Wait, runny nose? She reached up and wiped the wetness with her fingers and cracked her eyes open. Her head still rang, the sun seared her eyeballs like an old-fashioned ray gun from BTW science fiction movies, and her body was doing a damn good impression of an exposed nerve. Add to that, she’d lost everyone she ever thought cared about her or that she cared about, and this day beat out the day her mother died for worst day ever. A peek at her damp fingers drew a curse. Not snot. Blood.
An agonized moan escaped, yet she dropped her hand on her chest unable to care she bled from at least her nose at the moment. Probably a few other places, too. She licked dry lips and noted the metallic taste of blood in her mouth, too. Yep, there’s one.
“What the….” Strange voices sounded. Someone must have spotted her lying at the foot of what she assumed were the steps of the amphitheater the High Council used in Epsilon.
“Annabel Priestly?” someone asked as they knelt over her sprawled body.
A tear leaked from the corner of her eye, and she hated the display of weakness. “Yes.” Words hurt less than trying to move at the moment.
“Hold on,” came the voice and then she thankfully blacked out.
Chapter Eight
Nate gripped the handles on his bike and leaned low over the stretched-out chassis. Beside him, Liam mimicked his stance and pace as they ate up the pavement. But no matter how fast they flew, it would never be fast enough. Not when Bel’s life could hang in the balance.
News of her whereabouts had arrived around midmorning, maybe closer to noon. It didn’t much matter since the ache in their chests had yet to dissipate. They ripped through their corner of Epsilon on the way to the High Council’s headquarters, where four of the five territories met, driven by the knowledge Bel was dumped like BTW trash on Joseph Weston’s doorstep.
Joseph would have alerted them once he figured out her identity and what had happened, but the messenger hadn’t been dispatched by the leader of the High Council. Instead, some half-starved kid who hadn’t seen a bath in probably a year, and who didn’t know who paid him in extremely rare BTW coin, brought them word of Bel. They turned the boy over to the ladies after he delivered the message with instructions to clean and feed him. They’d decide what to do with him later.
Worried over what little they knew and the big stinking pile of what they didn’t, they pushed themselves and their bikes to the edge of safety to get there even a few seconds faster. Parked and in one piece, they tore into the amphitheater’s side entrance where the repurposed office spaces provided live/work space for Joseph.
Side by side, they stormed into the man’s office and found him hunched over a desk. Sitting up, he arched a brow in admonishment. “I had planned to send for you. Later.”
“Where is she?” Nate demanded and slammed his hands down square in the center of the paper-strewn desk. His desperation to see her overrode judgment and good manners.
Joe smiled kindly, but with a strength hidden deep within. Both he and Liam had always admired the spiritual leader’s unflappability. He stared at Nate’s hands for a moment and then looked up. “She is well but still resting. Please,” he waved toward the empty chairs, “sit and have some coffee with me.”
“Joe, no offense, but we need to see for ourselves Bel is okay.” Liam came across much calmer than Nate felt.
Joe sighed and set his pen down. “I’m afraid she is unavailable at the moment. I haven’t even spoken with her yet to discover what happened.”
The thin thread of patience Nate had left snapped. He swept the painstakingly made sheets off the wooden surface and left them to float gently to the ground as he roared, “Where the hell—” But, Liam reached out and grabbed his arms to pull him away from the mess he’d made.
“You know the rules. Now, you can cooperate and wait here until I can let you in to see her, you can wait downstairs in a holding cell after one of the men-at-arms escorts you there, or you can wait back at home until my official summons comes sometime in the next few days. Your choice.” Speech done, their friend leaned back in his chair and spread his hands open suggesting the choice lay beyond his control.
Liam growled but pushed Nate into the nearest chair. “We’ll wait.”
“Very good. I’m due to check on our patient. The doctor just left.”
***
Bel was pretty sure she wasn’t dead. There was too much pain for her to not be alive. But, on the upside, she occupied a soft bed, and the sheets smelled of roses.
“Annabel, how are you feeling?” A kind and vaguely familiar male voice interrupted her personal assessment.
“Like road kill.” The burning ache when she spoke suggested she’d managed to get road rash inside somehow.
“I imagine you do. You made quite an appearance sprawled on our doorstep.” The disembodied voice floated around the room. Or maybe he had simply moved?
Of course, if she just opened her eyes she could put a face to the voice, but then there would be no pretending the last twenty-four hours were some kind of hideous nightmare instead of her life. With a sigh of resignation, she pushed her lids up just a bit. Soft light slipped beneath her lashes, not the harsh sunlight she remembered from earlier. Relief melted over her, dissipating the tension from the muscles she hadn’t realized remained strained and ready for action. She dug deep for the little bit of energy left and opened her eyes all the way. Miraculously, her lids stayed put once she got them up.
“There are those pretty blue eyes I remember.”
Joseph Weston. He owned the voice she hadn’t wanted to identify.
“Glad to see you awake. Much longer, and I planned to call the doctor back to take another look at you.”
He smiled, and though she knew he meant to reassure, it just made her sad. Images of Liam standing with Joseph the last time she’d seen him flashed before her eyes. A tear slipped free. When had she turned into a leaky faucet? What was wrong with her that she cried all the fucking time now? A sigh escaped, and she reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. Except, her arm wouldn’t respond. What the fuck?
A glance down showed her why she couldn’t move. It rested in a sling, bound with bandages. Her left arm lay free, but when she lifted it, every muscle screamed in pain. Clearly, moving was an all-around bad idea.
“Do you remember what happened?” Joseph pulled up a seat by her bedside. “Maybe, how you came to be pushed from a car to land on the High Council’s doorstep with the word traitor scrawled on your forehead?”
Without making a conscious decision, she reached up with her free hand to touch the indicated spot.
“It’s gone.” His eyes offered sympathy and kindness despite the circumstances.
“Thank you.” Her voice cracked, and the soft tissues of her throat ached, still raw from overuse.
“Here, try some water.” He handed her a small cup. “Sip, don’t gulp. I imagine your throat hurts. It appears someone choked you at some point.”
A sip of liquid resulted in the cool wetness sliding down her throat to soothe the raw tissue. “Marcus. Marcus Priestly choked me.”
“Marcus. Not my father?” Joseph’s forehead squished up in surprise.
Bel let his question slip through her and waited for a reaction. Nothing. Not even a pang of loss. He might as well be dead.
“No. I have no father. No mother. No sisters. No family.” Pain lanced through her chest on the last word because she’d had a family, maybe not a conventional one, but she, Nate, and Liam had bonded. But that was before they’d relegated her to a possession. Before she’d stood over their bed with a knife. Before Nate had woken to see her stand there and argue with herself to spare their lives.
Shit, she really wanted to puke.
“I see. Well, there are two men outside who seem to think otherwise. They’ve been here since shortly after you spilled out of that car and are demanding to see you.”
Panic flared bright and sharp. “No!” Heart poundi
ng with a mix of fear and desperation, she whipped the sheets off her legs and tried to push to her feet. Before she could move, Joseph had her back in bed and pressed against the pillow.
“Slow down. You don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. At least not for the moment.”
He tucked her back into bed, letting his words seep in. Her stomach knotted and bottomed out, similar to how it had long ago on the Giant Dipper, a BTW roller coaster. It had survived The Wave, but not the riots a couple years later.
“I don’t want to see them.”
“Do you want to tell me why?” His magnetism had seemed muted until that moment. Like someone flipped a switch, he suddenly radiated a warmth and gentleness designed to make her want to trust him. Make her want to tell him the truth. The whole truth. It worked.
So she spilled everything she knew. Every shocking, graphic detail. Maybe more than he really wanted or needed to know, but she told it all. When she finished, he simply nodded.
“That’s it. A nod?”
“That is quite a story. Pieces and parts I am familiar with, but for others I would need corroboration of some kind.”
“Sorry, pretty sure there isn’t anyone who can vouch for my story.”
“I don’t know about that. Regardless, there are parts you told me I know are true, and, unfortunately, because of our laws, I am bound to take action. Do you understand you have admitted to deserting the Beasts who took you in lieu of your fa—Marcus’ life?” Concern laced his tone.
At that moment, facing an angry mob would have been easier than looking her confessor in the eye. She’d known how this would end when she told her story. Didn’t make it any easier to say the words or accept her fate. “I do.”
“And you understand this desertion is punishable by death?”
“I do.” Sadness swept through her along with regret for being such a hothead with the boys. Regret for not trusting them more. Regret for letting her father manipulate her, except if not for his machinations she never would have found Liam and Nate. But. Most of all she regretted she would never get to tell them how she felt. Sitting alone in a bed discussing her fate with Joseph Weston, she knew deep in her heart she loved her Beasts. Loved them with all her being, which meant she could never have followed through with her mission.
“Very well. I need to follow up on a few things. It’s getting late. I suggest you try and sleep a little more. Tomorrow, we will figure out this tangle.” He rose to leave.
“Wait. T-tomorrow?” Fear made it difficult to breathe again.
He patted her hand on his way out. “Don’t worry. All will work out as it should. You just have to believe.”
Bel settled into the bed and scoffed at his parting words. She just had to believe. Where had she heard that before? Hold on, she’d heard it recently. The image of the little gnomish man flitted through her sleepy mind. Believe in nonexistent fairy tales? Happy endings that could never be? Not likely, not anymore. She drifted off to a restless sleep.
***
Liam didn’t need the BTW clock on the wall to tell him they’d been sitting not-so-patiently, waiting for Joe to tell them something. Anything. No, he had Nate. Although he occupied the same chair he’d been shoved into shortly after they arrived, his friend practically vibrated with pent-up angst and energy. It reminded him just how long they’d sat there. Then, for probably the hundredth time, his best friend rose and paced. At least he hadn’t hit anything.
Well, anything else.
There was the little matter of the solid-wood office door his dark warrior had tried to jam his fist through in a fit of frustration. He did not win that battle. However, the pain seemed to help center him. For about ten minutes.
“How can you sit there and calmly wait?”
Liam lifted his brow, amused Nate still missed obvious details when he was agitated. “What makes you believe I feel any calmer than you?”
Nate looked ruefully at his bloody knuckles. “Well, you haven’t cleaned Joe’s desk for him and you didn’t try to redecorate his office door either.”
He focused on letting the darkness hovering at the edges of his conscious drift away. There was no point in giving free rein to the despair when they didn’t have information beyond the very basics. “We know the most important thing. She’s alive.” He tried to let that knowledge be enough, yet worry kept edging in, dredging up the past. Memories of waiting to hear more about his mother and sister.
Nate grunted.
Liam wanted to roar at the situation, ached to go search Bel out and see that she was well, but he knew it would only land one or both of them in a holding cell, and that wasn’t helpful for anyone.
The silence stretched taut as Nate paced, and he focused on taking deep breaths to keep the anger and frustration at bay. Then the office door opened and Joe walked in.
His face was a study in neutrality. No smile, but no frown either. No gentle reassurance sparkled in his gaze, yet nothing suggested discouragement. “I have spoken with Bel.”
Nate stood with feet planted shoulder width apart and fists balled at his sides, ready for action. A complete contrast to Liam’s wariness and deceptively relaxed slump. He sat up slowly. “May we see her?”
Regret chased across his features. “I’m afraid not.” He walked in and returned to his seat behind the desk. “While it is clear you both care for her, I am afraid she is refusing to see either of you.”
Nate remained still even as he growled.
The news landed like a punch to the gut and damn near had Liam doubled over. “Refuses to see us? I don’t understand.”
“She has explained everything to me, and, while I do not agree with her decision, I will honor it.” As one, they lunged toward his desk, stopping short when he held his hand up. “For now.”
“She belongs with us,” Liam snarled.
“Be that as it may. She does not wish to see you. I assure you, she is on the mend despite her injuries. You will have to wait to see her.” He sat at his desk and crossed his arms. “Will you leave, or must I have you forcibly removed?”
Silence stretched out as Liam debated the best course of action. He glanced at Nate who looked at him as though he simply awaited the nod to begin tearing the place apart. He shook his head, which caused Nate to flinch in surprise. For once they were not on the same page.
“We’ll go, Joe. I hope you know this is asking a lot of us.”
“I’m aware.” It was clear by the set of his shoulders that he would not budge on this issue.
Liam turned to go but had to reach back and drag Nate with him. His surly partner waited until they reached the parking lot to speak.
The sun sat so low in the sky, a peaceful purple-blue tone coated everything around them. In the quiet early evening, Nate grabbed Liam and spun him around until they were face-to-face, his hand fisted in his shirt. “You could have fought harder.”
Truth was, he’d been scared. Scared of whatever secret Bel harbored that caused her to run. “Maybe. Although, you saw Joe. You know him as well as I do. He wasn’t going to budge on the issue. Didn’t much matter what we said.”
Nate released Liam’s shirt and let his forehead thump against his chest. “I miss her.”
Three little words reverberated deep in Liam’s soul because he felt the same way.
Chapter Nine
Liam followed the rest of the High Council to their seats on the stage. Every step, every scuff of furniture, every ragged breath echoed back at them in the cavernous emptiness of the amphitheater. Nate stood off to one side awaiting the outcome of the council’s decision. At the moment, the council consisted of five leaders, one from each of the territories except for the Devil’s Disciples. The High Council had not informed Marcus Priestly of the emergency private session.
“Council members, I have called you here to decide an issue of grave importance.” Joe employed a toned-down version of his usual theatrics, but laid out the situation. At
the end, he addressed his second-in-command, “Please bring Bel forth.”
The tall muscular man, who looked more suited to be a Beast than a Sin Eater, disappeared into the shadows. A few moments later, he escorted Bel before the council. The man led her to a lone seat set center stage. After suppressing the surge of rage that fired his blood, Liam panned to Nate in time to see him flinch at her still-healing visage. Despite three days of rest, ugly purple, blue, and green marks lined one side of her face, and the similarly colored marks on her neck held the distinct shape of a large hand. Most importantly, she refused to meet either his or Nate’s gaze. Her eyes remained focused on her clenched hands deceptively still in her lap.
The late-afternoon sun shone down, lending the proceedings a warm and contradictory cheeriness. Since Joe had refused to share with them what Bel had said during his private conversation with her, they remained unsure what to expect. The lack of information tested their trust in the man they called friend but believed in him.
Now, all would be revealed while the High Council learned of recent events and decided Bel’s fate, and ultimately theirs, since in their minds the three of them were intertwined forever.
“Before you sits a woman. One who should be familiar from our most recent proceedings. She arrived almost forty-eight hours ago on our doorstep, body bruised and bloody, spirit damaged. Dumped like the morning trash.”
Liam wanted very much to punch Joe as he watched her face turn red in what he assumed to be embarrassment. But he’d trusted Joe this far. A master at building an argument, he allowed him to continue for the moment uninterrupted.
“How had this come to pass after the High Council had placed her in the care of The Beasts?” Joe paused dramatically, and Nate’s low growl rumbled into the silence, drawing the awareness of the council members. Liam shook his head in warning for him to let Joe finish. “I assure you it is through no fault of our trusted council member and his partner. However, there is one who is responsible for this unjust punishment and much more. Council members, if you will bear with me, you will hear a story of trust, manipulation, betrayal, and love.”
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