by Logan Fox
“Hey,” I greet him, going onto my elbows.
Jasper walks stiffly over to his bed, kneels on the mattress, and lowers himself down with his back to me.
“Everything okay?” I ask. Pretending not to know what happened to him is as difficult as straight-up lying.
“Fucking peaches,” he mutters back.
I wince in sympathy, and then I’m glad it’s dark and he’s not facing me because I’d probably have given myself away.
My ointment is still in my top drawer. Should I leave it out and hope he notices it, or did Miriam give him his own bottle?
Twenty lashes.
Should have been thirty.
No one can survive thirty.
Fuck.
“I know you got lashes,” Jasper says.
I sit up straight. “What—why would you think that?”
“For the drawing,” he says without turning to face me.
My heart is suddenly beating too fast. “What drawing?”
Jasper maneuvers around until he’s facing me. If it wasn’t for the moonlight streaming through our tiny window, I wouldn’t have seen him rolling his eyes at me.
“The one of Rutherford banging you.”
I say nothing as my cheeks start to warm up.
I’d forgotten about Cass’s prank. “Yeah. So what?”
“He likes it, you know.”
“What, the drawing?”
“Beating people,” Jasper says through a world-weary sigh. “He gets off on it.”
He…what? I’ve heard some strange things before, but that? It doesn’t make any sense. And Zachary might be cold and calculating, but…a sadist?
“I don’t think he—”
“He loves beating people as much as he hates gays.” The whites of Jasper’s eyes shine in the moon’s silver glow. “If you don’t believe me, try telling him you’re a lesbian. You won’t be sitting for a week.”
Jasper turns around again.
Even if I could speak, what the fuck am I supposed to say to that?
I need air.
I’m already in my pajamas—yoga pants and a tank top—so I grab my threadbare dressing gown from the foot of the bed where it keeps my feet warm in this ice-box of a room, shove my feet into the fur-lined boots I use as slippers, and shuffle out of the door.
For a while after dinner there was quite a lot of traffic in the hallway. Boys coming and going, laughing and roughhousing. But now all the doors are closed, and the passage is quiet.
Cass came by about half an hour after I’d gotten into bed. It was the first time I’d heard him call ‘lights out’ since I’ve arrived. I’d almost peed myself at the thought that he would slip into my room, but I guess he wouldn’t risk it in case Jasper was there.
I use the restroom before heading back to my room.
I feel sorry for Jasper. It sucks that he and Perry ended up in a place like this, where their relationship is considered a cardinal sin. I wish I could tell him Zachary doesn’t feel that way.
Maybe Jasper and Perry can be open about who they are when they leave Saint Amos. I’ve never had an issue with other people’s sexuality. If you love someone, truly love someone, then things like gender shouldn’t matter.
That’s the one thing I’d admired about my parents. You could tell they were wholly devoted to each other. They weren’t passionate lovers or anything like that—I’ve only heard them making love once, and it only lasted a few minutes. But they spent every moment they could together. I guess my mother’s miscarriages brought them closer together. They happened way before I was born, but I’m sure they played havoc on the marriage. Luckily they tried one last time before she had a hysterectomy, else I wouldn’t be here.
To hear them tell it, God was the one who saw them through those dark times.
I think it was love. A love so strong, it could survive anything. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that they chose each other—and God—over me the night of the accident. I was never included in that love triangle, because I was never as devoted to their faith as they were.
Not for lack of trying. But no matter what I did, it never felt right.
Father Gabriel would often try to rope me into conversations about God when he came to visit. He was subtle about it, and I give him credit for that. But even he could never convince me.
I still went to church, of course. I still prayed when everyone else did.
Gabriel’s coming back tomorrow.
The thought makes my pulse beat a little faster.
What do I do if I find out everything the Brotherhood’s been telling me is bullshit? Would Gabriel still take me under his wing after I doubted him? Or would he act like he did all those times I came right out and told him I didn’t believe?
I can’t handle seeing that disappointment in his eyes again.
Not now. Not after everything.
I walk past my room door without pausing.
I don’t know if I can risk hurting my only friend. I need to make up my mind about Zachary and his brothers before Gabriel gets back.
There’s only one way I can think to do that.
I push back my shoulders, take a deep breath, and start down the stairs.
Chapter Fourteen
Zach
I lost control today.
It’s the girl.
Trinity has a talent for tearing down the walls I’ve meticulously built up around my dark heart. When she’s around, I can’t forget how fucked up I am.
Because of her, I lost control. Now the darkness doesn’t soothe me like it should, nor does the joint I just smoked envelop me in its usual mind-numbing fog.
I feel sick, but not in a physical way. Times like this, it’s as if the disease in my mind is actual cancer, slowly spreading through my neurons.
Infecting. Weakening. Killing.
What will happen when my sanity is gone? When there’s nothing left to hold onto? When I can’t slow down the clock?
The things I did today were supposed to give me more time. But instead of resetting that fateful countdown clock chiming out the minutes till my next breakdown, everything I did today sped it up.
Hurting Cassius.
Our fistfight.
Punishing Jasper.
That last one I’m particularly pissed about. It should have been Miriam, that steward of righteous repentance, doling out his punishment. But I thought it would tame the demon clawing its way up from hell through my body, so I did it instead.
I struck him over and over again, punishing him for something I don’t consider a crime.
There’s a faint noise from outside.
Have one of my brothers returned to our nest? They know better than to disturb me when I’ve gone dark.
Something could have happened. Something important.
Or maybe they’re in as much need of solitude as I am right now. Rube comes here for the quiet sometimes. Just sits on the couch and stares at nothing as he rubs his thumb over his rosary.
Not his anymore.
But does that change anything?
I have to get up and confront whatever—whoever—it is, but I don’t trust myself yet.
Maybe I never will.
Orange light from one of the lamps on the other side of the partition spills through.
Something’s wrong.
My brothers know the dark soothes me. They might dare to come close, but they wouldn’t risk provoking me.
I rally myself, calling back the tendrils of my mind from the far-away places they drift to when I don’t keep them contained. It takes effort, and time.
By then, I can hear soft noises as the invader starts hunting. Tins rattle. Clothes rustle.
I push into a sit and hang my head between my knees for a moment. The cool air slides against my bare back as I breathe deep and try to center myself before standing.
I head for the edge of the curtain, the padded floor masking my footsteps, and zone in on the sound of a tin rattling. Sliding a finger behind t
he curtain, I part it far enough to see a sliver of the room beyond.
My chest tightens painfully.
I’m suddenly too aware of the slow thump-thump-thump of my heart.
She shouldn’t be here.
I shouldn’t go out there.
She’s a blast of warm air to the glowing coals of my mind, and everything around us is mere tinder.
But I guess I like the flames, because I slip out of the dark anyway.
I’ve always liked the flames.
Chapter Fifteen
Trinity
There’s nothing here. I thought they’d have hidden things between their clothes and porno mags and booze and cigarettes.
But there’s nothing. Nothing!
Everything here has a purpose. Not a single object is decorative or sentimental.
It’s fucking creepy.
I guess it was stupid of me to think they’d leave anything incriminating lying around.
I’m just about to leave when I spot the corner of a book sticking out under a heap of clothes.
My bible.
I pull it out, running my palm over the cover as I trace the embossed letters with my fingers.
I’m about to open it and take out the photo of my father I’m hoping is still inside when the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“Find anything interesting?” Zachary asks, his voice inches from my ear.
I spin around with a strangled gasp, clutching the thick bible to my chest like a shield. But it falls from nerveless fingers when I see his face.
He catches it absently before it can hit the floor, and sets it down on the shelf behind me.
Dead eyes the color of pond algae regard me for long moments before he leans forward and rests his palms on the shelf. First one hand, then the other, boxing me in.
It’s strange seeing him bare-chested in a pair of jeans. It feels wrong. A sinful kind of wrong. But when I try to look away, my gaze darts to the tattoo on his pec before I can force myself to look up at him. The combination of that sinister tattoo and his dead eyes is chilling.
“I was—”
“Lost?” he rasps as he narrows his eyes. “Browsing? Spying? Tell me if I’m getting warmer.”
I’m trembling inside. His proximity, his intensity…it’s too much. I can barely breathe. But instead of bowing my head and begging him for forgiveness, I shove my nose into the air and glare up at him.
“I’m taking you on your word about all of this,” I say. I lift up a finger. “You couldn’t give me a shred of proof. But I’m willing to give you guys a chance, anyway.”
“Liar.” He lets out a long sigh that shifts strands of hair against my face. He ducks down, leaning in until his nose is almost brushing mine. “If you believed us, you’d be snug in your little bed right now, not wandering around sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”
I have to cleave my tongue from the roof of my mouth before I can speak. “Fuck you! I do belong here.”
We frown at each other.
“I mean, I have every right to be here. I have every right to ask questions. You can’t expect blind faith from me.”
He throws back his head and laughs. When he looks at me again, my body goes cold. That crazy laugh didn’t add a single degree of warmth to his dead eyes.
“Do you honestly think we live in a world where you have rights?” He arches against me, pressing me into the ridge of the shelf. I wince, but quickly smooth my face.
Don’t show a flicker of what you’re feeling, Trinity. Cass says they can read me like a book? Well it’s time I closed the goddamn cover.
“Of course I have—”
“Wrong,” he cuts in, grabbing my jaw. “This is the real world. And in the real world, you’re not special, Trinity.” His eyes grow hooded. “None of us are.”
I grab his wrist. He’s too strong for me to pull him away but at least this way I can feel his pulse.
It should be racing, like mine.
But it’s dead calm.
Fear worms deep into me and starts squirming around in my intestines like a fat snake.
I didn’t expect anyone to be here. I could have sworn they’d said it was risky staying out here. That they all went back to the dorms at night. But I guess he couldn’t go back reeking of weed and booze like he does. Or with that purplish bruise on his jaw. He’s in no state to be seen outside of these walls.
And I’m not safe down here with him.
“I should leave,” I say.
“You should never have come.” He ducks lower, his glare pinning me like a butterfly to a corkboard. “Tell me, little girl, why did you come?”
He’d see right through me if I lied. And honestly, how much worse could I make this?
“Because I don’t trust you. Any of you.” I swallow hard and muster up every bit of courage I have left. “But you can change that. Tell me. Tell me everything.”
His lips quirk into a dark smile. “Everything?” he murmurs.
He tucks a curl behind my ear before trailing his fingers down my jaw. It shouldn’t, but that touch sends a thrill down my spine.
It could be fear masquerading as something else, but I have a feeling it’s not. I’m trapped in the lion’s den and instead of looking for a way out, I’m poking the fucking lion.
I know Father Gabriel isn’t capable of hurting anyone. But that doesn’t matter to the Brotherhood, does it? I’ve been drawn into their war, despite my protests.
I don’t have a choice but to fight but I’m going to make sure I’m on the right side of the battle line first.
“You couldn’t handle hearing what happened to us in one day, never mind the years we spent down there,” Zachary says.
“We? It’s always we.” I poke him right between the dripping fangs of his snake tattoo. “I want to know about you. I want to know what kind of person you are. How else can I trust you?”
He laughs. “You want to know what kind of person I am, Trinity?”
The only warning I have is the darkness shadowing his eyes as he scans my body.
Zachary grabs me, spins me, shoves me.
Hard.
I tumble over the arm of the couch, barely stopping myself from bouncing onto the floor. Expecting him to pounce on me—perhaps even try what Cass tried—I scramble into a sit. But he just stands there watching me, his chest heaving like he went three rounds with the world champion.
“I used to think I was a good person, back when I was a kid.” His hands curl into fists and then open again as he steps closer. “Thought I’d become something great. Astronaut, doctor. The usual shit kids fantasize about.”
In my fantasies, I was a ballerina. But my parents made it clear that the only career they approved of was me becoming someone’s wife and, eventually, someone’s mother.
It didn’t faze me that much. I was probably too short to be a ballerina anyway.
Zachary moves to the front of the couch. And I stay right where I am, because for the first time since I’ve been pressing him for information about his past, I’m actually getting what I want.
So instead of bolting, I pull my legs into my chest, hugging myself as he stands in front of me.
Does he like towering over people? My neck’s already aching from craning up to look at him.
“So what happened? What changed?”
There’d been a faint smile on his mouth. It fades as his hands slowly unfurl again.
“You really want to know?”
I nod.
He inhales deep and lets out everything as a long sigh through his nose. “There’s something I want, too.”
His smile returns.
I wish it hadn’t.
It makes my stomach coil.
“But you’re not going to like it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Zach
No one’s ever shown such interest in my past. My brothers already know everything, and we’re not exactly the type to sit around a campfire trading anecdotes. Not any t
hat touch on the basement, anyway.
So what is her ulterior motive? Why is she still here?
“Deal?” It says a lot that I’d give her a chance to back out.
She nods.
It’s possible Trinity doesn’t fully comprehend what she’s agreed to. Not because she’s dumb—far from it—but because she’s literally that naive.
“Get up.”
She stands, her eyes not staying on mine longer than a second before flickering away.
She should be nervous.
I move behind the couch and pat the headrest. She visibly steels herself, lifting her chin and pushing out her chest before following.
When she’s close enough, I grab her hips and shove her into the back of the couch. My cock stiffens at her surprised gasp. It’s still a long way from being hard, but just the thought of what I’m about to do to her sweet, innocent little ass has my body readying itself.
“Hold on.”
She hesitates and then spreads her arms, digging her fingers into the headrest’s cushion.
“Like thi—?”
I grab her dressing gown and yank it off her shoulders, letting it pool by her feet. When I grab the waistband of her yoga pants she tries to move away, but a shove to the small of her back keeps her in place.
“Do they have to come off?” she asks in a tight voice.
“Obviously.” I yank down her pants, baring her panties. My fingers itch to delve inside her underwear, to touch her…but that’s not what we agreed.
I could have left her pants around her knees, but instead I draw them down all the way to her feet. I slip off her boots and slide her pants off, tossing them over the back of the couch.
When I touch the elastic of her panties, she stiffens. “Please,” she murmurs. “Leave them on.”
I should have ripped them off, but I fight back the urge. That thin film of fabric is inconsequential. If I want to admire my handiwork, I can do that when we’re done.
“Spread your legs.”
When she doesn’t obey, I kick them open for her. I run a hand over the curve of her ass and then up her plump cheek, massaging the flesh beneath.