Their Will be Done: A Dark New Adult Reverse Harem Romance (The Sinners of Saint Amos Book 2)

by Logan Fox

  The last is as much a surprise to me as it is to Zachary. He straightens his head with a snap, eyes boring into me like a physical force.

  “Or I’ll tell him everything.”

  I should have led with that. Zachary’s face slowly pales, but I know it isn’t with fear.

  It’s anger, or rage, or a dirty-bomb of the two. I back up, and feel behind me for the door.

  I turn the lock.

  Then the handle.

  I keep my eyes on him like I would a wild animal, just in case he decides to pounce on me before I’m in the clear.

  The last thing I see before I close the door is Zachary’s face.

  He looks like he’s seen a ghost…and he’s planning to murder it.

  I barely make it to the downstairs restroom. I puke into the basin, my stomach contracting so painfully, I’m shocked there aren’t chunks of blood in the sink when I rinse it out.

  It takes a few seconds before I can convince myself to look in the mirror.

  My hair is mussed and my dress isn’t sitting right. But it’s the blood on my chin and around my mouth that makes me force down a dry retch.

  Trust me girl, we’ll make you scream.

  I have to get the hell out of this school.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Zach

  Reuben doesn’t bother to knock. It’s not that he doesn’t respect my privacy or any of that shit. The four of us never need permission to speak to each other, or even just to be in the same room. If we’d had to put up with pleasantries like that back in the basement, we’d all have gone stark raving mad.

  “I came as soon as—” he begins.

  “Sit.”

  He takes the foot of the bed, perching picture perfect like always. Straight spine, chest out, chin up.

  I watch him for a second, and then reach over to my drawer and take out a joint I’d rolled just for this occasion.

  “It’s the middle of the day,” Reuben says. “Someone could—”

  “What?” I snap. “Ex-communicate me?” I glare at him from the bed where I’m sprawled on my back.

  As part of my pious disguise, I took a room more befitting a first-year student than a teacher. That’s Zachary fucking Rutherford for you. Groveling would-be priest who couldn’t swat a fly.

  I’m not scared of you.

  But she sure fucking looked it. Trembling like a newly born foal. It had taken every atom of self-control I still possessed not to pin her to my desk exactly like in Cass’s drawing, and fuck her into submission.

  Monsters breed monsters.

  Rube shakes his head when I pass the joint to him after lighting it up.

  “I insist,” I say, pushing the words through my teeth.

  He could have argued. He might have won. Instead, he takes the joint, studies it, and hits it like a champ.

  That’s what I love about Rube. He knows when to say yes, and when to say no.

  That’s how he stayed sane with his Ghost. That evil motherfucker broke him over and over again. Eventually Rube stopped fighting. Every “no” turned into a “yes”. He taught himself to submit.

  We’d all have been a lot better off if we hadn’t fought so hard. But then everyone except Cass would be as broken as him. Days like today I don’t know how Reuben can stand to look at himself in the mirror.

  He hands back the joint without making eye contact.

  “She won’t do it,” I tell him before taking a drag.

  “Why?”

  “Because sometime in the last twenty-four hours, she decided we’re full of shit and Gabriel’s a fucking saint.”

  “She said that?”

  “Pretty much.” I study the tip of the joint, and then move my focus to Rube’s face. He’s staring at nothing again—most convincingly. “He got in her head.”

  Rube lets out a soft sigh through his nose before leaning back to dig in his pocket.

  He exchanges a piece of mangled paper and his red rosary for the joint.

  I read the note and then toy with the rosary while Rube helps himself to the rest of the joint.

  She was lying to me. Not only is Gabriel not busy, he asked to see her tonight. I’m not sure I like this version of Trinity. It takes a special skill set to manipulate people with backbone. I don’t think I have the energy to play that game.

  “Guess we should have seen it coming,” I say.

  “So we’re back to Plan A?” Rube exhales a plume of smoke.

  “Not yet.”

  He looks across at me, frowning hard. “Then what?”

  I wriggle my shoulders under me, pressing my head into my pillow. “I’ll go.”

  “To see Gabriel?” Reuben sounds uneasy.

  “She told me where he hid his laptop.”

  “How will you get in?”

  “I’ll figure out a way.” I wave my hand at him. “Leave it to Beaver.”

  “Cass should go instead.” Rube should have taken my glare as a warning, but he just keeps going. “He’s got a reason to talk with Gabriel.”

  “So do I.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “He’s sacrificed enough.” Rube goes quiet, but I can sense he wants to say something. “What?”

  “Cass. He was—”

  “What, Rube?

  But Reuben shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right—you should go.”

  I frown at him. “What were you going to say?”

  He turns to me, a faint smile on his mouth. “We’re getting close. Can you feel it?”

  Is it the weed, or is he being weird on purpose? “Close to what?”

  His smile inches up, but it doesn’t grow warmer. “To the end.”

  I shove my hands under my neck and massage those suddenly tight muscles. “You excited or something?”

  He takes a moment to consider. “Eager.”

  “For vengeance?”

  His dark eyes latch onto mine. “You know what you’ll have to do?”

  I blink, thrown by his sudden change in direction. “What, tonight?”

  He nods.

  Yeah, I fucking know. I’ll have to do whatever it takes. Just like Cass.

  “Like you said, we’re getting close. Can’t fuck it up now, can we?”

  He grabs my ankle and squeezes. I wince, but the pain I feel is ephemeral. He keeps his thumb there, digging into the sensitive spot behind my Achilles tendon. It doesn’t seem intentional, but I learned a long time ago that Reuben does everything for a reason. He puts other psychopaths to shame.

  “Then do whatever it takes, brother, and let’s finish this.”

  Gabriel’s door is open. I stand in the hallway for a moment, my face slack and my body non-responsive no matter how hard I try to force it to move forward.

  He knows you’re coming. No need to postpone the inevitable.

  I wrap my hands over my chest, grabbing my elbows as I step inside. No use going in like a warrior in a battle charge—I must be the epitome of calm-as-fuck Brother Zachary. I can’t let my mask slip for even a second.

  Not like it did last night with Cass.

  I broke him.

  But he’s still alive.

  For nothing.

  We don’t know that.

  Shut the fuck up!

  The argument in my head ceases. For now.

  Let’s get this over with.

  I announce myself with a weak, “Father?” as I step through the antechamber and into his apartment proper.

  I’ve only been here once before, and then too briefly to remember much. The fire is lit but smoking heavily, as if the logs he put on were damp.

  The laptop isn’t under the bed like Trinity said it would be. It’s right in front of Father Gabriel on the four-seater dining table.

  White light bathes his face and reflects off a pair of glasses I’ve never seen him wear. I know I didn’t make a sound getting here, but as if he senses my presence, he looks up from the screen.

  The jolt he gives when he sees me couldn’t hav
e been faked and suddenly I’m questioning every fucking thing that’s led me to this point.

  “Son,” he says, hurriedly taking off his glasses and standing as he closes the laptop lid. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Son?

  I suppress a disgusted snarl before it can reach my lips. “It was open.” And then I add a belated, “Sorry, I should have knocked.”

  “No, no.” Gabriel moves around the table, lifting his hands. “It’s perfectly fine. I was just…” He looks toward the fire. “Is it too warm? I thought with the rain it would be colder tonight.”

  He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans. With his glasses off, he could have been in his late thirties.

  Keeps himself buff for a priest. Vain much, Father?

  My eyes narrow as I study his back. What fucking game is he playing, pretending at some saintly priest who needs glasses to read and gets so easily caught up in his work he wouldn’t notice the knife plunging into his neck until it was too late?

  Now I’m wishing I had a knife on me. Wishing I’d crept up behind him and used it.

  But I could never forgive myself for doing such a selfish thing. My brothers deserve to take his life as much as I do.

  We made a pact.

  Their vengeance is mine. Mine is theirs.

  If we can’t find the Ghosts, if we can’t get Gabriel to confess and give up their names, then we agreed to kill him together.

  Gabriel’s voice wrenches me back to the present. “I’m glad you came to see me.”

  “It’s about Santos—” I begin, eager to get this shit show on the road.

  “Yes.” He waves a hand to one of the armchairs. “Please, sit.”

  My skin crawls at the thought of being closer to him.

  Coward.

  I take the seat he offers and risk another glance around his room. With my back to it I can’t see much, but at least I have a good view of the bedroom area from here. His bed looks roughly made. Did he just draw the sheets up and plump the pillows?

  Was he sleeping before he decided to turn on his laptop? Or has he not tidied since he woke up this morning?

  Perhaps he never went to sleep.

  I’d love to know what happened here last night. What he and Trinity spoke about. What he said to turn her against us.

  Or had we done that ourselves?

  “I know this would have been discussed at length during your seminal training, but after last night, I feel you may need a refresher.”

  I frown up at Gabriel. “About what?” And then add a reluctant, “Father.”

  “Celibacy.”

  I look away, my lips writhing in an attempt to smile. I transform my bemusement into confusion so that when he turns to face me, he’ll see nothing suspicious. “I don’t follow.”

  Gabriel’s face is anything but warm and kind. There’s a hardness to his mouth, a chill in his eyes.

  There he is.

  Is our Guardian coming out to play?

  I slide my hands along the arms of the chair and sink my fingertips into the cushion.

  We stare at each other until he breaks the frigid silence. “When did you and Cassius meet?”

  My eyelashes flutter before I can widen my eyes in surprise. I don’t even have to fake it.

  “When he enrolled?” I grimace inwardly when I hear my words come out as a question and not a statement.

  Gabriel’s mouth curls up at the edges. “This is a safe place, child.”

  A safe place?

  My fingers dig deeper, and I let them. It’s either that or they’ll be digging into his fucking throat.

  “What is it that you’re insinuating—?”

  He lets out a soft huff of a laugh, a sad smile touching his mouth. “God sees everything.” He lifts his hands for all the world like he’s preaching a sermon. “I see everything.”

  Cold shock flashes through me. I’m on my feet, hands balled in fists. Gabriel doesn’t seem surprised by the sudden vehemence in my voice when I say, “And what is it that you see, Father?”

  He steps closer, until there’s barely a foot between us.

  “I see a lonely young man who turned to a friend for comfort.”

  His hand lands on my shoulder, but I dip away from him and stumble back. My jaw clenches so hard, I don’t think I could have spoken if I tried.

  “It’s something I’ve seen a hundred times, if not more. And while it’s perfectly understandable, it’s still a sin.”

  Is he talking about the basement? Back then we only had each other. Where else could we have found comfort but in each other’s arms? There was nothing wrong with it.

  There is nothing wrong with it.

  Nothing.

  Gabriel follows me, face neutral but his cast with deep shadows.

  Cunning, shrewd, cautious.

  So careful not to reveal anything.

  “I know you, Zachary.”

  And there it is, bare and naked. He knows me. Gabriel’s known about us all along.

  “Then you know I’ve known you for a long time too,” I growl, no longer bothering to disguise any element of my true self. “So why do we keep playing these childish games?”

  Suddenly, there’s hesitation in Gabriel’s eyes. And when I step closer, it’s his turn to step back.

  Dancing with each other.

  Parrying. Attacking.

  Like we’ve practiced this altercation in our minds for years.

  I know I have. Why wouldn’t he?

  They say strangling is an act of passion. I can’t agree more. I’m in love with the thought of snuffing out the Guardian’s life with my bare fucking hands. So much so, my fingers itch to be around his throat.

  He lifts his chin, his gaze wavering before his mouth sets in a hard line. “You don’t know anything, child. You’re dealing with malevolent forces you can’t begin to understand.”

  Too fast, he grabs me. We’re against each other but with bodies bristling—repelling each other like same-pole magnets.

  “I know exactly what I’m dealing with,” I grit out as I scour his eyes for the truth. For his genuine self. But before I can find anything, he grabs the back of my neck and digs his fingers into my flesh.

  A shudder courses through me, and I hate myself in that moment more than I ever have before.

  I used to think I was a sadomasochist. That I enjoyed both inflicting and receiving pain.

  But that’s not the case.

  I simply endure pain in return for others allowing me to inflict it on them.

  His hard grip rouses a sexual tension in me—not because I enjoy the pain he inflicts, but because I know that soon—so much sooner than I’d thought—he’ll be at my mercy.

  A mercy his Ghosts eradicated from me years ago.

  “Don’t act like you hate me,” Gabriel murmurs. “I am you. And you are me.”

  “I’m nothing like you!” I yell. I fist his t-shirt in my hand. “I’ll never be like you!”

  He tsks me as he searches my face, a fond smile stretching his mouth. “I’ll let you in on a little secret, child.” He licks his lips, and on instinct I lick mine. “You can only hate yourself for so long. Then there’s nothing left to do but forgive.”

  I should have seen it coming, but I’m so wrapped up in my own hateful thoughts that his mouth is against mine before I can push him away.

  Though that contact is brief, the outrage of his unsolicited touch rips through me like an electro-magnetic blast.

  “The fuck?” I stagger back from him, wiping my mouth with the back of a shaking hand. My disgust is mirrored on his face.

  He tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly at me. “So you can fuck a man, but you can’t bear to kiss one?”

  He walks up to me. I fall back with a warning growl he ignores.

  “It might feel like less of a sin, but trust me, son, it’s not.”

  My back hits the wall.

  Gabriel stops a few feet away, sliding his hands behind his back.
<
br />   “God has already condemned us both to hell.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Trinity

  I should be in the laundry room doing chores, but with four days left till the end of term, I doubt anyone’s going to lay down the law on a rainy Monday afternoon.

  So instead I’m in my room, considering sneaking into the shower room.

  I feel dirty after what Zachary did to me.

  How he made me feel.

  And while there’s nothing I can do about my filthy mind, the least I can do is wash the feel of him off my body.

  After what happened yesterday with Cass in the shower, though…

  That delicious tightness and tingling had stayed with me for close to an hour, maybe a little more.

  Today? It’s been three hours since Zachary touched me, and I can still feel him stroking me through my underwear.

  None of it makes sense, of course. I should be horrified—disgusted even—by what he did.

  Scaring me like that.

  Forcing himself on me.

  I thought my heart had been beating with panic…but now I’m wondering if it hadn’t been excitement instead.

  Maybe if your life is as boring as mine, anything is exciting.

  It’s seriously messed up to think that my body is capable of confusing fear with lust, or pain with pleasure.

  God, when did I turn into such a sexual deviant?

  I realize I’m stroking my hip bone through my dress and hurriedly snatch away my hand.

  Not going to happen, Trinity.

  I wouldn’t be able to bear the guilt. The shame.

  Don’t let such silly things plague you.

  Gah, I knew it!

  My mind keeps going back to Gabriel or Zachary.

  Gabriel feels the need to answer my questions. About how my father was gay, or the fact that he cheated on my mom?

  The Brotherhood will hurt me in the worst way if I don’t find the data they’re looking for. I may have bought myself some time today with Zachary, but how much?

  There was an announcement about the end of term in prayer today, Jasper told me. The buses are arriving on Thursday morning to take everyone through to Sisters of Mercy.

  Can I hide from both sides of this war until then?