down. Feds would ransack it. Everyone gets arrested. Etcetera, etcetera.”
A chill shivers down my spine. I’m so convinced they’re wrong about Father Gabriel I never even considered what would happen if, by some slight chance, they turned out to be right. I couldn’t stay here. I’d be back in foster care until…when? I’m finished school? Then what?
Lord, but it’s difficult to keep eye contact with Apollo. Paired against Zach and Reuben and Cassius, he seemed almost forgettable. But with his hair out of his face, his high, sharp cheekbones are more distinct. And his mouth? It’s impossible not to watch him every time he takes a drag of his cigarette.
Eyes, Trinity. Eyes!
My gaze snaps back to his eyes. The crinkle in the corner of each tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
My cheeks grow warm.
“And what if I’m right?” I blurt out before biting off another mouthful of toast.
Apollo tilts his head, and his hair slides back into his face. “Even if it’s not Gabriel, Gabriel knows who it is.” He shrugs, drags at his cigarette, and walks around the table to me. “And you’d probably go running your mouth if you think we’d hurt him, so…we’d have to make sure you didn’t do anything like that.”
I’m so shocked at what he’s insinuating. I don’t move when he brushes his fingertips down my jaw. “I wouldn’t do that,” I whisper.
“We’re not exactly trusting of strangers. Nothing personal, pretty thing.”
We.
All those years they spent together in that basement. I can’t even imagine the bond that created between them. I’m guessing it goes far beyond hatching a plan of revenge. They’re not just buddies—they’re brothers.
“Please, you have to believe me.” I widen my eyes as I turn to face him.
There’s uncertainty in his eyes. But there’s something else there too. I can’t be sure, but I’m hoping against all hope that he wants to believe me.
“It’s not me you have to convince,” he says, his lips curling into a smile as he takes another drag of his cigarette.
His fingers trail down my throat. He traces the outline of my collarbone, sending a flurry of shivers through me. Toying with the top button of my dress, his smile hitches up. “Lunchtime, a day like this?” He tilts back his head and looks up at the patch of sky. “Everyone’s gonna picnic in the field.” He stands and goes to kill his cigarette in the pot plant. “No one will miss you until tonight.” He walks over to the kitchen door, pausing with his hand flat on the steel.
“We’ll fetch you in an hour. Wear something pretty,” he says around a smirk.
“Wait!” I call out before he can disappear inside.
He steps back, waiting.
I scrounge up every ounce of courage to ask, “Do you guys have a private bathroom?”
Chapter Three
Trinity
If anyone ever wanted to conduct a study on the effects of blushing, I’d be the perfect candidate. In the past half an hour I don’t think I’ve stopped blushing even once.
I’m in a room in the east wing. It’s nothing like the one I have to share with Jasper. It’s three times the size, and it has its own en-suite bathroom where I’m currently standing buck naked and terrified that someone’s going to walk in on me.
Reuben, to be precise. Since it’s his room, he accompanied me up here. I think he’s in the small study-cum-dining area of his apartment, but his carpets are too thick for me to hear if he did move about.
Steam fills up the shower cubicle, turning the frosted glass white. I slip inside that heavenly cloud, and the water draws a deep sigh from me as it cascades down my body.
There was no way I was going to have lunch with Zac’s boys while I still had traces of sticky alcohol over my breasts and crazy person hair. So I brought my clothes up here and slipped into Reuben’s room while Cassius watched the hallway to make sure no one spotted me.
Apparently, I could get into a lot of trouble being on this floor. More so if I’m discov
ered inside someone’s room.
Lathering rosemary-scented shampoo into my hair I try and squeeze every last drop of indulgence from the most blissful moment I’ve had in the past month.
For a few minutes, there’s nothing but me, the warm water, and that delicious scent. It should smell like Reuben, but on me it smells different.
I’m glad it’s his bathroom I get to use. I’d have refused if it was Cass’s, and it would have felt really weird to use Apollo’s. Strangely, despite how big and scary he is, Reuben feels…safe.
It must be amazing having someone like that in your life. Someone who can knock the teeth out of anyone who dares look at you funny. I’d never be scared again. Not wrapped in his strong arms.
My hand slides down my hip, and I hesitate, biting down on my bottom lip for a second. I peek behind me, but I can’t see the bathroom door through the glass and steam.
Skimming lower, my fingers brush against my clit. A thrill flutters through me as my eyes slide closed. It should have been Reuben’s black eyes that appear, but instead all I can see is Zachary. His solemn expression, that almost permanent crease between his brows.
I took it for severity, but now I know it’s some kind of anger. Anger hardened into a diamond over time. But diamonds aren’t pretty when they first come out of the ground. They’re rough and murky looking. To sparkle, they have to be polished.
I doubt Zachary will ever let anyone close enough for that to happen. He or any of his brothers.
Sinful bliss flashes through me. I haven’t done this in ages, and the guilty pleasure of it makes me bite down even harder on my lip. What do they do in that lair of theirs? Drinking and smoking like they own the place. Do any of them ever slip behind that curtain to do what I’m doing?
Alone.
Together?
Fuck.
A tiny moan escapes my lips. I’m so close I can almost—